Tag: romance

Chapter 39: Tea and Roses

Hook and yarn in hand, Nieema cackled at her cousin’s bullshit. With family living so close, it was normal for her house to be packed. Kids, grandchildren, cousins, extended family, and friends were always welcome. It’d be a cold day hell before she closed her doors. They were unlocked for anyone she loved or cherished. Food, a bed, or support. Being there for her people, whether strangers or not, was important.
She found room to love everyone who walked into her life. But family? That blood? The familiarity and bond were untouchable.
And for vampire kind, community was scarce but sacred. A tight-knit coven was uncommon. Nieema was thankful for her father and his insistence on sticking together.
Oftentimes, fledglings were left to fend for themselves or sired far too soon. As a result, they were quick to depart from their sire or family. And some of them got lost along the way.
Nieema found the ones she could and offered them a home. Some were excited, others refused, a few poor souls cried in thanks, and a handful wanted nothing to do with covens or her.
But it was this need for community that brought them together.
Gathering at Nieema’s house for food, dance, and fun had become tradition. Every moon cycle folks’ from both the coven and the town showed up ready to partake.
Not every full moon function was met with her hospitality or presence.
Blue moons were for celebration and camaraderie. Hunter’s moon was for reconnecting with their vampire roots and spending time with the coven. Pink moons? Well, Nieema used her for love. Twelve hours in the dungeon. No air or sleep, just pure, undiluted magic.
True love at its finest.
Thinking of her ol’ man, she smiled.
“Girl, don’t piss me off!” Loretta shouted. “Nimmy, we out here having a good time. Don’t be doing allat.”
“What you mean?” Nieema giggled, playing her hook the mind Loretta wanted. “I’m good. Who winning?”
“Me! And you know that already.” Monroe cocked his head and pointed at Loretta. “You can not see me in Spades, heffa. The only way you finna win is if you cheat.”
Nieema laughed as them two started bickering. Loretta wasn’t to be played with as a blacksmith. She was built for battle and knew how to wield any blade. At six-two, three-eighty, she had height and weight on deck.
Though most let her brown eyes, long lashes, and doll-like features fool them. She was soft but mean as a mama badger. Two sides of a coin. Loretta balanced both effortlessly. She was a lover who also loved to tussle.
“If y’all are about to start hollering, take that shit outside!” Mace yelled over the din of old school RnB and cussing.
They were a loud and heavy-handed bunch. Out back, on the patio, Nieema lounged, crocheting yet another scarf for Tre. The man wanted a new one every single full moon. It was a task Nieema committed to with gladness.
Everybody was happy doing something. They erupted in laughter and heated discussions.
A boisterous group mingled around the grill, where Uncle Charlee burned the hot dogs.
The kids played tag yards away, and family was talking about throwing hands at the card table. Monroe, Loretta, Auntie Pearline, who smoked like a vexed dragon, and Jo glared at each other.
Folks committed to whatever made them happy. Nieema included; she was at peace with her hook and wanted to stay as is, but her soul wouldn’t allow such a thing.
“I mean it,” Loretta snapped from the table. “Nimmy, that man is fine wherever he at. Shit!”
“You think they was newlyweds,” Uncle Charlee shouted. “Makes me sick.”
“I think they’re cute,” Jo said.
“Thank you, grandson.” Nieema paused to gulp her liquor. “Mace? Mace, baby, come here.”
Mace left Uncle Charlee’s side and was unimpressed. “Can you get grandma some ice?”
Mace gave her a side eye before looking at the cooler not ten steps from her chair.
Nieema lifted brows and dangled her glass. “I got a pain in my neck. Inna back, I can—“
He snatched it and she gasped. “Boy, you lost your motha fuckin mind. Snatching from me.”
“Sorry, Grandma.”
“Yeaahh, don’t do that. Don’t wanna get on my bad side. Ya know I kill—“
“A frost ogre!”
Every voice near and far hollered in unison.
“We know, GG, you not to be messed with. We knoooooww.”
She twisted around and grimaced at Jo’s uncalled-for two cents.
“Wasn’t nobody talking to you, lil’ Jo.”
“Huh.” Mace handed off the ice.
“Thank you, baby. Say, you know a lot about technology. I told Jasper about your skills. She needs a website; I told her you can make her one, no problem.”
Macion scoffed and giggled. “Grandma, why you tell her that?”
“Cause you got a computer business.”
“No the hell he don’t!” Tre laughed and pointed at Mace with his loaded hot dog. “GG, he has a free site where he makes business cards and shit. Mace only got like two clients.”
“Aye, at least they’re loyal.”
Nieema shook her glass, rattling nugget ice. It had a lil’ sugar and blood in it, too. Chunky, easily crunched, with an incredible mouthfeel. She was in love with an ice maker and might catch a body if someone tried to steal it.
“Nooo.” She squinted, trying to recall the conversation. That’s not how Nieema remembered it at all. “You said you had a computer business where you make computer software.”
“No I did not.” Mace, filled with mirth, and snickered. He scratched his head and said, “Grandma, I helped you with your website one time and showed Papa Buck how to use his social media accounts cause Bernadette, your media manager, was on maternity leave. What I have is digital content business. I make digital fliers, displays, and logos. It’s hardly a business, more like a side hustle.”
“Speak it into existence,” Maggie bellowed from inside the house. “Stop doubting yourself, nephew.”
Mace rolled his eyes. “Anyway, if Jasper needs help setting up a website, I can do that. But I can’t promise much; I’m still learning my damn self.”
“Thank you, baby. I’ll let her know. She needs something. That woman got too much talent. Jasper should be doing it for a living.”
Nieema crunched, losing focus quickly. Distracted by the thumping behind her ribs. The telling rhythm and sudden hot flash made her grin.
“I know you lying,” Nieema mumbled, setting her glass in its holder. “I’ma be back.”
“What I tell yo’ hardheaded ass?!” Loretta snipped.
“Etta, ain’t nobody listening to you.” Nieema flapped a hand and set off toward Gallow. “Gimme thirty!”
“More like five hours.”
“Shut your damn mouth, Jo. And stay outta grown folks’ business.”
The sensations popping off within sent Nieema into a flitting cauldron of bats. She took the quickest route to reach her destination. It was urgent, and she was eager to taste the sweet scent which stained the natural forest musk.
She landed on the balcony, perched on the slippery ledge like a carnivorous gargoyle. Nieema inhaled greedy gulps of what she knew to be her man’s spent and sweet succubus cream. She licked her lips, eyes pinned to the glistening puddle. If this were the time, she’d slurp it up. Every god damn drop. Nieema salivated, thirst growing wicked. She acted upon instinct and slipped into the tree house as a swirling mist. In this form, she blended well with shadows. Though there weren’t many in Buck’s place. He loved natural lighting, lanterns, and crystal lamps. There weren’t too many nooks and crannies, either, but she found them.
Rolling with a subtle breeze, Nieema swirled about upstairs and slipped beneath the door.
She spilled into the room like a dense fog and paused. Awestruck and lusty, she listened.
They orchestrated a symphony of claps and moans. The music caused her to quiver and rise.
The show was obscene, steeped in eroticism. Whatever hesitations Jasper had were good and gone. Buck was a man who fucked as if it was his obligation.
It pleased him to rend one orgasm after the other from Nieema. She’d been on the receiving end for more than a century.
One, two, three was never enough. And tough Jasper was a hell-bred succubus; she was irrevocably cooked.
Nieema’s old man had them legs tied, locked, and in the air. His vicious vines knotted and imprinted upon her skin. The roping dug into her luscious thighs and framed her pussy.
It was the perfect view. Hiked up in his very own suspension system, Jasper was wrung loose. Her cries were weak and threaded with pleasure. A mess of curses and pleas.
Nieema whipped about and circled the knocking bed. The damn box spring never held for longer than a year with Buck’s relentless beating.
He gripped bound thighs and fucked the shit out of Jasper. The woman had covered him in gold and god damn, he was pretty. Strong-willed and sparkling with her surging release. His skin glowed as sweat dripped from stray curls.
Nieema ached to yank on his swaying, thick braid and make him bow at her feet.
“Gimme one more, you can do it.”
“Uggghhhhh—I can—hnng.” She whimpered and panted. “One more! Oh gods, it-just one more! I’m coming agaaain.”
Buck, on the edge, talked her through it and Nieema wallowed above them. She ascended, watching like a true, horny, freaked-out voyeur.
“Thaaat’s it, darlin’,” Buck said, stroking her slow and easy while he came down off what was probably nut number five. “You make me proud, demon. Lemme look atchu.”
Nieema’s form shivered and shuddered at his precious words. Perhaps she was ready for a little collar time.
“Bananas,” Jasper roared. “Fucking, bananas. I’m done.”
Nieema’s sneaky husband laughed as Jasper growled. She wasn’t having it.
“Understood,” Buck nodded and stripped Jasper of every vine. They decorated the bed and floor. The clutter and scraps were about to piss Nieema off a little bit. Somebody had to clean that and them sheets.
But as Buck released Jasper, of course his ass just lay there. Head on Jasper’s fabulous tiddie. He was about to fall asleep, and with how Jasper scratched his scalp, he was about to start snoring.
Jasper sighed and opened her eyes. She tilted her head and smirked.
“You’re a creep.”
“You ain’t say that earlier and—“
“Not you,” Jasper said, staring at Nieema’s misting form. “Your wife.”
“Nimmy?” Buck sniffed the air, eyes still closed until he lifted them. “Ooooweee. You nosy somthin’. Rude dame.”
Jasper giggled and shrugged. “It’s all good. I sensed her a few minutes ago. Didn’t mind the company. Would’ve stopped if I did.”
Jasper’s acceptance and the mess they were lying in were enough to get Nieema down. She dropped into her full, corporeal form with hands on her hips.
“Buck, get your ass out this bed and wash up! You too, Jasper. Shit. Lying there with nut on your tiddies.”
Buck groaned and kicked at crackling vines. “Woman, ain’t nobody tell you to come over bothering me. If I wanna sleep in the wet spot, I will!”
“I know you will, filthy motha fucka. Get on somewhere, old oak.”
He rolled and shot out of bed, grinning like a damn fool. “I like how you wearing that house dress, beloved.”
Nieema gave him a coy shoulder and smiled. “Well, it is your favorite color.”
“That it is, baby.”
He captured her by the waist and snatched her ass into his solid, damn body. Nieema allowed his wildness to spread like a balm. His kiss never ceased to renew her. It was in his arms where she was born anew every night.
Though Buck was greedy and biting, his dick wasn’t up for it. Soft as marshmallows, flaccid, just dangling there. Not even a twitch.
Nieema laughed, breaking their kiss. She tugged on his balls and the man hissed.
“She sucked you dry, boy.”
“I ain’t sucked shit.”
“Not with your mouth,” Buck muttered on his way to the bathroom. “C’mon in here and let me wash your feet.”
Jasper cackled and sighed, sliding a dulled, tired amber to Nieema.
“He’s obsessed with my feet.”
“He into toes real bad.”
Jasper snickered and sat on the edge of the bed. Nieema glanced at the pillowtop folds of her stomach and heavy breasts. She was a fine piece of woman, and Nieema counted down the hours until they touched again.
“It’s funny, cause I’m a foot girl. I make feet content.”
“You do what now?!” Buck slid into their conversation, hair free from its tight weave. Nieema grunted as her husband puffed out his chest. “You sell what?”
“Feet pics. I make pretty good money. But it’s not enough to pay all my bills. I haven’t posted anything in ages.”
“Why not?” Buck asked, staring at her cute, chubby toes. “I wanna see ‘em dressed up. Can I choose the next color for you?”
Nieema rolled her eyes. He never picked the right shades. But Jasper was soft on him, so she agreed. She’d come to regret the decision. Nieema only laughed at her naivety as she picked up the small trash bin.
“Go on, girl. Get yourself together.” Nieema batted them away and got to cleaning.
While they shared water and giggles, Nieema used vampire agility to tidy up. She cleared vines and stripped the bed. After redressing it in fresh linens, she jogged downstairs and prepared the tea.
Buck always needed a hefty hot cup after good sex. She flushed at the thought of him and sighed; wistful and enamored.
It was a wonder how she still swooned over the old man. Moths and bats fluttered in her belly as she threw a lil’ something together. A midnight snack hit harder after multiple orgasms.
A couple slices of homemade lemon pudding cake, strawberries, and sun tea for the lady. It’d tide them over until later.
With nothing pertinent to do, Nieema headed back upstairs and headed for the loft. It was her favorite place to relax and read sometimes.
Buck’s tree house was essentially his space. His domain. And she didn’t stop by often. Not that she wasn’t welcome, but Nieema wanted her husband to have something of his own as she did.
Setting the loaded tray on the coffee table, she eyed the bookshelf stacked with freak nasty offerings. It’d do absolutely nothing for the throbbing ache between her legs, but she’d grab one anyway.
“Let’s see,” she skimmed spines and snatched a title she hadn’t read yet, “The Maid Gets Milked. Dear goddess, yes.”
Buck stayed on top of his selections and kept it fresh. There was no telling what’d be up in here tomorrow. He was unfussy when it came to his reading material. If the man read anything at all, it was some form of erotica.
Taboo, piss, sentient objects, lactation. He didn’t give a damn. Whereas Nieema wasn’t about to read any old thing. Some stuff she never touched. But she wasn’t about to pass up a book with milkmaid in the title. Hell nah.
Feet kicked up and crossed on the couch, Nieema waited. She flipped pages and stuffed her face with tiny, marinated cubes of raw beef. As titillating scenes finally grabbed her fixed attention, Jasper appeared.
Fresh out of the shower and wearing Buck’s favorite sheer robe, she was a treat.
“Hm.” Nieema eyed the demoness. “You didn’t even leave none for me.”
The woman blushed and nabbed snacks. She dared not look Nieema in the eye.
“He was insufferable, Your Majesty.”
Happiness filled her chest and belly. Nieema turned a page and said, “He tore your ass up, chile.”
“No crumbs!” Jasper collapsed onto the opposite sofa and groaned. “Your husband is persuasive and charming. Hard to say no when he’s so sweet.”
Nieema wagged a finger and nodded in agreement. “He can be generous when throes have him by the antlers.”
Jasper chewed and mulled, eyes like a banked fire spoke of her curiosity.
“Antlers?” She considered this and went for another slice of cake. “You know, this house is immaculate and built with love. But the furniture is overlarge. Counters are higher than most. Am I correct to assume there’s more to Buck than what I’ve seen?”
Nieema smiled behind paperback pages and noted her quiet spouse. He arrived with loose, damp hair and a thin wrap tied at the waist. His slutty ass knew how to tempt a weak-willed woman.
It wasn’t often they got to strut around booty butt naked. If not in their room, the dungeon, or his tree house, they had to put some clothes on.
Their main house was never empty enough to have tiddies out.
“You’d be right, darlin’,” Buck said, smelling like sex and vanilla. “But I ain’t looking to scare you off so soon.”
His saccharin scent would drive Nieema to madness. When the moon was high and full, her thirst intensified.
Jasper smirked and noshed on her last corner of coke. “If you’re not wearing clown makeup, I’ll be good.”
“You’re scared of clowns?” Nieema asked, finding this confession adorable as hell.
The demon dusted off her hands and nodded. “Full face makeup in general creeps me out. Not like foundation and shit. But like, costumes and face paint. It terrifies me. Though, the latter is ceremonial in Undervell. It’s always scared me. Since an underling.”
Buck nabbed his tea, added a piece of cake to his saucer, and dropped into his recliner.
With her book and beef, Nieema wanted to be content, but she was starving for his honeyed blood. She wasn’t sure if Buck was even up for it after his marathon with Jasper.
“Imma eat this, then feed you,” Buck said, grinning. Nieema winked and let him eat in peace. “You scared of clowns, that’s fair. I’m scared of snakes.”
Jasper laughed at this and beamed. “You, scared of snakes?”
“Yup. Iown want to see one, hear it, feel it. Hell no! Keep them far away from me.”
“Even garden snakes,” Nieema muttered. “I love them, though. Cute little dirt noodles.”
“Nope. They be in attack mode.”
“They keep bugs from tearing up your plants.”
“Do I care?!” Buck shouted with a mouthful.
“Every time he sees one in the field, he comes running to me.”
“That’s right! You love ‘em so damn much. Shit.”
Jasper giggled but deadpanned. “You are in the forest now, Buck. I’m sure there are snakes aplenty here.”
“As long as I don’t see them, I’m straight. Mm. This tea is good, my love. You can make a nice cup when you want to.”
“What you saying?”
“Huh?”
Buck shook his head and tried not to laugh. “Nothin’. Just you know, sometimes your tea is kinda bitter.”
“Bitter?!” Nieema sat bolt upright and grimaced. “Hol’ on, cause whose tea you calling bitter? I was putting the kettle on before you was even born, my guy.”
“Wait, you’re older than him?” Jasper asked, grabbing her glass.
“By a hundred years or so.”
“Daaaammmmnnn,” Jasper snickered. “You like them seasoned, Buckley.”
“You right.”
“Seasoned?! Why I never…” Nieema gasped and threw her book. Laughter threatened her stern delivery. Feigning vexation, she snarled. “You know what? Both of y’all finna get put on my list.”
Their trio laughed as Nieema rose and sashayed on over to her man. She retrieved his empty dishes and set them on the tray.
“Woman, I wann’t done with that yet.”
“You ate every last bite, hush your mouth.”
Buck pulled her close and into his lap. No matter the years or countless memories they shared, Nieema was giddy when up in his space. She looped an arm around his neck and laid two pecks upon his cheek.
“You need to shave,” Nieema mumbled as the man rested his head on her breast. “And with a straight razor, too.”
“Stop bothering me.”
“It’s scratchy, and them electric ones don’t work as well.”
“I don’t get cut with them, either.”
He kissed her neck, and she tittered. “Teasing me. Mmmhm, my big baby.”
Nieema held him close and squeezed, loving their silent connection. It thrummed within her veins and danced on the heart strings which tether their souls.
She kissed the top of his head and inhaled her sleep aid. While Nieema lavished her king with affection, she noted Jasper’s quiet joy.
“What’s got you smiling like that, dear?”
“Your love.”
Nieema blushed as Buck patted her hip and nuzzled her jawline.
Heat might have grazed her cheeks. “It’s carried us through much.”
“We’re not perfect, Jasper. We worked hard for this here.”
Buck nibbled on Nieema’s cleavage, and she popped him in the head. His dark laughter delighted an old vampire. Though, it wasn’t something he could promise tonight.
He bumped her chin and called for her attention. The world lay in his eyes. They gleamed with life and vitality. Nieema had come to adore his uniqueness. Dignified scars on his brow, upper lip, and temple made him handsome. He was no blemish-free vampir,e and Nieema loved that most.
“It ain’t always tea and roses.” Buck grunted and locked into their eye contact. He pressed upon her soul and heart. “Every marriage has its trials and droughts. We aren’t the exception. But I am still here because Nieema is worth more to me than being right. Her love inspires hope and brings me peace. She is my better half. My queen of all. And the reason I choose to be the best version of myself. I wake every night praying I make her proud.”
Nieema bared her fangs and hissed in his face. “You know good, and damn well I’m proud of you! Every single—ooo, you gon’ make me cry in front of company?! Buckley, look here—boy, I oughta…whew.”
Nieema blinked as tears pricked. Her throat clenche,d and her tongue refused to work. She averted her gaze, turned away from Jasper, and placed her head on his broad shoulder.
“Girl, he’s too much.” Nieema swallowed a lump of hot coals and said, “I swear to the gods. Makes me sick. Can’t stand his ass.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
Buck rubbed her back and patted. His gentle reassurance was more than enough to calm the pyre in her gut. He soothed the emotional influx and tapped her thigh.
“G’head, baby doll, I know you need it.”
“I do,” she pouted. “You smell too damn good. Like vanilla bean ice cream and Jasper’s pussy.”
The succubus coughed and hacked. She dribbled with purpling cheeks. “Shit, Nieema. You’re far too bold.”
“Well,” she popped her shoulder and angled her old man’s head just so. “You got something I can’t resist, dear. And just so you know, we vampires aren’t known for tact or propriety.”
Nieema grabbed a fistful of Buck’s hair, unhinged her jaw, and sank fangs an inch deep into his throat.

