“Wow, you have quick reflexes.”
Careful not to drop it, Quin secured her grip on the dish and removed it from the top of the tower. “I suppose. Um, where do you want this?”
“Oh, keep it. It’s for you, actually.”
“For me?” Quin inspected the foil-covered dish.
Glyma plopped her tower of objects onto one of the chairs opposite Quin’s desk far less carefully than Quin would have. “Of course. How can I sell you on my business idea without offering you a sample of the merchandise?”
Before Quin could stop the words, she heard herself say, “You want me to sample your merchandise?”
With a wholly sinful smile, Glyma gave Quin a second, more thorough onceover. “Well, when you say it like that, you make it sound dirty. But, by all means, feel free to sample my merchandise.”
Dear gods, had Marci messed with the thermostat? Because it was suddenly much too hot in this room.
Flustered and blushing, Quin spluttered out something resembling an apology. “Forgive me. I wasn’t trying to suggest—”
Glyma’s flirtatious expression melted into one of regret. “Oh, no,I’msorry. I thought we were doing a bit.” Quin cocked her head, and Glyma shrugged as her tail flicked anxiously behind her. “You know, because I’m a Succubus, and that clearly took you off guard. And I thought leaning into it could help break the unintentional and annoying sexual tension that constantly exists around me. Clearly, that was a terrible idea, and I’m so sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
“No, it’s fine.”
“Are you sure?” Glyma asked, hands fidgeting. “I feel bad. I can leave if—”
“No, please.” Quin set down the dish and straightened her blazer before offering Glyma her hand again. “Shall we start over? Hi, I’m Quin Duboi.”
With an uncomfortable titter, Glyma stepped forward and took her hand, causing that same electric current to buzz up Quin’s arm. “Glyma Aryti. It’s nice to meet you, Quin.”
“You as well. Please, have a seat and make yourself comfortable. Can I get you anything? Coffee or tea?”
“No, thank you. I’m fine.”
Glyma smoothed her hands over the back of her thighs, flattening the fabric of her dress as she sat down in the second chair. She crossed one leg over the other as Quin rounded her desk and sat down. She pretended to straighten paperwork to keep from ogling Glyma’s exposed thigh, but she failed quite spectacularly.
Twining her fingers, she cleared her throat and offered the Succubus what she hoped was a serene smile. “So, Glyma, tell me about your business.”
Chapter two
Glitter Confetti Cannon
Glyma
Oh deities, the Daemonwas cute. Like, really cute. Sure, she was kind of scary and intense with her piercing black eyes and red, feline pupils, but gods, she was still cute. Short and petite in her business suit, black dreadlocks piled high atop her head between her curling black horns.
Unbidden, the image of Glyma grabbing the base of those horns while the Daemon’s head delved between her thighs popped into her head, but she banished it before it could take root. Sometimes, she really hated being a Succubus. No matter how hard she locked her aura down, it still affected those around her, causing unwanted and uncomfortable sexual tension. And since one of her stomachs fed off sexual energy, her stupid brain wanted to view everyone she met as a possible snack.
Not that Quin Duboi wasn’t a snack. She was. In fact, she would probably be a whole meal. One Glyma could savor for hours.
“No, stop it, you stupid, horny brain!”she chided internally as she drummed several fingers on her crossed knee. Her brain did not listen, deciding instead to wonder what Quin sounded like in the throes of passion. Glyma bet she’d be loud. The reserved ones usually were.
Ugh, Glyma must really need to feed. It was so much easier to reign in the porny thoughts when she was well-fed, in both stomachs. But she’d been busy and stressed, what with starting her own business—or trying to, at least—while still working her day job, that she hadn’t had sex with anyone in nearly a week.
That had to be the reason she wanted to grab the Daemon before her, lay her out on the desk, and eat her out until she screamed.
As Quin settled behind her desk, straightening papers that were, in her opinion, already immaculately straight, Glyma inhaled deeply, catching hints of smoke and scorched earth mixed with something sweet, like burning cherry wood. It was a surprisingly pleasant scent that reminded Glyma of her youth. Of bonfires on the beach, the Dark Sea lapping lazily against the grayish-teal sand as drunk laughter drifted on the breeze. Of sneaking off to indulge in feverish mouths and desperate, unpracticed hands.
Clearing her throat, Quin laced her thin, dark red fingers, and Glyma blinked away the memories as the Daemon said, “So, Glyma, tell me about your business.”
Her business? Oh deities, her business! That was why she was here. Not to seduce the Daemon, but to hire her.