Chapter 38: Cozy Comforts

Unbelievable. He was impossible to deal with, and Jasper didn’t know how to handle Buck’s statement.
“What the fuck?” Jasper scoffed. “Why does how I feel matter to you?”
He winced as if wounded and sneered. “You’re a living, breathing person with a bleeding heart like everyone else. That’s why.”
Buck snatched the last vine-fashioned clamp from her nipple, and she stifled a moan. His show of aggression and irritation was glorious. And hell of a lot better than the soft, sweet nothings he’d tried to recite.
“You deserve care and tenderness, Jasper. It don’t matter who you done dealt with or what they have said to you.”
Free to move, Jasper rubbed her wrists and focused on the mess they’d made instead of Buck’s undressing gaze. She wanted to feel bad for squirting all over him, but couldn’t find a single fuck to give. He’d been rough and thorough, giving.
“I can’t—“ Jasper screwed her eyes shut as he removed dangling vines from her waist and thighs. “This can’t be a big thing. I don’t want special treatment. If I start overthinking it, I’ll—“
“Look at me,” Buck demanded, cutting her off mid-rant. His textured palms cradled her cheeks. Positive fuzzy emotions mounted and rebounded. Jasper didn’t want to fold and bend, but her aching heart…
Against common sense and better judgment, Jasper matched his stare. Buck’s sincerity screamed from within. His solid, heated lust had been wrapped in a gauzy warmth.
“This isn’t special treatment, woman.” He was earnest and honest. His delivery might have touched more than her mind. “It’s called respect. You don’t gotta be mine for me to care about you. I’m merely tending to the mess I made, and the gorgeous succubus who done worked me up to it.”
Despite her hesitations and fears, Jasper laughed. She giggled and kissed the man twice.
“I don’t think I played a big part in it.”
He beamed and caressed her padded waist. She had never been self-conscious about her rolls or dimples. And it seemed Buck enjoyed them too. He massaged and kneaded with round two on his mind.
It wasn’t hard to sense or feel him bobbing to attention.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Jasper asserted. She slid to her feet and arched an unimpressed brow. “You get nothing more from me tonight.”
“You know how to play, darlin’.”
“I’m the best.” She patted his cheek and sniffed. “If you’re intent on pampering me, then you better get to it, Mr. Sunside.”
Jasper brushed past Buck and stepped over her glimmering, golden pool.
“I won’t be spending the night, so be about your time.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
True to his word, Buck hustled and scooped her from behind. Jasper hollered in laughter and complained. He had no right to carry her like a newly wedded bride.
“You’ve lost your mind,” Jasper snapped. “I am perfectly capable—“
“You moving too slow for my taste.”
“I am not to be rushed.”
“Shiiid.”
Jasper chuckled again as he set her down in a packed bathroom. She hadn’t breeched the master during the tour and had no idea what awaited. The washroom kept on theme with healthy leaves and thriving botanicals. Though fresh and inviting, it was humid. The moisture-rich air was another reminder of home.
Dredge Bathhouse and its hard workers were above reproach. Fire, head, booze, and free food.
“Go ‘head and pick out something you like.” Buck gestured to a cluttered shelf wedged between a rain forest and a massive claw-footed tub. “Nimmy keeps it stocked. I got a few favorites. Oils, salts, bubbles, or petals, take your pick.”
She padded across a soft rug, unconcerned with the show of nudity. Happy as hell to get a soak in, Jasper perused and plucked while Buck filled the tub.
Rose milk powder, pink salts, oats, and coconut oil. With a handful of goodies, she twirled about.
“Got what I want.”
“Let me see.”
After handing her haul over to Buck, he added each item to the water.
“You got some good stuff.”
“I like milk baths more than bubbles.”
He snickered and glanced her way. “You and me both. Nimmy love her some foam, bombs, and bubbles. I don’t need allat.”
“It’s fussy.”
“You ain’t wrong.”
Waiting, with arms crossed, Jasper admired from afar. Buck wasn’t small or athletic. He’d put on muscle and pounds like a fine three-piece suite.
A man who loved food and lifting. Days, months, and years of hard labor had turned him into a masterpiece. Soft brawn came to mind as his wide shoulders and thick, bone-crushing thighs tensed.
“C’mere.” Her attention lingered on his girth. She hadn’t seen it, but then again, she didn’t need to. He’d stretched her well. “Up here, succubus.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re not.”
“I’m not.” Moths fluttered in her stomach the moment she took his hand. “You’re not a small man.”
“Who you telling?”
They shared a smile and stepped into the bath. Jasper nearly moaned. He hadn’t bitched out on the water temperature. Most would tell her it was too hot, but steam rolled during their descent.
Once fully submerged, Jasper uncoiled her tail and groaned. “This here might be better than sex.”
“Well, that ain’t something you hear a succubus say every day.”
Sitting across from Buck, legs outstretched and straddling him, Jasper closed her eyes. The tub was big enough for two, maybe even three. With the ample amount of space, it was easy to relax.
The build was great for anyone who wanted to rest. And Jasper was one of those people. The bath pillow was soft as hel,l and water scolding. After being well fucked, she was due for a nap and almost slipped into it before Buck clutched her foot.
He held her for a moment, waiting for permission. Buck was going to be such a good boy.
“Well,” Jasper prompted, cracking his lids. “Do what you like.”
He grinned and squeezed just right. With thumbs tucked into the arch, he pressed, and Jasper whimpered.
“Ohmygods, yeees. Get in there!”
“I love your toes,” Buck said, adding pressure to her heel and sole. “They chubby and a soft.”
“Not the first time I’ve heard that.”
“Can I ask you something, Jasper?”
“Depends.” She cleared her throat and let her lids fall. Her head lay on the pillow as Buck worked magic. His hands were a gift. For this, and many other reasons, she considered Nieema lucky.
Jasper briefly wondered what it’d be like to receive such treatments year-round.
“What makes you happy?”
Her head popped up at his query. She eyed Buck for a minute, if only to get her bearings. It was a loaded fucking question no one had ever asked her.
“What do you mean?”
He tilted his head as confusion trickled between them. “What brings you the most joy and happiness? Be it person, place, or thing.”
“Oh, fuck,” Jasper grunted as he stretched her toes, bending them backward. It was so good her pussy almost clenched. “Uhm, uh…I—well, I love to cross-stitch, as you know. But I love nature photography. Annnnd I enjoy video games and—“
“All that is great, and I wanna know every last detail about you. But you not telling me what you eat, feel, or experience.”
She laughed, though nervous. Rubbing her forehead, Jasper fought with her thoughts and sighed.
“I love baths, hot springs. And let me tell you, nothing makes me happier than sweets. I have the nastiest sweet tooth. Also, I feel my best at night. With the moon. There’s nothing like it in Undervell. I fell in love with it immediately.
“And I kid you not, I love exploring and doing new shit. Just going somewhere. It doesn’t even have to be fancy or anything. To be honest, I’ve lost all interest in fine dining, white tablecloths, and galas. I just—I wanna take pictures of animals and stitch. I love that. Doing what I want brings me the most joy. Being who I want to be is of the utmost importance to me. It’s changed something in me. I’m not quite where I wanna be, but I’m close. It’s the reason why I’ll never go back to Undervell. I get homesick and nostalgic, sure. I miss my friends and family, but I’d never be my own person there.”
Jasper paused and splashed her face with water. She scrubbed and settled once again. Jasper set her sights on the high ceiling festooned with ivy.
“I love it here,” she whispered, as Buck swapped the left foot for the right. “Indigo Plains is special. Something about it makes me feel at peace. Like I’ve found a home.”
“And you did, darlin’. This is your home now. You got a large community of folks out there just waiting to get to know you.”
“I know, I know.”
“How about you and me go out tomorrow night? I’ll show you around some of my favorite spots and people.”
“I have to work, sorry.”
“Who writes them checks?”
She cackled and lifted her head. “Do I have enough PTO for it?”
“Mehhhh, maybe after work then.”
They shared more laughter, and Jasper warmed. It was in his genuine smile and interest. The care he took and questions he asked. It went beyond sex. Like he wanted more than his next demonic nut.
No man had ever, ever looked deeper than her skin and bones.
And for the longest time, Jasper thought that was healthy. Turns out, no, it wasn’t. Therapy had been good for her. The lessons were hard, but she learned quite a bit.
Now, she knew better. Though following all the advice given was scary as fuck.
There were layers to what she had with the Sunsides’, but Jasper didn’t want to unpack that right now.
Not before dealing with her past and Trevor Voaremont.
“Enough.” Jasper spouted, retrieving her appendage. “I want your hands somewhere else.”
Their stares clashed as Jasper planted her foot on his dick. He jutted and kicked on contact.
She pressed and ground, testing the man. He gripped porcelain and bore into her.
“You like a pain with pleasure, don’t you?” She didn’t need him to answer. It was her nature to exhume these details. Kinks were private, until they weren’t. Until she was given access, until they let her taste them.
“Yeaaah, I know.” She lifted her foot and popped forward. “But until I see fit that you can handle it, you’ll get none of that from me.”
“Oh, I can show you better than I can tell you, baby.”
Jasper slid into his lap and sat on top of his stiff length. Smashing it under her ass. Water sloshed as she bounced and used her tail to fondle his heavy sac.
“I think I can go for one more.”
He answered her with a kiss, and she relished it. Jasper melted as his arms locked around her.
She still couldn’t stay over, but may the Undergods help her, she was in no hurry to leave.

Chapter 36: To The Gallows

Jasper was quick and proud, putting herself together. She donned a blush-pink short set and iridescent body powder. The combo highlighted her best assets and made certain her glowing, cherry-ember complexion popped. After capping horns with glittering emerald gems, she hurried out the door. Well-worn flip-flops echoed her swift departure.
Late August heat clung to her skin and exposed thighs. She loved the warmth and cozy, tepid breeze. It reminded her of home. Not that she ever wanted to go back, but Jasper missed some things. Like the weather, coal fields, and fully blossomed pyre mounds.
Scorching flames of the Great Undervell delta paled in comparison to the fire in Buck’s eyes. His attention held fast and dared not stray. He was always much to behold and sense. Heavy, rich, and dense. She battled an intense urge to take him on the porch. Buck didn’t make it easy as he assessed every inch of her. From painted toes to capped horns, Buck ate her up.
“Shameless wretch,” Jasper snapped, pushing past the unabashed king.
“What I need shame for? It would mean I feel guilty about something. And I don’t.”
She giggled and cleared the steps in a single bound. Twisting about, Jasper smacked her lips at the old fool’s messy tongue.
“You could at least be a gentleman about it.”
Buck grinned, heading their journey. “I ain’t never been no gentleman. Why beat bushes when we both know what time it is?”
She snickered, big-headed as fuck in the moment. It wasn’t so much that a man wanted her; no, it was that he did. Jasper was used to and familiar with advances, propositions, and the like. They were dime a dozen, but she’d declined every one…until him.
Buck wasn’t normal; nothing about him screamed average or innocent, and yeah, she found him enthralling. Her infatuation had everything to do with his abysmal soul, the dark, mysterious fae underneath the brawn. Beneath his ruggedly beautiful features lay a soul Jasper wanted to dine upon for hours. The inky spirit of him piqued curiosities and made her drip with intense anticipation.
As they aimed for the woods, Jasper stared at his upturned full lips.
“You’d be one of many,” Jasper announced, afraid of where their candor might lead. She needed something, anything to stave off her hunger for this man. “I’ve lain with more than most. I take what I need and leave nothing to question.”
“Including my wife.”
At this, Jasper turned coy. The thought of Nieema set her heart aflutter and aflame. She ignored the smitten succubus within and smiled. Nothing good would come from admitting it, so she stayed quiet on the matter.
“It’s alright,” Buck said, grinning like a shameless wolf intent on devouring their prey whole. “She does that to me too.”
“She is a goddess,” Jasper happily replied.
“You ain’t lying.”
“And you are her devotee.”
“Every damn day of my life.”
“I love this most about you, Buck. The love and respect you show Nieema have worked in your favor.”
Their stroll continued for a spell, following a serpentine footpath toward a darkened wood.
The night was calm and quiet, as Indigo Plains always seemed to be. This peace and place eased more than her stress. The ranch, their home, and the land it resided on brought about freedom.
Jasper was free to breathe without worry and burden. There was something here that spoke to her. Soothed her. She loved the sweet air and sky blanketed with stars. The city didn’t offer this, and Jasper, though broke and strapped with a cursed house, was happier here.
During their walk and light conversation about local fauna, it took more than natural strength to fight her inner demon.
“My brother is terrified of the woods,” said Jasper, breaching the tree line. “And he is misguided.”
From stone to moss and fat canopies. The trail wound through an enchanted thicket. Most woods, even in Undervell, were dark, moldy, and riddled with felled, rotten trees.
“What do you call this place?” Jasper asked, stricken with wonderment.
“Gallow Forest.”
Jasper grimaced and wanted to spit. “The word doesn’t fit what you have here at all. The hell do you mean Gallow?! Nothing is frightening about it.”
Jasper admired what they called Gallow Forest and scoffed at the lunacy. It had to be a joke. Starting along the buoyant moss trail, she focused on its beauty.
Trees, wise giants of old, kitted with lanterns, towered. Their fragrant perfume and warmed honey wax calmed her disquieted essence.
“We don’t have anything like this in Undervell. Trees, or their equivalent, are made of volcanic rock. Ropes of ash and dragon scale shed hang from spindly limbs. This, this is majestic, overwhelming even. Arresting, to say the least.”
“They’re older than me, older than Nieema and her coven. The soil is powerful, too. There ain’t much it can’t cure. Even the common cold. Folks come running during them winter months.”
Russet bark streaked with gold drew her attention first. Jasper marched to the closest tree and examined it by touch. She pinched, poked, and sniffed.
“Is this—“
“Gold? Yeah. Sap infused with gold, that is.”
“What in the name of—how is it possible?”
“You gotta ask the soil. I have no idea.”
Jasper squinted and observed tittering insects that called the tree home. They were strange yet pretty. A fluffy avian sort with four legs and numerous eyes.
“I wanna bring my camera out here. Do you mind? I’d love to get a few pictures.”
“Be my guest,” Buck said, checking on some manner of berry bush. “Photographers from all over have been through here. They got some good shots but ain’t explored much. Too scary, I ‘spose.”
She wanted to hold the cute bug and sought to. Seconds from picking it up, Buck tutted.
“Aht. Don’t even think about it. Them critters got a poison that’ll eat through your skin.”
Jasper flinched and slid backward. She giggled and said, “Good call. I heal fast, but I’m sure the process isn’t fun.”
“I ain’t never tried to find out.” Buck nodded for company, and she skipped right over. “C’mon, don’t wanna keep Torti waiting. I’m sure he’s ready for his stories.”
“Torti?”
Buck gleamed beneath slices of moonlight and dim wicks. Lanterns dangled and bobbed from boughs, lighting their path.
They moved onward, inching deeper into the forest. Surrounded by brush, berry bushes, and shy mammals, Jasper wanted to inspect it all.
Especially the luminescent mushrooms. The glowing clusters varied in sizes and colors. Magical was the only descriptor she’d ever attach to Gallow Forest. Even the deer seemed regal and otherworldly.
She expected them to scatter and flee, not to follow.
“Should I be worried about the rabbits? They’re big as hell, and I swear to the Undervell gods that portly one has been eying me.”
Buck cackled, ruining her serenity. The sound was intolerable, as it only proved to worsen her cravings.
“Woman, that’s just Jimmy.”
Jasper arched a brow but didn’t speak on his wild claim thanks to the multi-level tree house.
Built around an ancient trunk and within its thick canopy was an impressive home. She’d never seen anything like it.
“This you?” Jasper asked.
“Yup.”
“Oooof course it is.” She laughed, taking in the natural opulence. Butter-soft lighting shone through windows on both levels. “You sure don’t do anything half ass.”
“Never. Come on up, I wanna show you how to make the perfect cup.”
“After you, King Sunside.”
“Don’t get cute, na’.”
They shared a smile as Buck jogged up the spiraling staircase. It was a quick climb, despite how high they were.
“That’s quite a drop,” Jasper muttered, hands gripping the smooth railing. “Damn.”
She looked down, knowing damn well how heights sometimes got to her.
“You ‘fraid of heights?”
“Depends.”
“Ladies first,” Buck piped, holding the door open.
“I’m hardly a lady.”
“Who told you that?”
“You’re insufferable.”
“So they say.”
She entered his domain and lost every syllable on her tongue. It was cozy and homey, but without being small.
Buck was a walking void, a darkness she couldn’t name, and yet, he surrounded himself with comfort. Worn linens, lived-in furnishings, and adorable knick-knacks.
The tree house was peaceful and packed with plant life. No corner or counter was left untouched. Potted, hanging, and creeping overhead. Ivy snaked around beams and columns while dried herbs swayed from an unusually high ceiling.
Spices percolated, making her feel at home, happy, and safe.
It smelled like him.
“You are a great wonder.”
“What a thing to say.”
His timbre and proximity turned her around. Jasper gasped, facing the sneaky man. He’d crept in close but kept his hands to himself. She wanted to bite him for having the gall to extend both patience and respect.
He hadn’t tried anything since their kiss and dared not to move, even as their desires twisted and coiled within the slip of space between them.

The luxurious notes of her scent made him want to hoot and holler. Sing her praises from the peaks of Mount Keyholde. This was beyond her smooth, sanguine complexion and goldenrod freckles. It wasn’t just about her sexy horns, cute white hair-do, or the way she put that shit on. Nah.
There was more to this woman than her fine features. Though, he’d be a god damn lie to say Jasper wasn’t a feast for the eyes.
With each and every instinct tackling him, Buck stood before the succubus in a state of yearning. A desire so deep it surpassed sex. He wanted nothing more than to comfort and console her. To dig up them rotted roots and tend to what Trevor had long neglected; poisoned.
Loving the mischief in them sunflower yellow eyes, Buck smiled. “Talkin’ nice ain’t gon’ take you too far, darlin’.”
“What are you?” Jasper whispered, her sharp claws tapping on his belt buckle. “There’s something inside your soul I can’t describe.”
“Wanna find out what it is?”
“Yes.”
A shimmering puff of pollen exploded between them, and Jasper sneezed while Buck laughed.
“Where is my new mattress, mother fucker?!”
“Evenin’, Torti’. How you doing tonight?”
The teeny, tiny phoenix poked Buck in the nose with his trusty thorn blade. The small man was dressed for battle. He wasn’t fucking around.
“What am I looking at?” Jasper shook with mirth, staring at Torti’s hovering form. The wee sprite huffed and rolled his big ol’ pink eyes over to her. “Hello, there.”
Buck’s best friend shrugged. “You must be the demon he won’t shut up about.”
“Is that so?”
Buck glared at Torti and swatted them with a limp wrist. “Hush, now. And don’t come up in here starting with me. I ain’t in the mood. I told you, when I get the time.”
“You always say that!” Torti pouted, stashing his ancient dagger. “Lying bastard. It’ll be months before I get another one. Stop staring at me, lady! Are you a creep? Buck, is she a funky old pervert? Because—“
A second blast of pollen sent Torti flailing through the air. Totti appeared, making Buck smile. She was a sight in a frilly pastel gown fit with flowers and beads. The woman landed on his shoulder and giggled.
“Please excuse my brother, he can be quite the spirited sprite. My name is Toti; it’s nice to finally meet you, Jasper.”
The succubus had the nerve to blush. And whew, did purple look good on her. She smiled, though uncertain.
“Uh, yeah. Hi. Seems like I’ve been the topic of conversation lately.”
“Sometimes,” Totti said. “Buck gets into his work and forgets to eat, though. So I haven’t heard much. Or nearly enough.”
“Are y’all, like, fairies?”
“Ew! Fuck no,” Torti shouted as the TV blared to life. “It’s a common misconception, I assure you. Sprites and fairies aren’t the same thing.”
Torti had long ago learned how to turn the damned thing on. He stepped on buttons to change channels and choose which service to use. He was a pain in the ass about his tube time.
“He’s right,” Buck said, turning into his kitchen and workstation. “Fairies vary in sizes, species, and creeds. From benevolent to wicked.”
Buck grabbed a few items from the cupboard and fridge. After locating his favorite sun tea, he poured a cup for them both.
“They have a hierarchy and classes,” Buck continued. On the turn around, he noted Jasper, perusing one of many shelves. “You can find fairies on every continent, in every climate, and even leagues below the sea. They reside in cave systems, on mountain ranges, and even in the sky.”
He trekked across his home apothecary and offered Jasper the tea. She accepted it and nodded her thanks.
Buck leaned against a column and swigged the cooling summer blend as Totti took her leave. She flitted about and landed on the tippy top shelf, where a row of tiny birdhouses awaited her arrival.
“Though sprites are diverse in culture and species,” he went on to say, “They are always small, and you can only find them in the forest. Not a wood, but a forest. Namely where there’s a strong magical presence. Also, they’re not to be confused with pixies.”
“Sluts!” Torti barked from the couch. “All they do is hump each other and make babies. Bleh!”
Jasper lifted her cup and said, “I like him.”
“He’s a brat,” Totti amended from her perch. “Never content or happy unless there’s a cock—“
“Don’t be a nettle wod, Totti. My god.”
Jasper pointed at the sprite’s kin. “She’s a delight as well. I take it y’all are friends with His Grace?”
“Since he was sapling,” Totti admitted. “Found this babe of a monster waddling in the forest buck naked. Frolicking without a jacket or care in the world. Talking to himself and singing.”
Toti recalled them dusty old days, and he wanted to interrupt, but couldn’t find the nerve.
Her warm smile made Buck busy himself with tea matters.
“He was the first giant child I had ever encountered.” Totti laughed and sat in her tiny rocking chair, twiddling with a mini stuffy Nieema had made for her. “Not many would go galloping through our forest. Back then, word spread about Gallow. Regaled, honorable knights and kings avoided it. Opting to go around. But this wee one, he was brave and adorable. I was but a child myself, so we got along quickly. Our brood didn’t much care for his sort, being fae and all. But me and Torti have never been the sort to listen to our mothers.”
Torti laughed, and Jasper glanced at the sprite man. “So you’re childhood friends?”
“Unfortunately,” Torti grumbled.
“You old bitch,” Buck snapped. “You can get the hell out.”
“Don’t worry me while my stories are on Buckley; I’ll bring you hive dick.”
Jasper dribbled tea and giggled as Buck tried his damnedest not to. Totti went on about their fleeting, adolescent years and Buck nabbed his apron.
He continued to sort and pack the seasonal blends. About two hundred more and he’d be done. To get in the flow of things, he cracked kitchen windows and reveled in the gust of fresh forest air. It swirled in a rush and tussled with the wind chimes.
The soothing, hollowed oak and crystal melody eased his rowdy soul. It was Jasper who riled him and called for more than a decent conversation. But this was her show, her game, and her life.
Buck wanted Jasper in his dungeon, that much was certain, but he wanted her consent first.
He needed Jasper loose and ready to dominate if need be. She was the one for it; most succubi were. And after paying witness to how she handled Nieema, Buck was sure. There wasn’t anything her plush, pliant body couldn’t handle.
Buck caught himself gawking at the curve of her ass, wishing to see her tail. The imprint was enough. He grunted at the obscenity, packing sachets without proper attention. She’d tucked it, just there, under the cuff of her generous behind.
“You’re wasting it, old buck,” Torti whispered in his ear. “You know, when I want to fuck, I ask for it.”
“Would you shut your mouth? Always talkin’ crazy.”
“Well, you’ve never brought anyone up here except for Nimmy. This gotta be serious.”
“Shush,” Buck demanded, hoping Jasper hadn’t heard the sprite.
Totti started the grand tour, but they hadn’t made it on upstairs yet. She followed his best friend, who bragged about how Buck crafted their birdhouses and how Nimmy made their clothes.
Jasper had stolen his will to breathe with her soft-hearted gaze. They shared a smile and a brief, quiet moment. Sadness was still trapped in there, but she beamed nonetheless. As if shy, Jasper turned away and took the stairs two at a time.
“May the soil save me, I’m hooked, Torti. She got me bad.”
“Yeah, well, you should do something about it.” Torti chose to sit on top of Buck’s head. It was his favorite spot aside from his antlers. Tiny, bare feet dangled and tapped his forehead. “You smell like you’re about to go into a rut, man.”
“Shit, I might. The woman is so close to triggering me. It’s gon’ be me and the wife hole up for five business days. I ain’t got time for that right now!”
“If you don’t handle this, nature will.”
“Who you tellin’?” Buck shrugged and laughed. He poured loose leaf and cinched pouches. “There ain’t a damn thing Nimmy can’t solve. That one’ll calm the beast howling for trouble. She gon’ get me right every single time.” Buck distracted himself and fought like hell not to follow Jasper. After regrounding with a second cup of sun tea, he threw on some music and got to work.

Neon Red: Chapter 16

Interviews were tedious work; Tracy had a time researching bothersome, intrusive questions. His only concern was whether this male had the means and skill to fight. Perhaps some sort of marksmanship. He didn’t care to know who the person was or where they came from. Nevertheless, he pried and weathered on with asinine queries. Going down the list, he tapped on another.
“And what makes you qualified for this position?” Tracy asked.
The male was of grand stature with a decent amount of weight on him. He was brawny rather than muscular, with a wide build that could block and slam people into things.
“Uh, I was sired three years ago by my ex-girlfriend. Before that, I was a boxer in the human world. I’ll be forty-seven forever, but I’m in great shape.”
Tracy held back a gag. “Splendid, I can use someone like you. I find your history to be a plus, Russell. Before we wrap up, do you understand the dangers of this job?”
He nodded. “I do, Mr. Bissette.”
“Tracy, please, and that’s wonderful. I assure you, it’s slow around here. But if I need transport or some other services, you’ll be called in. You’ll work a minimum of four days a week.” He paused to wet his whistle with the finest espresso in Florida. “I don’t need you for everything. Most times I use my main guard, but even then, he only works four to five nights a week.”
“I’m not sure if this is what I’m looking for. I’m taking care of my mom and-”
“The pay is thirty-five an hour, and there is room for a hefty bonus at the end of the year.”
“Holy hell, that’s a lot of doe.”
“Yes, it is.” Tracy nodded. “And typically, you will get a full eight hours doing various things. Elliot is in charge of tasks. I am sure he’ll find you work.”
Russell beamed, and Tracy felt accomplished. This was the second person he interviewed, and the first failed. This male, however, even with his sickening human past, was personable and eager.
“I’m ready whenever you need me, Mr.- er, Tracy.”
“Good man. I want to hire you now, but unfortunately, you still need to pass one more interview. In truth, Elliot will be your superior. I’m not one to handle trivial things of this nature.”
Tracy shoved his chair back and rose. He was over the dreary process. Russell took heed and followed him to the front door.
“I will wait for Elliot’s decision, but I’m sure he’ll agree. You are an excellent fit. Until then, you’re free to go. Don’t stray too far from your phone.”
Russell smiled once again and extended a steady palm. “I’ll be waiting for his call.”
“You do that.”
Tracy opened the oak as Jaxon arrived. “Oh, look at our timing. How are you tonight, Jaxon?”
“Very well, thank you.”
“Glad to hear it.”
When he entered, Russell made an exit. “Stay safe, son.”
“You too, Tracy.”
Upon his departure, Tracy shut the door and met Jaxon in the kitchen. “That, sir, is top-shelf espresso. Jaya just made it.”
“She is a master at work. Her coffee is divine.”
Tracy agreed with a tight grin. “How is everything coming along? I wasn’t aware you’d take last night off.”
He sighed. “I’m done, actually.”
Tracy was delighted to hear the news as he poured himself a small cup. “Damn, I didn’t think you’d be done so fast. When can I expect a bill?”
“Tonight,” Jaxon muttered, stirring the blond bean batch. “But I need to speak with you about something first.”
The sentence slipped from his mouth like a threat. Tracy wedged a bit of distance between them.
“What is this about?”
“Your finances, of course.”
Jaxon faced Tracy, sipped the hot beverage, and pinned a glinting stare on him.
“Won’t you have a seat?” Gesturing to the breakfast nook, Tracy slid into the same chair he’d sat in mere moments ago. Jaxon appeared across from him with a cup and saucer. He was dressed to the nines in formal attire. A red three-piece suit and tidy hair pulled back, away from his face.
He seemed young, personable, friendly even. But in his gaze, Tracy noticed something else entirely. This dandy accountant wasn’t who he put into the world. Tracy had known many men like Jaxon.
Righting the crooked mat and off-center charger, Tracy nodded. “What is it you seek, Jaxon?”
“I think you should be asking what I, can do for you.”
Cutting eyes upwards, Tracy cocked a brow. “I’m not following.”
“As you already know, I’ve found some discrepancies. Rather substantial ones. You’ve got a lucrative business that makes too much money, Tracy.” Jaxon tipped his silver chalice and shrugged. “My job is to find these things. Review financial dealings and provide advice. And mine for you is, either stop what you are doing, or hire me to cook your books.”
This wasn’t threatening at all. He was offering a way out of a major fuck up Tracy didn’t even know existed. God damn it, he should have hired someone to do this years ago, like Jaya suggested.
“Okay, sure. You don’t have to twist my arm. How much do you want?”
“I don’t want money.”
Confounded, Tracy canted his head. “I am missing the mark again, I fear.”
“I want resources, I want transport, and I want more space.”
Now his demeanor made sense; the true beast underneath making his debut.
“My god, which part of the business are you?”
“Pharmaceuticals.”
“You’re a fucking drug dealer?”
Jaxon relaxed, crossed his legs, and snapped crisp, white cuffs. “If you wish to be formal, then all right. Yes, I’m a drug dealer.”
To think he came referred. “But you’re an accountant.”
“Yes.” Jaxon nodded and gulped down the rest of his coffee. “I am, but accounting as a hobby. It’s something I like to do. I like numbers, have a knack for organization, and adore meaningless tasks. The stuffy job humbles me at times.”
Tracy ran a hand over his waves and looked out the window. “Florida…” Rain was year-round, and as it came down with promises of a flash flood somewhere, Tracy didn’t know what to make of his confession.
“I don’t have resources.”
“Don’t lie to me, I read everything, Tracy. Your construction business is over 20,000 square feet. You’ve got that house in Doral. Not to mention, if I open a contract with you, I can build whatever I want without it looking too shady. As it stands now, I own a deli, a wing joint, and a god damn ice cream shop.”
Jaxon stood and marched back to the coffee. Tracy got the gist, but wasn’t sure about any of it.
After topping off his tiny cup, Jaxon added an awful lot of sugar. “I have my consulting business and two residential properties. I’ve only been here for eight years. I can not risk another buy without an audit. And I can’t afford that.”
“Just hire someone else.”
“I don’t trust anyone enough.”
“Why trust me?”
“You have shit to lose, Tracy.” As Jaxon pivoted, he shrugged. “And a daughter so deep in, she’d get ten years for every grand earned.”
Panic caused him to wince. “How did you come by this information?”
“I told you, it’s my job. Now, the way I see it, you’ve got something I need, and I have the means to make your financial hiccups go away. Plus, I have ships.”
“Ships for what?”
“Your raw meat business, I overheard you in your office. Listen, I got ties overseas and people who need a man on this side. If you help me, two for the price of one. You get more bodies and clean books. But in return, I want your basements and housing developments. I need more places to stash my inventory. It’s getting hot with my shit, and I need to move. Yesterday.”
Tracy ruminated. This was huge. Selling drugs and running humans was a biiiiiig operation he never signed up for. But with Matthias on board now, maybe another person on his team wouldn’t hurt. Someone he could trust. Matthias was not that person.
“So what?” Tracy looked up at him and frowned. “You wanna be partners?”
Jaxon stared into his cup and grimaced. “Yeah, I suppose so. I have more than enough room at my Brickell office. There’s even a second executive suite.”
“I’m not okay with being a middleman. I’ve done this on my own for a while now. I hire people to find me bodies, and I sell them. What are they willing to pay me? I want no less than ten grand on delivery for my services, and twenty percent of the sale.”
Jaxon hissed. “I don’t know if you’ll get that. But I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’ll agree to a partnership only after the paperwork is handled. I will be the one to draw up a contract, and we will both sign it.”
Jaxon acknowledged with the tip of his cup and said, “Looking forward to it.”
“There will be a fee, Jaxon.”
“I expected as much. We’ll talk numbers a little later.” Returning to his seat, Jaxon’s friendly smile made a comeback. But Tracy would never see him the same again. “For right now, tell me more about your business.”

Max worked hard not to wake, but her internal alarm clock wouldn’t allow that. Wiggling around reminded her of the day’s activities. She scooted across the empty space and threw an arm around Low. Max loved being the big spoon. Kissing his nape made the male groan.
“What time is it?” Low rumbled. The sexy, dusky tone echoed in her chest.
“I have no idea, nighttime.”
He sighed long and heavy, then faced her. His eyes, the color of slate, greeted her. “Wus good witchu?”
“My coochie hurts.” He cackled, and Max tried not to, ‘cause it wasn’t a joke. “Honey chile, I ain’t lying. Y’all wrong, for real. I think I need a walker.”
“Shit, say that then. You know I love a good stroke.”
Max smacked him on the forehead. “Yo breaff stank, hoe. Get out my face. All that dick sucking you did.”
“You’re one to talk, sluttin’ out all hours of the day. You love my fonkie breath anyway, shut up,”
“I do not.” She refuted, but his smile and proximity kneaded Max into mush. Low moved in and kissed her once, twice, a third time.
“Yes, you do,” he whispered, getting fresh under the sheets.
“Hol’ up, I ain’t got nothing for you.”
Letting Low have his way, he pushed Max onto her back. And she was prime for it. Thighs lax and body willing, her pussy flexed as their lips touched.
Gentle and slow, he entered her once again. It was nothing like the rough and tumble during those wee, early morning hours.
There was no place more comforting or familiar.
With him between and slipping inside, her body accepted the rising pressure and pleasure. Max knew every dip and curve. Low’s frame weighed heavily, offering her shelter and intimacy. Languid but steady, he dug her out, taking it easy after using her up hours prior.
Low played it safe while making the bed bounce. When he pulled away from her kiss, she locked arms around his waist.
“Oh baby—Lowwww. Yes…” Her breathy plea urged him onward. “I feel you, bab—oh shiiiit. I fee—make me—uggggh.”
The way he fit with his body pressed against hers left no room for oxygen. Max adored this and what he gave. With legs around his waist, she moaned his government title and dared not to cry as her breath hitched.
Toes curled, spine locked, and eyes rolled. She snapped.
Warm, lazy waves of ecstasy weaved its way through her. An orgasm woke Max proper as Low came down on her mouth once more. Soft and sweet, he grunted, carrying her through his own release.
Low collapsed, and Max took the male’s pounds. Hugging him tight, she closed her eyes as reality crept into their space.
Why did this have to hurt?
Feelings weren’t involved; allowed. She couldn’t even lie to herself anymore. The silence after their sensual descent had long begged for words neither dared to speak. Both denied its existence. Too scared, too broken, and scarred from past traumas.
Feeling him withdraw, Max shivered and laughed.
“I’m done, shorty.” He snickered and flopped onto his back. “I ain’t got nohtin’ left. I’m tapped out.”
Just as he said that, a hand found her tiddie.
She slapped it away. “That’s enough, Low! God damn. You’re finished, ‘member?”
“I know, it’s just your tiddies hanging out. I gotta touch ‘em at least one time.”
She laughed again and shook her head. “I gotta let you know one thing. Baby, that big bitch blew your back out.”
Low smacked his teeth and shot up out of bed. “Don—why you gotta bring it up?” He whined and dashed down the hall. Max followed him into the bathroom and couldn’t help but poke.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I get my shit broke all the time.”
He reached into the stall and turned on the water. “I do the back-breaking, okay?”
“I kowwww, I know. But you screamed his n—”
“Shut the hell up, Maxine Bernice, ‘fore I tear off into your ass. I’m not even gonna be able to look him in the eye.”
Max pushed him into the stall and stepped in. “But you fucked him up as well. His legs were shaking, remember that?”
“I do, yeah. You’re right. I held it down and wasn’t playing no kinda games. But you did, too, babe. I love how you held his balls. That was a good technique, shorty. I’m saying. You broke him doooown. But you know what? He’s mean as hell in them sheets. I figured that, but damn.”
They grabbed the soap and rags, lathering in a hurry.
“I didn’t think white boys were carrying weight.” Max shook her head and scrubbed. “I was bamboozled, lied to, and tricked. I watch porn, but I never thought, like, it was real life.”
Low stood in front of the spray and giggled. “That’s a misconception. I‘ve been with enough white men to know. Not every Black man is well hung, and not every white man is small.”
. “Don’t I know it.” She scoffed. “But look here, I have had some small ones that still gave me an orgasm through penetration. Them the ones to watch out for, ‘cause they know what they’re doing.”
Low smiled. “You not wrong, baby. But uhm, you think he wanna do this again?”
“No, no, I doubt it.”
“We’ve never had a threesome with the same person twice, Maxi. It’s against the rules.”
Max circled around and was pelted by lukewarm droplets. “Damn, Low. You don’t have it hot enough.”
“Shorty! Why you always gotta burn my skin?”
“It don’t even be hot like that.”
“It do too.” He frowned as she turned the heat up a little more.
“How can you get clean with cold water?”
“It’s not—”
“It is! Now get my back.”
Low grumbled and snatched the cloth out of her hand. “Stop yelling, with your big ass forehead.”
“So, you like it.”
He giggled again and washed her back because her lover was sweet like that.
“I gotta go to work,” Max whined. “I’m supposed to open the shop.”
“You probably late.”
She nodded, rinsed, and stepped out of the stall. “I surely am.”
Running for the hanging terry, she heard the door and froze. What to do, what to do. In a state of panic, Max twirled and jumped back in the shower.
“What in the—”
“He’s back,” she whispered.
Low’s dumb ass ducked and crouched. “Oh shit, go out there, Maxi.”
“You go. You’re the man, handle this shit.”
They quieted at the sound of approaching loafers. Low hunched, like that was gonna do something.
“Are y’all hungry?” Jaxon asked.
Max smelled his fine ass through the door. She bit her tongue to keep from cussing.
Low elbowed her, so she shoved him. He slipped and dropped to his ass.
“Uh, nah, nah.” He shrugged. “We good, for now.”
“You sure? I ordered out from GreenStreet cafe. I got eggs, country potatoes, and what else…”
Max slid to the tile, threw up her hands, and mouthed a true statement.
I’m so hungryyyy.
Low shook his head.
“I got waffles, French toast, and Cinnamon pancakes; those are my favorites.”
Her stomach hollered,d and Low snickered. She made a pinching symbol then moved onto praying hands.
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Uh, a little something. But I uh, we, got shit to do so, a lil’ sumn’.”
She nodded as Low stood and grimaced. They stilled, waiting for a response.
“No problem. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“Yup.” Low shrugged again, nd nobody spoke until the door closed.
“What the fuck we gonna do now, Max? Hm? You want me to sit up here and have breakfast with that man? Damn, bruh.” Low stomped out of the stall and snapped a towel. “After last night, hell nah. Plus, we never stay afterwards, Max. That’s our rule. Even more, he brought me outta character. I don’t like that. My spirit can’t handle it. I wanna fight him. To assert my dominance.”
Max dried and stared at Low. “Baby, there ain’t nothing you can do. He’s—”
“Don’t say it. Please don’t. Because I know.” He snapped the soft cotton for a second time and wrapped it around his hips. She just held her’s closed, ‘cause they weren’t made for fluffy people.
When they marched into the bedroom, Low yelped and smacked the wall. “You a nosy muh’fucka!”
Max was aghast as Red leaned against the wall. Looking reeeal pleased with himself.
“And you’re a liar,” she spouted. “That was an invasion of privacy, asshole!”
She stormed for her clothes, gathered articles, and turned her nose up all the way back into the bathroom. Max slammed the door and whined. He looked great and smelled—No, no. Her life was complicated enough. Red was an animal, a ferocious beast who ate pussy and fucked like sex provided the very oxygen in his lungs. There was no room in her life for something or someone like him. And the way shit was going, she wouldn’t even have space left for her own thoughts.

It’s two days late, and I am sorry for that, y’all. Summer is a sad time for me. Nothing drastic happened; I just don’t like it. Lol. Most come alive during the summer months, I DO NOT. I am my least vibrant self. I litterly call it sad girl summer because I am in such low spirits. I can’t wait for fall and winter. UGGGH. Anyway, here is chapter 16! Where we get to witness the aftermath, the night after, the POST NUT CLARITY hits hard here. And you know what? I loved how honest they were about the whole ordeal. Max and Low aren’t afraid to talk about the awkward things, and I love that most about them. Their communication could use some work, but I think their transparency played a major part in the relationship. Now, let’s hope they continue this trend moving forward. Until next time, loves, thank you, and have a wonderful week. Byyyyeee.

Chapter 31: Fangs and Hunger Pangs

Nieema wanted whatever the succubus wanted to give. And yes, she wanted that god damn tail. She salivated and flexed below the waist. Her pussy seeking company, someone to strangle and hold. Her tapered tail was dangerous for some and even had poisonous barbs, but now it flicked with sensual promise. It was a fat, prehensile demon with telling knots and bumps Jasper had manifested for this special occasion.
“Yes,” Nieema rasped.
She tracked its slow sweeping motion and nodded. “Yeah, I want you to put in and don’t stop.”
“Look at you, so greedy for it.”
Nieema hissed and grasped Jasper’s face, plunging into another kiss. She rocked against her pliant, buoyant form and moaned, tasting every note. Buck, Jasper, and even her own water. It spurred her into movement. Nieema rolled, more than ready to bounce and ride.
Jasper clung to her, claws catching on her ass. The tiny pricks of pain added to a new, yet familiar brand of euphoria.
Desperate, she severed their kiss and clutched Jasper’s horns. The woman was flushed. Purpled cheeks and gold dust painted her red complexion. It was beautiful, gorgeous, and quite the portrait Nieema committed to memory but hoped to see for a while longer.
“Talking won’t get you anywhere nice, demon. You can either fuck me this instant or see yourself out.”
Wolfish and sharp-edged, her smile spoke volumes. It was clear she wasn’t amused. From a striking molten ocher to hot iron, her eyes flared.
“You got too much bass in your voice, Your Majesty.”
“And you, are working my last nerve, woman! I need you to fu-fuck!”
Speared and impaled. Nieema wailed, grasping Jasper’s smooth horns. She groaned as heat radiated and seeped; spread.

Heat tackled Nieema as Jasper’s tail twisted and coiled. “Ooooo shhhhhhit.” Nieema gasped; heat and lust encapsulated them. Sweet flames of pleasure licked at her slick skin and teased.
Jasper pushed and stretched with abandon. Every knot and inch waged war against her G-spot. Nieema tossed her head back and hissed.
“Ohmyfates. You so good.” Hot, scorching lips fell upon her shoulder and neck. “Damn, girl.”
The succubus growled and purred. “I knew that pussy was good.”
Nieema bucked with her quickening motion. She keened, enjoying the slip and melody. Their bodies connected, and Nieema consumed her whole. She took her thickness and rolled on it.
With each deep dive, she whimpered. As focus waned and eyes escaped to the back of her head, the world vanished.
Magic and succubi wiles traced every curve of her body. It twined with her senses and laved over her.
As if she’d been taken by five, Nieema registered hands, lips, and fingers. In her ass, on the clit, and pinching nipples. Claws raked her back as Jasper claimed her mouth.
Her tongue slick and hot, thickened. She was transported to another plane of fiery desire. Nieema sucked on her and rode it out.
The demoness lacked decorum and shit. She was unkind inside. Jasper hemmed Nieema up quick. Using her tail for the worst, she arrived with swift punches. Her thrusts were lethal and strong, causing Nieema to lose all wits.
She held onto the woman’s horns and took it on the chin. Jasper beat her down and delved into her pussy. She made it talk back and bite. Desperate, Nieema growled and chased her withdrawal.
Jasper slapped her ass and made Nieema suck her down. She choked on it until the woman let her breathe.
“Yesss!” Nieema roared and panted, bouncing on it like she’d never been fucked a night in her life. “Shit, Jasper. God damn youuuuu…”
She tasted her arousal and mewled as Jasper clenched her throat. The demoness heaved and hugged Nieema close.
“Give me what I want, Nieema,” Jasper said, voice trembling. She worked her tail and demanded action. “You will come for me. Show me them fangs, lover!”
Nieema quaked and made her ass clap. She tussled with her thirst and urge to nut.
“Ohhhhhshiiiit. Oooodamnnnit.”
“Let me see you break, Your Majesty.”
Buck scented smoke spilled from Jasper’s lips and provoked Nieema’s hunger. She inhaled, wanting every dose she offered. Her need to feed overlapped with a painful pang to cum.
“Ffffff—uck! Tear that shit up, girl.” Nieema bit her bottom lip, drawing blood. She clasped them horns and tensed as Jasper’s monstrous magic galvanized within.
Desire, pleasure, and lust clashed with her own. It swelled and overwhelmed.
Nieema ruptured. Two-fold. She’d loosened, convulsing, shivering. Bursts of passion gushed, coating the succubi’s tail and thighs.
Jasper bellowed, calling Nieema by name. She locked arms around her and chuckled. The guttural sound was too much for her delicate sensibilities. Nieema snapped Jasper’s head to the left and begged.
“Let me feed. Pleeeease. Let me have your precious essence before you depart.”
“As you wish,” Jasper whispered.
Hot and cloying, her blood rushed. Fang deep, Nieema took her and gulped. She purred at her throat and warmed as the gorgeous succubus nourished her once again.
More than sated, Nieema licked wounds closed and kissed each mark. “Thank you.”
“The pleasure is all mine.”
Nieema swallowed, loving how her blood and pussy lingered. “I don’t know about that.”
She met Jasper in the eyes and smiled. They were back to their normal shade. Goldenrod amber. Sweet as her natural nectar, she grinned.
“Now I see why he don’t play about you.”
Nieema giggled and sighed, cradling Jasper’s full cheeks. “I can cook too, you know. And, I’m talented, smart, courageous, and fine as hell. There is more to me than my perfect pussy.”
“You are all of that and more, I’m sure.”
Nieema sniffed and dropped hands. “You cute. I’d tell you to keep talking, but I need a shower. How about you join—“
“I can’t.”
Nieema was the one who’d laid everything bare. On the table, clear for her to see. Full transparency. She’d erected boundaries not even an hour ago, and yet, she wanted to obliterate them.
Nieema didn’t want Jasper to leave so soon, but had no choice. They were here for the vibes and shit. Nothing more, nothing less.
“Okay, yeah. Of course.”
Nieema cleared her throat and figured herself foolish. Jasper was far from the first woman they’d met and fucked. And she wouldn’t be the last. Ignoring the weird prick in her chest, Nieema hopped off the woman.
Palm open and outstretched, Nieema called her house robe. After donning satin, she snatched up the woman’s clothes. Jasper had twisted and wrapped her tail.  Tucked high and out of sight around her thigh. Nieema hated it and wanted to know why a succubus born in hell was ashamed of such a beautiful part of herself. It definitely had something to do with Trevor.
Nieema forced a smile and handed the articles over.
“Thanks again, Nieema. You woke this old succubus up.”
“Happy to help.”
Sliding into them tight shorts, Jasper beamed. Fangs and a telling gleam in her eyes was quite a portrait. “I bet.”
“You fed well, I take?” Nieema asked, chin lifted.
“Indeed.” She loomed. The succubus snickered and stole a kiss. One more and she was gone. The door clicked, and Nieema grunted. “She a good one. Different. Her power is beyond any we’ve had. I thought she was gon’ tear me in half. Whew, chile. Look at you, freaky ass.”
Buck slumped in his chair. Butt ass naked, dick on limp and sullied by his own hand. Nieema cackled at the sight. “Bring your ass on, Moss Balls, let’s get cleaned up.”
“I couldn’t help it, you know how I get watching.”
“Hm. I’m sure you had quite the show.”
“Y’all was rocking steady, baby.” He high whistled, following her into the bathroom. “And she is sumn’ else. God damn, I wanna tackle allat jelly.”
“Looks like you gotta be patient.” Nieema turned on the shower and stripped.
“She just don’t know how good it’s gonna be with her teasing me like this.”
“I envy the woman,” she said, twirling on her toes. Nieema hugged her husband and kissed his hair-dusted chest. “In the meantime, you want me to scratch that itch for you?”
“You damn straight. Come here and gimmie that suga’!”
His love put the sun to shame; it brightened him. Nieema would never grow old or tired of his obsession. He was a good man who loved his woman, and Nieema was the luckiest vampire in the world to have snagged the very best Fate had to offer.

Listen, let me tell y’all something, I didn’t want them to fuck yet. I really didn’t. I wanted to make them wait another chapter or two. But Jasper and Nieema wanted this to go their way. I kept fighting it, but in the end, they won! And Nieema, the poor woman, she’s enamored. I can’t blame her. And yo, the idea of Buck being a shameless Cuck is so funny and thrilling. I love him with my whole heart.
He’s gonna crack that succubus wide open. I know it. I have an idea how and when this will happen…But I hope y’all love monster romances.
Anyway, thank you so much for being here. I couldn’t do this without y’all. Have a lovely week and HYDRATE! Byyyeee, Bookie!

Chapter 30: To Bend & Quiver

Nieema’s red, shimmering attention and emotional rise stoked more than an inner flame. Their combined presence stirred environs and Buck’s evergreen lust. As always, the meshing of their souls called to her darker proclivities. She wanted them open, vulnerable, pleading for mercies she’d edge them with.
Jasper propped her ass up on the desk and hummed. She swiped the binder and leafed through it to keep herself busy.
“What I want from everyone is transparency. I want open communication and mutual understanding.”
“Pertaining to?” the vampiress inquired.
“Us.”
Nieema’s laughter was nefarious in nature. Jasper smirked, spotting a fantastical piece. A nude figure astride a unicorn. The latter was adorable with fangs and an even sharper horn. Having a dastardly idea for this one, she plucked it.
“I was afraid I’d scared you off,” Nieema said.
“In all honesty, you did.” Jasper glanced at Mrs. Sunside. She concentrated on the patch but nodded. “I like to gather myself before jumping headfirst. I am apprehensive, not unwilling. After Trevor…” She snarled and cocked a brow. Jasper flipped another page and studied linen squares. The artist had a skilled hand. Talented, they created mosaics.
Buck cleared his throat. “You were saying?”
“Yeah, sorry. Uhm, thanks to him, I’m not in the mood for titles or monogamy. I don’t want long-term. Moreover, I don’t want any part of your high-profile lifestyle.”
Jasper sighed, pushed off, and clapped the binder shut. She tossed it on the desk and decided to peruse. She clocked the tub labeled THREADS and pulled it out. Jasper cracked the lid and whistled. Meticulously organized and colorful. “Can I borrow a few?”
“If you keep talking.”
Jasper snickered and went on, “I know royals and the expectations that come with them. Whosoever steps foot into your chamber is expected to carry themselves to a certain standard. They are watched, followed. I’m done with that shit.”
Jasper nabbed various shades of blue, purple, and red. Pastels were next. She was heavy-handed with them, but Nieema didn’t show interest in her haul.
“I’m gonna tell you just like I told your husband, I don’t want drama, chaos, or anyone in my business.”
Nieema sucked her teeth. “If that’s all you want, I gotchu, but let’s be clear, there will be times when we are unavailable. You understand? We are not beholden to you. We aren’t exclusive,e and with that, for us, come boundaries.”
“Speak them,” Jasper demanded, meeting Nieema’s sanguine stare.
“Buck and I put our marriage first. If, for any reason, we feel the need to slow or cut you off entirely, that is our right. We will communicate such things, but we expect the same from you. We are grown as hell. Ain’t no ghosting shit over here. If you’re not in the mood, say that. If you want a moment with one of us, alone, text in advance. We got a lot going on, as I’m sure you are aware. Expecting time without notice is not how we operate.”
Jasper approved. There were no strings to snap or knots. No room for questions or concerns. Nieema laid everything bare. Without negotiation. How Jasper chose to take it was a personal matter. She respected it.
“And what about you, Buck?” She set her sights on the man and shrugged. “What are your guidelines?”
He pulled from his pipe and lounged. “She told you already.”
“I like it.” Jasper bit her lip and grunted.”Plain and simple. We have an accord, your Highness.”
Nieema peered, claws thrumming on wood.
“Good. I’m glad. But you still didn’t answer the question.”
“Which was?”
“You’re cute,” the Queen said, grinning. “If I kissed you right now, would I taste my husband on your tongue?”
Heat stroked her spine and swelled. Jasper matched Nieema’s faceted fixation as the scent of burning cherry wood perforated.
“You tell me, Your Majesty.”
From sitting to standing in a single breath. Jasper didn’t flinch as the vampire snatched the box and slammed it on the desk. The tiny woman was fierce. “They say vampires are impenetrable. Unbreakable and solid. Shall we put it to test?”
A concerning growl pulled her to attention. Jasper snapped to Buck and his aloof demeanor. “What was that?”
He smoked and stared. Cool fingers gripped her chin. Nieema forced Jasper to lock in. She met the Queen’s ruby glare and purred with satisfaction.
Nieema wasn’t one to be teased or played. The kiss cracked Jasper wide and tugged on soaked coils of desire. Pressure and pleasure mounted as their lips fused. Jasper put her tongue to use. She twisted, tasting every delicious drop of lust this vampire offered. The cloying notes were almost overwhelming. Her want was thick, nearly tangible.
Falling into and under her spell, Jasper grasped Nieema’s heavy ass.
Plump and dimpled, it enticed. The woman yanked on her shorts and nipped. Jasper flinched and cut their contact. The slight sting made her walls ripple and sweat.
Nieema licked her luscious brown lips and asked, “Do you enjoy an audience or would you prefer he participate?”
Jasper clung to Nieema and cast her gaze to Mr. Sunside. Unfazed and collected on the surface, he burned below. His soul was agitated. Tasting his want and vexation, Jasper hissed.
“Until I want your company, you can watch. But you should know that won’t be tonight.”
Nieema laughed, her lips cool and grazing. Jasper kneaded all that ass and enjoyed how the queen lingered at her throat.
“I got nothin’ but time,” Buck rasped.
“Good to know.”
With patience dwindling and hands full, Jasper hoisted Nieema high. The woman scoffed but didn’t protest, wrapping legs around her waist.
Nieema captured Jasper’s lips for a second time and worsened the ache. She roiled an old succubus. Her plush form and lips weren’t enough, and as their kiss tapered, Jasper hissed.
“Where to?”
“Follow him,” Nieema ordered, nuzzling a scorched spot behind the ear.
Buck was up and leading their journey. Jasper tracked the man by way of soul. His darkened desire and irritation was delicious.
“You lucky I’m in the mood to be handled,” Nieema drawled, pecking and nipping.
“The luckiest woman in Indigo Plains.”
“Don’t sweet-talk me, demon. I don’t need that shit.”
“Understood.” Jasper slapped her ass.
Nieema yelped and bit her lobe. She giggled under the playful assault and kissed her flat on the mouth. Nieema moaned and groaned as their troop halted.
Her majesty snipped their affections and dropped to the floor. She pranced across the room and attacked her husband. While they went at it, Jasper gulped, taking her fill and a moment.
She assessed their marital chambers and shivered. Love overflowed. It drenched every surface. Staining the duvet and cal king bed, their shared lust enchanted the space.
Jasper meandered, seeking to understand. To know them. To delve into what made the Sunsides unavoidable. Their room was packed. Floor to ceiling, wall to wall. Greenery and art surrounded them. Ivy scaled and twisted around four posts fitted with iron rings.
The canopy was a nice touch. No headboard, only a mirror.
“What are these for?” Jasper asked, flicking metal. She tugged, testing it. “Who likes to be tied and bound?”
“You stalling?” Nieema asked, approaching. Her predatory gait made Jasper want to bite. Scratch and score. The vampire shoved, forcing her backwards.
“I wouldn’t call it stalling. I was starving. And y’all are good fare.”
Nieema yanked Jasper’s shorts. The small, alluring woman was as impatient as her husband.
“Is she always like this?” Jasper asked.
Buck was tucked off into an inky corner. Lavender-hued smoke and gleaming gold fangs were the only indication he was even there. She smelled him, guzzled his arousal.
A blast of cool heat caused Jasper pain. She gasped and stumbled. Fingers graced her pussy.
“Let me taste it.” Nieema convinced her with the slow dip and arrival. A single finger made Jasper stagger and collapse on the bed bench. Legs spread and claws clenching curls.
Jasper had nothing as Nieema pulled her shorts off. She kicked the fabric free and scooted. Offering herself.
The vampire knelt and kneaded her inner thighs. “Flex for me. Let me see her drip.”
Jasper did as she was told and panted. She licked her dry lips as Nieema patted her mons and belly before teasing.
“I love how y’all look when ready. Reds, pinks, and purples. Ain’t nothing so pretty as succubi pussy. I swear it.” Nieema grunted and glanced two fingers against her pulsing slit. “Look at you. Greedy.”
“Nieema, please.”
“Please, what?”
“Taste me, kiss it.”
Nieema snarled, eyes ablaze. “You don’t gotta beg when I’m this hungry, baby.”
Jasper keened the moment Nieema set lips upon her. The wet heat made lids flutter and head loll. It’d been so god damn long.
She caught a fever and melted beneath her lashing. Nieema was a skilled queen. She was careful, giving, and sweet. Taking her time, she lapped and circled in slow, torturing strokes.
She tugged, sucked. Licked and slurped. The obscene melody worked to tighten the inflamed knot in Jasper’s belly. Nieema was a master at her craft. Too damn good. She drew her pleasure and stalled it. Edging with ease.
Jasper heaved, pulling the woman’s hair. She cussed and rocked against her.
“God damn, Nieema.” Fire encapsulated her as the vampire used her abilities. She was better than any vibrator or toy. It’d been a long while, but Jasper remembered. She never had this. Never had another find the clit and dance with it.
“Shiiiit!” Jasper hollered, seeking oblivion. She tensed, thighs shaking. Heady spices, blood, and lust provoked her demonic instincts. She wanted to take and claim. Plunge and demand. “Oooooo, damn girl. You, you—oh, fuck!”
She arched and allowed Nieema to hike her up. The Queen cradled her ass and feasted as if it were her last supper.
Jasper gritted her teeth and watched the show. Lungs seizing, she rode Nieema’s face and bore into her gaze. She was vicious and powerful. Unforgiving, fangs penetrated at the same moment Jasper erupted. “Ohohohooooahh!”
Because she was a succubus, her pussy creamed and sucked fingers clean. A golden deluge streamed and painted Nieema’s lips.
Lacking finesse and with little civility to spare, Jasper yanked Nieema to her feet. She rid the woman of all layers and latched onto her breast.
Jasper explored the soft planes of her supple form and pulled her in. She locked arms around her waist and lavished Nieema with kisses. She squeezed and groped, loving her lush body.
“Turn around,” Jasper commanded. Nieema arched a regal brow but smirked. She spun about and blessed her. That ass was gorgeous. Sitting, wide, and round.
Jasper had no shame. She bit her left ass cheek.
“Ah!” Nieema rubbed bite marks and peeked over her shoulder. “You sneaky devil.”
“I’ve only just begun. Touch your toes, Majesty.”
She didn’t hesitate to bend over and present herself. “Open up to me. Spread them.”
Nieema widened her stance. Blush pink and sable had never looked so divine. She glistened and wept.
Leaving any and all worries at the door, Jasper unraveled her tail and flicked it.
“Is this what you want?” Jasper snaked her way between Nieema’s legs and tapped her clit with the tip. “You want me to fuck you now?”

Chapter 29: Of Queen and Men

After parking her truck in the garage, Nieema followed Hank through the mudroom. They kicked off their shoes, and she dropped her purse on the bench. Keys in the bowl, she grumped and carried onward.
Using her vampire will, she turned on the lights and opened curtains along the way. Their ranch house was expansive yet homey. She’d dressed every surface in artwork and lined each console with trinkets from around the world.
“I still think you went light on the man,” Hank muttered.
“He’s my cousin, sir.”
“A cousin who was spying on you.”
“Not me, Jasper.”
Nieema grimaced as they entered the kitchen, whereupon Hank wrenched patio doors aside. He shoved and pulled until a warm summer breeze greeted them.
Nieema loved fresh air. It was far better than underground stank and granite. Minerals and stoneware. Humans buried their dead in the dirt, below ground. Nieema thought that shit was hilarious, given how vampire covens preferred subterranean communities.
“Annnd, is that supposed to make it less cruel?”
“You’re right,” Nieema stated. “It doesn’t. But I’m not in the business of decapitation…anymore.” She nabbed the decanter resting on the island and poured. An aromatic blended wine made her fangs throb. “Long ago, during sword and sorcery, I woulda’ had his head. You know that. But times are different. I understand the value of life. Community service should suffice.”
Hank arched a brow, stealing the second glass of Grand Pa’nidere. He grumbled, lips to the rim.
“You just lopped somebody’s head off in cold blood.”
“We ain’t talking about her,” Nieema warned.
“You killed, Veronica!”
“She murdered fourteen vampires, Hank!”
Nieema gulped a glorious concoction and threw on some good ol’ fashion city jazz. The kind from back in the day. The music that lived in the very heart of her people. It roused spirits and pleased their ancestors.
Percussion, snares, and high hats. She closed her eyes for a beat, letting the music have the moment.
“Your soon-to-be bride snaked her way into the coven and gutted our folks.”
Her heart cramped, and blood pricked in her eyes. Dry wells stung with a dangerous vow. “How was I supposed to handle that, Hank? Huh? Because you know good and damn well if somebody hurts my family, they gotta die. And by my hand. I don’t play that shit! I would kill anyone who even thought to cross my family. My people. My kin by blood and name. Don’t act like you don’t know.”
Heat flared in her chest as she slashed a hand. Daring to send everything on the island crashing to the floor. Bulbs flickered, and the decanter rattled under her boiling fury.
“We been through the mud, boy. And now you acting like one person is above us. Don’t you fucking dare. I’m Queen of Ravensguard. It is my vow to protect and defend everyone who calls this place home.”
Hank’s steely gaze and curled lip wasn’t a good sign. “What if it was Buck?”
“Fuck outta my face with that mess!” Nieema swiped her glass and stomped past her knight. “Get the hell on before I go upside your head.”
“You don’t like how them tables turn—“
“Veronica used you.” Nieema gritted her molars and faced her illumine pool. “She poisoned you with a powerful love potion, brotha’. Think. You’d never put anyone above your honor. Not even yourself.”
“Ain’t no way,” Hank uttered, disbelief slicing into his anger. “I would have known, I—we were about to get hitched and all—nah. Hell no.”
Nieema cleared her throat and shrugged, eyes on her right hand. “I gave your blood to Maggie. She exposed all. It’s gonna take a minute for you to wake up. But the moment Veronica died, the spell was broken. You’ll come around any night now.”
“Bulllshit.” Her brother fumed as he traveled elsewhere on the ranch.
“Where are you going without shoes on?”
“To see a witch!”
“I love you.”
She didn’t expect Hank to respond, still in his feelings. This entire situation would haunt that old vampire in the months to come, and she’d be there for him when he cracked.
Doing away with one problem, she swigged her favorite bloodied wine and cracked her neck.
Back in the house, she replaced the glass with a rag and got to cleaning. Jaunty tunes and crooning made her night. She two-stepped, twirled, and dipped to horn-blowing melodies until she grew bored with housework.
Her night had just begun, but that didn’t mean she had to stay corset-ready. It was pretty, bedazzled, and hoisted them tiddies, but she was through. That was the beauty of working from home: one got to wear whatever they wanted. Nieema opted for a long, thin, leopard print gown and a headscarf to match.
At around nine, Nieema was focused on her patches. Head ducked, eyes on the needle. With quick efficiency, she worked on patches. Her sewing machine buzzing and whirring. It was a comfort she sought during those rough hours. When royal duties had her by the fang. After Veronica, she sat up in her office for ten hours straight.
Ms. Corvin was having a baby. Mrs. Briar wanted something for her grandmother, and Francis, the fire chief, needed a quilt for someone in recovery.
Music, hot bloodwine, and the humming motor calmed her nerves. After Veronica, she sat up in her office for ten hours straight. Before her, the last person she’d had to vanquish was Maudrin the Sordid. He was a nasty motha fucka who’d tried to kill her father. As General, it was her job to dispatch the Warlock, and she did just that. Three hundred years ago.
It was her last battle.
Nieema yelped at the feel of hands on her shoulders. “God damn you, Buckley!”
He laughed and kissed her cheek. “You were supposed to sniff me out, bloodsucker.”
She giggled and patted his hand. “You know how it goes when I’m up here working.”
“I do.”
Buck squeezed before release. He swaggered over to the tiny sofa, wedged between shelving units. He groaned and plopped down. Nieema assessed and smirked. He was agitated and darker than usual. Her husband couldn’t hide a damn thing.
She read the gum cracking for what it was.
“What did he want?”
He sighed, tugged free his braid. It lay across his shoulder, thick. The bound ends rested upon suede. It was time for a trim, and he’d hate it.
“Whatcbu think, Nimmy?”
“They can’t have you.”
“He knows.”
“Then, where we go from here?”
Buck flicked his gaze to the window and said, “I gotta take a trip.”
“Don’t you mean we?”
“Nimmy…”
She scoffed and picked thread from the ruined patch. Her perfectionism wouldn’t allow for faults. She cut threads and mused.
“We both know I ain’t welcome. But I’ll be damned to let you go without me. That family is unwell. What if they don’t let you leave? Or worse—oh my god. My blood pressure already taking a hit. Oooo chile. I swear—I’ll turn that forest into a marsh.”
“Calm down, woman. You gettin’ all flustered, and we know don’t nothing good happens when you’re stressed.”
“Baby, if you gotta take a trip, fin,e but I wi—“
“You signed a treaty, Nimmy.”
She tossed the thread cutter and cussed. Cooling the fire in her gut, she returned to the patch and sewing machine. Nieema tapped the paddle and steadied her hands.
“I’m the one who created that damn treaty, Buck. They get to keep them fifteen hundred acres because I say so. My daddy was due to burn the m, and that was his last option.
“If we hadn’t signed that damn thing, we’d be killed by overgrowth and fauna. Listen, if they wanna get to squabbling, then so be it. But I’m going, and we both know that’s the end of it. I gotcha, old man.” Buck affixed his softened, dark stare upon her and relaxed.
“You ain’t gotta tell me what I already know. I just don’t want to cause trouble, Nimmy.”
“That isn’t up to you. It’s on them.”
He sighed while she freed the finished patch and set another on the plate. Nieema situated it just right and muttered.
“Other than Palison, how was your night?”
“Not bad, I mighta broke the ice with her.”
Nieema smiled as he recalled Jasper’s training. She was a quick learner, but had no interest in tools. That was fine cause most folks knew what they were looking for. Nieema completed five patches while they conversed about the mundane. Kids, grand babies, the house, their shop business, and what was on schedule for Friday night in the dungeon.
Curls and coils of smoke soothed her better than any Jazzy track. His dusky lilt was the highlight of her night, making her heart swell with gladness.
She, the demoness, knocked on wood. Syrupy sweet notes preceded her.
Nieema focused on the double stitch and said, “I heard you bought a hammer. What do you plan on doing with that?”
“Building stuff. Whenever we actually get to it. I’d love to start breaking shit.”
Buck’s raspy, smoke-laden chuckle was delightful. “Day or two, and we’ll get started. You so impatient.”
“Not really.”
Nieema popped upward and drank in the woman. She’d changed. Silk and twill for cotton. A matching set. Soft, tight, and pink. Nieema had more to say than hello about how she stepped into the space.
Buck wasn’t a man with shame. He had no qualms with staring. Neither was on the same page, though her lack of tail irked.
Jasper strolled on into the office barefoot, anklets chiming with each step. She went straight for the binder loaded with commissions.
“I finished the orc piece.”
“Lovely,” Nieema intoned, not giving a fuck about the commission. “Where is your tail, ma’am?”
Buck grunted. “I was wonderin’ the same, baby.”
“Keep wondering,” the succubus clipped, turning plastic pages. “I might take about five more; the first made me anxious for more work.”
“How much you want for it?”
“Mmm, fifty—”
“No,” Buck hissed on a harsh exhale.
“Be confident, Jasper.”
“Seven—”
“I seen it,” Buck added, eyes locked on the demoness and her thighs. “Your low balling ‘bouta piss me off, ma’am.”
“Shit, fine. Two hundred.”
“Done,” Nieema chimed, happy to pay the woman. “Nice doing business with you.”
“Money well spent.” Buck wagged his pipe at Jasper and winked. “Worth every cent, Nimmy.”
Shock and awe, Jasper beamed, and Nieema loved the sultry curve of her mouth. Recalling the plush, pillow-soft kiss, she scoffed.
“It’s alright,” Jasper corrected. “Not my best, but decent enough.”
“So, what?” Buck sneered, a swirl of lavender clouds framed his menacing portrait. “You calling me a liar? I know art when I see it.”
“From now on,” Nieema started, foot on the paddle. She tapped and watched her stitch. “I only wanna hear you speak good of your projects. Because if you don’t believe in them, no one will. Oftentimes, a lack of confidence seeps. Your customers will notice. Now, tell me, Jasper, what is my husband hiding? There’s more to your moment, but he’s being coy. Maybe you can shed some light on your time with Buckley Sunside. Did my man behave himself tonight?”

Y’allllll, I don’t know what happened! I pressed publish on this thing LAST NIGHT! But tell me why I just looked to see how y’all are taking to it, to find that it DIDN’T publish. Also, I tried to publish it without a title… Listen, this is what I get for trying to do shit late at night right after I get off of work. *Crying emoji
Anyhoo, I hope you had a great weekend and have an even better week! See you soon, and as always, thank you so much for reading! Byyyyeee.

Neon Red: Chapter 13

AB worked a lot as late and through the weekend. He stayed home last night to regroup and relax. Tonight was fully booked, with plans aplenty. Ones that called for black on black. Givenchy broken logo joggers, a tank, and Balenciaga speeds. Monotones made sure an assortment of gold pieces became the highlight of his outfit. Neck, ears, fingers, nose, and wrist. He was dripping in twenty-four carats and wasn’t shy about it either.
Sex was pretty close to wearing fine fabrics and jewelry. Acquiring luxury brands damn near made AB orgasm in any given boutique. The high he received from shopping was intoxicating, and it didn’t stop at Kiton. No. AB just loved buying shit. He was an impulse shopper. Tupperware or Dior. Brand made no difference. Especially during long trips to Five Below.
He needed an intervention for his addiction. Such wonderful things he found at TJM. God, the priceless doodads. A box made from recycled barn wood? Yes! He desired it. A mirrored owl figurine? Yeah? Big-eyed dogs embroidered onto a pillow? Fuck yesss!
Sucking down a lung full of a Moonrock blend, AB checked mirrors. Was he being ghosted? It was a date or anything, but common courtesy and all. He’d been parked under his place of work for the last thirty minutes. A text came through at around 4 pm, agreeing to an outing. AB hit back with a location.
Seeing as they were still strangers, he offered to meet at Brickell Condominiums. Low texted thirty minutes ago. How long did it take to…well, he had no idea where the man lived.
Holding a creamy cloud, AB clutched his phone, eager to send another text when a rumbling engine and bass-heavy music alerted the senses.
I’m Da Man? Yeah, E-40.
Releasing smoke, he noted a sedan six spots down as Low parked beside him. Before hopping out, AB grabbed his FOB, device, and blunt pouch. With everything in hand, he emerged from the great value ride.
“Well, God damn, Red!”
Low’s size was a surprise, to say the least, being a halfbreed and such. They were neck and neck, almost. Non-threatening, he considered AB and smirked.
“I shoulda wore my Give-inchy too. Tryna look cute, tuh. You can’t see me, though, on your best night.”
Low rounded to the passenger side and listed against the classic big bawdy.
AB couldn’t speak with a blunt between his lips. He observed smoke streaming from his nostrils. AB didn’t want to laugh in the guy’s face, but he was clearly delusional. Poor soul. It don’t get any better than Jaxon Aubrey. Was Low ugly, unseemly, or drab?
No.
Absolutely the fuck not. Even in a t-shirt and sweats. Gray.
Pulling the backwood, AB signaled to the chunky boy downstairs. “You plan on using that?”
Low reeled. “You checking my shit already? I usually like some conversation and—”
“The gun, dumb ass.”
“Aye, watch yourself. And only if I have to.” He shrugged, opening the door. “Can’t be too careful with headhunters running about. Let’s go, Red. That summer moon is shy.”
When Low slid in, AB stepped to the driver’s side and eased behind the wheel. “Whoooa shit.”
The woodgrain was smooth and crisp white interior butter soft to the touch. Smelling like flowers.
“Wait.”
“Boo!”
AB flinched like a pussy when the female sprang up. He gave Max and Low more than enough to amuse them.
“Oooo, the salty, sassy alpha be skittish.”
She was a delightful sight, but her glasses were an irritant. After a quick hit, AB smirked.
“Maybe it’s your face,” he said in good humor, ‘cause she wasn’t ugly either. Far from it, actually. Max had silver screen old Hollywood beauty on lock, but those tattoos launched her into the ethereal. AB loved ink on everyone. As he glanced at a snickering Low, Max hollered from behind.
“Don’t be messing with me, Irish Spring,” she hissed. “I am not in the mood. I’ll shove my taser right up your ass.”
AB stabbed the dash in search of good music and took her ‘threats’ with a grain of salt. She was five-two, maybe three.
“You hella annoying, to be honest.”
“I aim to please, Jaxon,” she chimed.
“You better believe her.” Low paused to light his own wood. “She done tased me a few times.”
While AB messed with Bluetooth shit, she yammered on. Cautionary tales or whatever. Max had a pleasant, silvery voice, so he tolerated her loquaciousness.
“There we go.” AB grinned.
Max screamed in celebration, and Low coughed, spewing smoke. “Muh’fucka! Is this Whitney Houston?!”
“I know that’s right!” She clapped. “Low only plays rap garbage all night. This is real driving music.” Max giggled on all in his ear. “You like Whitney, Big Red?”
“I love Whitney.” AB glanced at Low, putting the Chevy in reverse. “I dare you to speak ill of my late queen.”
With the blunt back in his mouth, he turned up I’m Your Baby Tonight and floated onto the street. The Monte Carlo SS was a magic carpet ride.
“Listen, I ain’t got no issue with Whitney, but damnnnnn.” Low toked, then spoke on release. “You a cold-blooded alpha, bruh. How and why are you cruising around bumpin’ this? And, you white.”
“I’m Irish.”
He cackled, but AB grimaced.
“Where can I…” Low tapped underneath the stereo and revealed an astray. “Thank you. And what does my complexion have to do with anything? All that shit is inconsequential. Music is universal; it’s for anyone who wants to listen. There ain’t no restrictions.”
“That’s true,” Max added as a foul, manufactured blueberry odor assaulted him.
“What is that?”
“My vape.”
AB smacked his lips. “It stinks.”
“I hate it too,” Low muttered.
The city was alive with those coming and going. It was 10:30 pm, and most were on their way home or off to get into some shit. They were the ass end.
“You live in Brickell, with all those other rich folks?”
“No, I work there.”
“Ooooh, right, right. Your accounting office?”
“We call it a counseling office,” AB corrected, but had zero intentions of talking about work. “I have to hand it to you, she rides great. Smooth as silk.”
Low chuckled and puffed for a minute while Max sang along to Mark Morrison. Music was AB’s first love as an adolescent. That’s why he liked everything; hell, Vivaldi might play next. Perhaps Stevie Nicks, Korn, Nat King Cole, Michael Bolton, Etta James, or The Beatles.
His playlist was on shuffle.
“Low built this car.”
“For real?” AB asked, fully invested in Low’s response.
The male’s wry smile spoke before he did. “Not built. I restored her a little. You know, put something fresh on the body, and got up in them guts…” His glittering storm gray eyes swung over right on time. “I fixed what was broken, but I’ma replace the block in about two years.”
AB nodded, ignoring the sexual undertones in his statement. Smashing for Coconut Grove, he hit a few lights, but kept things nice and easy.
“Aye, make a U-turn right quick,” Low suggested.
“What?”
“Just do it.”
Once able, AB doubled back and whipped the bitch.
“The hell going on.”
“What’s wrong?” Max asked.
“I have no idea, but we being followed. Seriously, I’ve watched them tail us for the last ten minutes.”
Retrieving his blunt, AB laughed and made another U-turn.
“What you doing?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Low bolted upright, looked at Max, then pegged him with a hard stare. “I don’t know you, and ain’t nobody finna put my shorty in harm’s way, fuck you mean.”
“They’re with me.”
“The tail?” he blurted.
“Yeah.”
“The hell you have them fa’?”
AB inhaled his Moonrock skittle mix and entered Coconut Grove.
No need to divulge sensitive information this early on. He wasn’t even sure if it’d go past tonight, but who knew at this point, right? His passengers were a desirable hodgepodge of gardenia, Bergamot, and Shea butter. The aroma was erotic and enticing. It’d been years since he had a menage. God willing, he’d have another soon.
Max appeared in his peripherals and stared. “How old are you? Where are we going and why are people following us?”
AB snorted and said, “You ask too many questions and haven’t answered mine.”
“You ain’t asked me nothing.”
“I will.”
“Okay, how old are you, whe—” She lurched forward as they came to an abrupt halt. “You ‘bouta go on my list, Irish cream.”
“I’m seven hundred and twenty-three, and getting older every night.”
Low hacked and leaned forward once again. “You the oldest vampire I’ve ever met. Holy shit. I thought you were like, three-fifty, four hunnit or something.” His eyes traveled from north to south. “I mean you well kept, though, Father Time. You are older than this country and the Declaration of Independence. You’re older than this whole state. The dirt we walk on, you older than—”
“I get it! Oh my god.” AB snagged his blunt, killed the engine, and tossed keys to Low.
“Oh fuck! You almost hit my dick, be coo’, bruh. I know you don’t need yours no more, ain’t no way it still works, but mine is fine.”
Max cackled like a hyena. He found the sound unappealing yet adorable.
“This shit will get old, fast.”
“Awwww.” She patted his shoulder, and he loved the contact but shrank away in irritation. “Poor alpha feeewings hurrt.” She giggled again. “Move, so I can get out.”
“Ask me, nicely,” AB growled.
“No, move.”
“I said, ask me nicely.”
Low jumped out of the car, groaned, and pushed his seat forward. “Let’s go, baby, I ain’t got time.”
“Ha!”
Max cocked a brow as her ‘friend’ offered a helping hand. Ab followed, intent on setting some motha’ fuckin’ boundaries.

Goooood evening, y’all. I hope you’ve had a phenomenal week! I’ve been editing mostly and adding to Patchwork. If you don’t know what that is, it’s my fantasy serial. It’s lighter than this and lower stakes. Anyway, this week we get a glimpse of The Troublesome Trio. I had A time writing their story, and you’ll continue to see why. I know this chapter was short, but you’ve got quite a bit coming in the next two weeks (maybe sooner). A little action, SMUT, and Maxi antics. Once again, I’d like to thank you for still being here. Stay amazing and hydrated, y’all. See you next week, bookies. Byyyye!

Chapter 28: The Swooning Succubus

Bone marrow melted, and the body had transformed into a pyre. She’d never been taken so ruthlessly. Buck was relentless and thorough. Her lips tingled, and pussy wanted to consume him. Every god damn inch. Jasper would damn well let him sleep in it.
His soul and desire worked in tandem to destabilize her. To provoke her. It was glorious, though, new and frightening. Their fleeting moment mimicked the minutes she’d shared with Nieema.
The Queen coated his tongue; they danced well together. Not only had Nieema’s flavor caused a flurry of sensations, but it had also made Jasper crave Buck. The thought of them pelted her soul with smoldering pleasure.
Jasper had almost burst in her slacks from the vision. Did she need a release? Yes. What Buck and Nieema beckoned would be her ruin. Jasper was certain that when this man took her wholly, she’d writhe and wither, sniveling for another.
This was cause for hesitation.
His heady passion was delicious. It satisfied and worsened her pangs. But she’d never been this bad off. Never so exposed. Wanting a man to such a degree was unbecoming for succubi. Her sisters would’ve tried to bury her in soot and drake ash.
“What the hell and highs are doing in my god damn store?!”
Leaning against the counter was an oak of verdant waves, freckles, and a fiery opal stare. He was a ravishing creature, Jasper wanted to know.
She extended a palm quick, fast, and in a hurry. “Jasper. I run this place. What do you need?”
He smelled of honeysuckle and fresh waters. His soul was brighter than the midday sun. He tasted like candy. This was a gorgeous man she’d love to sip on, though his upturned nose was telling.
He didn’t trust anyone and definitely not Jasper. She dropped the hand and clapped once, sliding over to a shelf filled with weird shit she didn’t know how to use.
She left the men to stare at each other. Bad blood and taut ties. They were family, too. Estranged kin, Jasper presumed. He was the palest man she’d ever seen, so perhaps they were cousins.
She would rather not be nosy or eavesdrop, but didn’t have a choice. Noticing unkempt shelves, she decided to tidy up while trying not to listen.
“Im’on ask you again, why—“
“You work here?” The man asked, judgment sharp enough to cut his tongue. “Why would the Queen’s consort waste his time working among commoners?”
Jasper scoffed, minding her business. She situated boxes of screws and nuts. Counted tubs of putty and swiped a finger through a pat of dust.
She took to reading. Fill, scrape, washers, caulk, wrench, drivers. Most of this shit could’ve been written in Rakish.
Bored with it, she ventured around the corner and found a row filled with hammers. Jasper perused, looking for something that fit her personality.
She spotted a pink one and snatched it. “Oooooo.” Noting the price, she cursed. “Hay!” Jasper grabbed two hammers and stalked toward the store’s owner. “You want to explain this to me?”
She showcased the tools, and both men blinked. The interruption had come at a bad time, but this needed sorting.
“What?” Buck gritted.
“This pink one is twelve dollars, and the other is ten. They’re of the same brand and size. Why is the pink one more expensive?”
Buck lifted his chin and nodded. “Funny that. Feel free to change the price. I don’t see the point. Brands be doing funny shit. Our last manager left us high and dry, but they didn’t pay attention to much. Good eye, Jasper. Set the price, and I’ll approve it.”
She hummed and smirked. “Thank you.” Twirling on her heels, Jasper listened for a moment.
“Palison, there ain’t no need for you come on up here. It won’t change my mind.”
“I understand that.” Palison sighed. “Believe me. You’re already a king. Why Her Majesty wants to stay here, in a podunk, middle of nowhere, outhouse of a town I’ll never—“
“Fuck you!” Buck bellowed. “Stupid ass bitch. Don’t run your mouth about my home. I’ll put you through it, Palison. See, you always think you better than everyone else—”
“I don’t think, I know I am.”
“What a diva,” Jasper muttered, taking her leave. Heading to the back, hammer in hand, she whistled but halted at Palison’s response.
“Half brother!” Buck countered. “And I don’t even know you. We met one other time, and it was in Lightbridge for that gala thing.”
“Brother?” Jasper whispered, standing near the EMPLOYEE ONLY door.
“This is true,” Palison said. “But as our kingdom’s courtier, it is my duty to speak with you face to face. We have two choices here, Myrrhnelle.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“It’s your namesake.”
“Nah. Never been. It’s Buck.”
“Very well, Buck…you either ascend or relinquish your crown to Thedius, in person.”
“Why can’t we just do a video call or some shit? Everybody doing it these days. I don’t gotta be there.”
“A video call? You want to cede through a fucking—Soil of Soul be with me. No.”
“Why not?”
“There are formalities, and we, as a people, stick to them.”
“That’s the whole problem.”
“You don’t have a choice in the matter, Buck. It’s one of two things: death. Take your pick.”
Jasper tutted and shook her head. More political nonsense. She’d escaped Undervell to avoid this bullshit.
Good thing this was a Buck problem and not a them problem. She had little hope. Fucking the Sunsides was inevitable. A good time would be had, but it’d go no further.
She’d never again trust anyone to do right or give her heart and soul. It was a death trap that had nearly killed her once.
Jasper’s therapist would’ve been upset, but she was free to love or not. That was the beauty of being her own person. It’s the whole reason why Jasper was here and not under her father’s shiny, gold-plated hoof.

Hey y’all, if you recognize the holidays, I hope you had a good Memorial Day weekend! With another holiday over, I present to you, chapter 28. I should know this, buuuuut, it’s a different chapter in MS mode.
Anyway, Jasper and Buck have come to that moment. The one where the unwilling gives. Where they meet in the middle. One person takes what’s offered while the other wants nothing more. THIS IS MY FAVORITE PARRRRT! Ugh. I love how Buck and Jasper are damn near evenly matched. They see eye to eye, all the while butting heads.
This chapter was short. But the next will be long and SPICY! I can’t wait. Anyhoo, as always, thank you for sparing a moment or two on Patchwork. Your support is priceless. See y’all next week and have a wonderful night. Byyye!

Neon Red: Chapter 11

The following night, Tracy checked his reflection once more and tugged the pocket square. Pressed, extra starch. He swiped a hand over his taper fade and snapped cuffs. For many a night, he considered himself the best. Trudging through mud to get where he was required a strong mind and will. He’d been born into a scholarly family. Doctors and teachers. Of course, an education couldn’t hide one’s skin color. For countless years, he walked this wretched earth and experienced things his child would never understand.
If his father hadn’t stolen those bonds, there was no telling where they’d be right now. Though finding out his own son was dyslexic had been a blow. Tracy’s father thought him a lame, unintelligent, and disposable. At least he left his mother with money and means to provide. In his youth, Tracy was lost, working odd jobs, longing for an intellectual path. To do something worth a damn.
That’s when he met Bernice. She was by far the most gorgeous woman he had laid eyes upon. She was a learned gal from Nigeria. Smart, kind, and patient. She helped Tracy overcome his literacy issues; thus, their love story began.
“Beginning of the end.”
A knock called for his attention. Striding down the hall, connecting the vestibule and his bedroom, he noted Jaya’s presence.
“Are you sure you wanna do this?” she asked.
“I am only trying to do what’s best.”
“You honestly think this is best?”
He couldn’t stand it. Her disappointment and knitted brow. She wasn’t fit for an expression so sour. Jaya was divinity embodied and warmhearted, but had no right to question him.
“I do. It is a beneficial merger.”
Jaya’s laughter wasn’t that of joy. “A merger. What is happening to you, Tracy? You are fucking with her life.”
Averting her judgmental gaze, he marched to the wet bar and did his ultimate best at preparing an old-fashioned.
“She will be grateful.”
“This is not the 19th century. It is unacceptable.”
“To whom? There are plenty around the world who practice such things.”
“Yeah, and it’s wrong.”
Tracy sighed, dropped ice, and faced Jaya. Beauty remained despite her fury. Verily, she raised the girl, so her protective nature was predictable, but she wasn’t Maxine’s mother. He was reminded of that every night.
Swirling his drink, Tracy stared into the chilled, brown pool. “Max is my child, not yours.”
He matched Jaya’s vexation. Her glare glinted behind welling ruby tears. He strongarmed an aching desire to comfort her.
“I know what’s best for my child.”
She scowled and left in a hurry. There was an unmistakable pain in the center of his chest. An agony he’d come to live with. Stuck in a sort of purgatory he himself built from the ground up. Tracy still mourned his beloved and wanted to honor her, even in death.
But this was killing him. This silent, personal storm. The suffering never ceased. His hands trembled, ice rattling in the glass. “Stay the course.”
Tracy growled and launched vintage crystal across his room. It shattered on impact, taking his antique standing mirror with it. Shards dangled at odd angles. With pieces missing, his reflection fractured. The world did this to him. Life and death were both something to fear.
Tracy didn’t wish to die, but wasn’t sure if he wanted to live anymore, either. On a spin, he grabbed his dinner jacket and tweaked the pocket square. On his way to formal living, Tracy plastered on a smile.
“Ah, Matthias.” Tracy extended a palm, and they shook like proper gentlemen. “I do apologize for my tardiness.”
The male released and inclined his head. “It’s okay. Your gracious staff kept us busy with a phenomenal slice of hummingbird cake.”
“Oh yes.” He gestured to a younger male sitting on the couch. “My daughter made it. She knows her way around an oven.”
“Magnificent. We do love a cooking woman.” Matthias Lawry was a grand vampire of some three hundred years. A rich pureblood with an old maroon gaze, money, and connections. He stood tall and confident. His son, Raymond, on the other hand, was nonplussed. Matthias cleared his throat and yanked the boy’s arm. “Get up and shake the man’s hand.”
Raymond grinned, offered a greeting, and committed to it. Tracy had socks tighter than his grip. “Hello, Mr. Bissette.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Tracy added
“You too.”
Like pulling teeth, the boy wanted nothing of it, which was understandable. “Please, have a seat.” When his guests returned to the sofa, Tracy took a load off in an armchair. Crossing his legs, he started in. “So, Matthias, has Raymond been informed?”
“He has, and my boy is ready to meet Maxine whenever she is ready.”
“That’s wonderful. She should be along shortly. I’ve told her to take the night off. Max typically wakes up around ten or so.”
Matthias smiled kindly, while his son sat deflated. His body molded into the cushions as his shoulders drooped. He should be grateful. Because of this, they were all better off. Tracy only knew of one other vampire who sold heathens to the highest bidder, and he stared at them.
Matthias Lawry was an asset, and they’d make more money working together. If there was one thing Tracy loved more than his late wife… it was currency, and their topic of discussion. They spoke of stock markets, what to sell, and when. Who were the best investors and who offered the best rates overseas.
“Dad.”
“Oh, Maxine, I’m glad you’re awake.”
Ohhhh, how fancy. She could have spruced up a bit. Her hair looked as though it’d been windswept, there was shit in her eyes, and for the love of god… a Winnie the Pooh onesie. Maxine was an adult who wore footie pajamas. Perhaps he should have told her beforehand, but Tracy had much on his plate. And with her, this approach was best; she had nothing to contemplate.
His daughter would choose wrong every time.
“Maxine, this is Matthias, and his son, Raymond.”
“Okay.” She shrugged.
“Matthias and I have decided you two might make a lovely pair.”
The girl looked at Raymond, then slowly turned towards Tracy. “Dad, can I talk to you alone, please?”
“Absolutely.”
“Excuse us.”
“No problem.”
Tracy followed Maxine into his clean office and shut the door.
“Dad, I am not ready for a relationship. It’s kind of you and all, but I don’t need you to set me up.”
“It has been five years, Maxine. It’s time you find another husband.”
Her arms crossed and brows gathered. “I don’t want another husband. I don’t ever wanna be married again. I don’t ever, ever want—”
“You can’t hide away forever. What purpose will you serve if you are not someone’s wife?”
She winced as if he’d shot her. “What are you saying?! A female, or woman, is not born with wifely duties strapped to her back. We are more than dolls to look pretty, cook your food, and grow babies.”
“Watch your tone.”
“Or you’ll freeze my accounts, I know.”
Tracy held his tongue and sat in an old chair he’d bought in 1972. Things weren’t made the same anymore. Including women. A girl in Maxine’s position would have been over the moon some eighty years ago. His daughter was from that time, but she’d lost all sense and grabbed this modern age by the balls, as it were. She fit in with them, conforming to this generation and what they called freedom of expression.
“You know what we have at stake, don’t you?” He watched her peruse shelves full of books he forgot to read.
“I can’t forget.”
“You wanted in Maxine, I let you. So, I’ve got another job for you.”
Her multi-colored irises were magical in nature. One Red, the other quicksilver, they were striking and unique. He and his daughter emerged from the womb imperfect, but unprecedented. Tracy loved her eyes because they shaped her into someone special. Alas, the dual pigment haunted him as well.
When Maxine was born, he became filled with a renewed sense of purpose and an immeasurable amount of love. Sadly, in the same moment Maxine opened her eyes, Bernice took her last breath.

Max wouldn’t like whatever he had to say. She dropped into the armchair, waited for her father to speak, and picked lint off her onesie. Helluva night to wear this thing. She loved onsies. They made her feel safe and warm, like a security blanket. She carried a fluffy crochet blanket Jaya had made her for fifteen years. Tracy made her burn it. The day they started making onesies for adults, she got in on that and never looked back.
“Matthias is a runner, like me.” Tracy asserted.
“Nope, not gonna like it.”
“He’s wealthy.”
“So is his son.” Glancing at her dad said yeah, she was right. “What does this have to do with me?”
“You and Raymond are going to marry.”
Max’s stomach hit rock bottom and lurched as she slammed her eyes shut. A vile, slow burn accompanied the rapid beat of her heart. “I have my limits, Dad, I can—”
“You can move on with your life. Be who you once were.”
“I can’t do this.” Pinning a blurry gaze on her father, Max begged him. “Dad, I can’t. I don’t… this isn’t right. How is this fair?”
“Life isn’t fair, Maxine.”
Max linked arms tightly across her seizing chest once more and wanted to puke. “I know you hate me, but I don’t deserve this.”
“I don’t hate you,” he refuted.
“You do, and that’s fine, whatever. I’d hate me too for what I stole from you. But I don’t know how to apologize. You shouldn’t keep holding it over my head, this… this is too much. You are stepping over a line here.”
Tracy Bissette had a stick up his ass. He was high-strung and unflappable. Serious, judgmental of others, and nagging. He was strict and rode Max behind since she learned how to talk. But her father was never cruel, until now.
Max had to know why and how he’d even think to agree.
“After everything I’ve been through…” she whispered, just about ready to curl into a ball.
“No fault of mine,” Tracy spouted. “I warned you about that boy, Maxine. I told you to seek help. I have said many things you chose to ignore.”
He was right, but the past had nothing to do with the present. “How can you sit up here on your high horse and jus—”
“I have no choice,” her father ground out.
“Yes, you do.”
Tracy was ever composed with a highbrow and stiff back. She’d never seen him truly smile or express real emotion, negative or positive. Right now, however, he was undone. Fidgeting, twiddling with the blotter, and drifting off into space.
“Matthias is a runner who will not accept competition. This is more of an insurance policy; if we don’t abide, well… his wife is a US senator, and now, he knows what we do. Things can go from congenial to shit quickly. Do you understand?”
“Oh my god, he blackmailed you.”
“Indeed.”
She saw anger on her father’s face, real anger. Lip twisted into a snarl and fist tight around a personalized letter opener Jaya gifted him with last Christmas.
“I don’t understand.” She shook her head. “What does he have to gain from this?”
“My compliance, Maxine. A joining of our families would mean peace. It’s an old strategy to avoid war, but still relevant. If you don’t do this, that’s it. You will have to leave the country.”
A giant batch of ifs-ands-buts frothed within her brain matter. “I can’t leave… what about you?”
“It’d be prison or death.”
She couldn’t breathe, and the urge to vomit worsened. Leaving wasn’t an option. Jaya, Ndar, I, and Low would be left behind— “I can’t leave.”
Meeting her father’s speckled green eyes, he nodded. “I am aware of your love for Elliot, Max.”
“I’m not—”
“Don’t lie to me. It’s unbecoming. I’ve known for some time. However…” Tracy’s demeanor shifted. Going from fury to an upturned nose and a judgmental tone. He released the letter opener and started typing on his computer.
“I will never approve of it, never. He is a fine male, but unfit for my daughter.”
“That’s not your call. You don’t even know him.”
“He’s a convict with three strikes. He served time at Alcatraz before his transition, Max. Under the watchful eye of the US government. Elliot is a gang affiliate on reserve. You’d be insane to think I’d invite him into our family with open arms.”
She’d been born in the wrong century.
Women were free to choose. Be who they wanted to be. When sexuality evolved into something they needn’t be ashamed of. When they had more to gain in life than a last name. When you existed for yourself. Max watched as women held powerful positions and made men fall to their knees. She watched as one became president of the United States. They still had a long way to go, but women were being freed from societal shackles.
They were free to be.
Except for Max.
If it wasn’t her father’s almost tyrannical hovering, it was someone else’s. She left one prison, barely escaping with her life, only to wind up in another. When the fuck was Max going to be her own person?
The answer was never.
“Maxine, we both know your choice in partners has led to ruin on several occasions. Do yourself a favor by marrying Raymond. He’s a great male with an education.”
“Fine,” Max snapped. What other option did she have? None. It was either this or leave her dad to die. And you know what? She was a punk. ‘Cause no matter what, she loved her father. Not to mention, he’d suffered enough thanks to her.
“When is all this supposed to happen?” she asked, unable to look at the man. Her head hung low, and her spine folded.
“I’m not sure. It’s up to Matthias. But you could spend this time getting to know each other.”
“Alright. Can I go now? I just need a day or two, please.”
“Sure, it’s a lot to handle, I know.”
She shot to her feet and sprinted out of the stuffy office. Her legs were mailable. Where rigid bone had been, there was putty. Max stepped into her room and collapsed onto a mountain of clothes. She heaved as a cold flush washed over her. Nothing came up, thank god, but her lungs worked overtime. Her chest pumped harder to no avail; no oxygen was to be had. The room spun, twirled, and twisted as the sound of her heart broke through everything else.
“Oh, Maxi.”
Hearing Jaya’s voice, she looked up as tears erupted from dry wells. “Momm…” she moaned, and reached for her. Maybe she crossed a line, or whatever, but Max was so god damn broken. Needing safety and someone who understood, she wanted Jaya. The woman didn’t waste a second. She joined her on the floor and wrapped Max in a nurturing embrace.
In her arms, she wanted to sleep away the bad dream, or nightmare. Max had no will to beat away a rising sadness, and Jaya gave her time. She held Max tight and rocked her as any mother would. The slow, steady motion and warmth helped to calm her down, eventually.
“I’m so sorry, Max, I tried talkin—”
“It’s not his fault.”
Lying on her lap, Max inhaled the familiar scent of fresh air and lemon. For almost a hundred years, Jaya took care of her. Tended to every diaper and bottle. She’d made Max dresses, and learned the proper way to care for 4a hair. She was there for every milestone, scrape, and complaint. Jaya had a say in Max’s life. She had every right to make her voice heard, but Tracy would never… he was stuck in the past, and unable to see this angel for who she was…
Max’s mother.
“He told me Matthias blackmailed him.”
Jaya gasped, causing Max to open sticky, heavy lids. Turning onto her back, she studied the ceiling. “It’s either this, or he’d snitch.”
“Oh, my god.” Leaning in, Jaya kissed her forehead. “I don’t even know what to say. You are in this mess because of your dad. To be honest, Maxi, I don’t know how much more I can take.”
“Don’t leave him, please. I wanted to be nosey. I wanted to do something dangerous. It’s his fault for allowing me this far, but it’s mine for ever asking.”
Her decisions never led to anywhere good. Time and time again. Grown was a relative term. Max was incapable of not fucking up, and despite being upset and crying out, she blamed no one but herself.
“I am terrified of being married again. Of being owned and rendered property. I don’t wanna be duped into hell…”
“Look at me, Max.” When she refused, Jaya forced their eye contact. “Not every man you meet is Kyle. Don’t make the mistake of putting his face on them.”
“I already have.”
Jaya shook her head and pulled Max in. Flush against her ample bosom, she cradled her like a child. “Oh, sweetheart…” she sighed. “All I ever want is for you to be happy, Maxi. And I won’t leave this family until you are.”
“You are my family, Jaya.”
“I am, and I’ll always be here for you, but your father…”
“He loves you.” Max croaked the words, and she almost started crying again, but for Jaya. It was tough to witness and took years to understand. Their stolen glances and coy smiles. The way her father cared for Jaya while keeping his distance was tragic.
Max felt so bad for her. Being in love with Tracy Bissette had only led to dinner for one. Her father’s heart was encased in glass and steel.
“I know,” Jaya murmured. “But I can’t live like this forever. Torturing myself has run its course, love.”
Max wiggled free of her warm hold and grabbed Jaya’s hands. “Every kid wants to see their parents together. I always thought it would happen. I’m so sorry.”
Jaya was an Afro-Portuguese beauty queen, of some two hundred years old. Tall and thick, she got attention from every guy on the street. Poor thing had soccer mom style and loved her Velcro sandals, but god, she was ethereal. Tracy was a stupid, stupid man.
“As my matron of honor, you’re gonna have your hands full.”
Jaya giggled with bubbling tears in her eyes. “Really?”
“Yeah, you are my Mom after all… if that’s okay with you.”
She nodded. “You’ve always been my daughter, honey. Now, we gotta do something about this outfit. That boy wants to say hello.”
Max put on a half-cocked smile and shrugged. “Maybe I’ll dye it purple and turquoise. I wanna be hideous as possible,”
Jaya laughed, and Max joined her with a hysterical cackle. Life wasn’t great, but lemons and lemonade.

Hi y’all, I hope everyone had a good Monday! Day job is kicking my ass, but I am still here. Still pushing these chapters out for y’all. And what a chapter it is. So, by now, I know you hate Tracy. I get it. He’s not my favorite person either. He’s one of those parents who are hell on earth but will also do the most for their child. Tracy is that parent. Does this excuse his behavior??? Noooo. Poor soul believes he knows best. Sad. Anyway, I felt so bad for Maxi. I wanted to slump Matthias then and there. No lie. I remember cussing his ass out while writing this scene. Whew, chile. Anyway, it’s about 11pm and I ammmmmmm sleepy. I’m gonna turn in now. As always, thank you for reading. You are a good human who makes a difference in my day-to-day.
I hope y’all have a good week and see you sooooon. Bye, loves.