Elements of Mischief by Tate James
Breath catching in my throat, my heart froze as I watched Britt's wolf form slam into a power pole then crumple to the ground in a lifeless pile of fur. Terror pushed me forward and I tore out of my seat, stumbling towards her deathly still form.
I was so focused on my bestie that I didn't even notice the incubus stepping directly into my path. My momentum was enough that I just plowed straight into his rock-hard chest, sending us both tumbling in a rolling ball of arms and legs and wings and penis (just one—his) until we came to a grunting halt against a parked car.
Sadly, a ninja I was not, so when we eventually stopped, it was with his hand wrapped around my throat and his weight firmly centered on my chest, his knees pinning my arms.
“Any last words, shimmer?” he spat (also clichéd) as he tightened his hold on my neck and I knew my eyes were bugging out with lack of air. I couldn't have spoken even if I did have something amazing and memorable to say.
His hand tightened around my throat, and I knew he was getting perverse pleasure out of killing me slowly. How did I know? He was stark bloody naked and straddling my chest. His boner was practically whacking me in the chin with every gasping breath I struggled to take.
As my airway constricted, my lungs started screaming for oxygen and my vision clouded over. Hot tears began streaming from my eyes, which only seemed to make him more excited. Eyes gleaming, a twisted smile curved across his lips.
“Fucking human trash. That's it—show me how scared you are.” A little drool dripped from his lips and landed on my cheek as he spoke. His words were panted with excitement and I seriously hoped he would succeed in killing me before I ended up wearing his excitement on my face.
“Nigel!” A sharp voice snapped, jerking the jerk-off's attention away from me. “We want her alive, remember?”
“What?” he protested, his sick smile sliding from his face as he frowned up at my possible savior. “No! Standing orders are to kill any unmarked shimmer. This is an unmarked shimmer, and I am killing it.”
“Not this time. Release her neck or I'll tear your bloody cock off.” Whoever this newcomer was, he was seriously saving my bacon. Surely being taken alive had to have more opportunities for escape than the situation I was currently in?
The perverted incubus straddling me reluctantly eased his grip on my throat and I dragged in several panicked, gasping breaths then started coughing violently. My almost-killer gave me a disgusted look and backed away, looking considerably less excited now that I wouldn't be dying in his hands immediately.
“Seriously?” I squeaked out between coughs. “Nigel the incubus? I would've thought demons who fed on sex or whatever would have sexy names, like Antonio or Damien or something.”
“Don't be ridiculous,” my savior scoffed stepping into my line of sight and holding out a hand to help me to my feet. A wicked smile curved across his lips, dripping sex. If I hadn't almost just died or been contaminated by elemental cum, I might've thought he was hot. “Damien is such a clichéd name—I'm Adonis, by the way.”
I cocked a brow.
“Adonis ... as in the word for very handsome young man? No, you're right, that's way less clichéd than Damien.” Warily, I eyed him up. He was clearly also an incubus, with the same huge leathery wings, godlike good looks, allergy to clothing, and cold, cruel looking eyes.
“Uh, thanks,” I muttered, brushing aside his hand as I hauled myself back to my feet and looked over to where I had last seen Britt. She was still lying comatose on the pavement, sending a thrill of fear down my spine.
“What the fuck did you do to my friend?” I demanded, noticing the smear of blood on the sidewalk next to her crumpled lifeless body. Panic rushed through me once more as I started toward her, only to be stopped by tight fingers curling painfully around my wrist.
“A rogue werewolf isn't exactly of much concern to me,” the new incubus drawled in a bored tone of voice that said, quite frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn about your missing werewolf friend. “Shimmer, we don't have time for your delusional ranting. You've been summoned by the COCS, and no one keeps the COCS waiting.”
Stunned, I blinked at him a couple of times before replying. “Sorry … did you just say I've been summoned by cocks?” Maybe the oxygen deprivation was messing with my hearing …
“COCS. C. O. C. S. Committee of Combined Supernaturals.” He rolled his eyes like I was some sort of flaming idiot for not knowing what the fuck he was on about.
“This is bullshit, and you know it,” Nigel the Pervert muttered, scuffing the pavement with his toe. “I earned this kill; you should've let me have it.”
“Shut up, Nigel,” the clearly more superior incubus snapped, then turned his cruel eyes on me. “Now then, shimmer, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way—”
He had barely even finished that word before I began hollering at the top of my voice, hoping that someone in this godforsaken area of town might come to my aid.
“Hard way it is,” the incubus muttered, then punched me hard in the face.
When I woke, my face was pounding like I had just been punched. Oh, wait …
My cheek was pressed against a hard concrete surface and when I tried to move, I found that my arms and legs were bound tight, so the best I could manage was a wiggling shuffle to roll over.
Given a bit more visibility, it became clear I was in an underground cell of some sort, complete with iron bars and dripping tap somewhere.
Pity they couldn't call a plumber to come and fix it, then maybe I'd get rescued by accident …
Total life events worth mentioning before meeting those assholes: zero.
Total life events worth mentioning now: a succubus with a gun, a werewolf as a bestie, men who can turn into elemental dragons (and seem to have, like, zero refractory period when it comes to getting hard again), and a kidnapping.
I'd never really been the sort of person who craved a normal, boring existence, but now … I was sort of craving a boring, normal existence.
Being a minimum wage earning barista in a crappy apartment had never really been glamorous, but it was certainly better than lying on a cement floor in the middle of some secretive incubus hideout waiting for cocks. Er, COCS. Sorry.
The more I thought about cocks—the other kind this time—the more pissed off I became. It was like, who the hell did those assholes think they were? Clearly, leaving the bathroom door open whilst performing supernatural acts was going to cause problems. I mean, if I'd grown up as a supernatural fully aware of all the rules, I sure as hell would've kept my elemental ass a bit of a secret.
I smelled a rat.
Not, like, literally (although I did smell evidence of rats from my current position of nose-to-floor). But … there was something else, a revelation that was starting to sink in at the absolute worst possible time.
I felt like I'd been set up.
With that new surge of righteous indignation, my hands came completely free of the ropes and within thirty seconds, I was standing in the middle of the small, damp room.
“Now that was easy,” Reg's voice said from somewhere near the ceiling. “Do you need a Staples' Easy Button?”
“Please, no office supply store jokes right now,” I said, glancing up and trying not to gag at the strange blue water dragon clinging to the wall. Evidently he'd come in through the pipes running across the ceiling. Guess plumbing was a pretty useful skill after all.
I glanced down and happened to notice that not only had I managed to shed the ropes, but my clothes as well.
I was, however, still primarily human in appearance.
Reg hopped down from the ceiling and shifted back into the fine, masculine specimen I'd taken advantage of that morning. He, too, was naked but I was pretty sure that was by choice.
“Where's Britt?” was the first question that popped out of my mouth. There wasn't really a second question because my brain was actually more concerned with how good it might feel to get picked up by Reg, slammed into a wall, and f
“Dealing with the local alpha male,” he said, and there was something in the way he said it that sounded like he was pissed off. Him. The guy whose fault it was that I was even standing here wondering about Britt in the first place. “Because he detected an unmarked shimmer, went to check it out, and found a visiting werewolf tagging along with her.”
“So this is my fault?!” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and trying not to marvel that I even had a chest at all. I mean, I could feel it, but I could also see the floor through the perfect, round shape of my tits (they were pretty awesome, I must say). “It's my fault that you guys don't know how to close and lock the door to the bloody water closet?!”
“Bloody water … closet? Whoa, you really are British, huh?”
I shoved him in the chest with both palms.
“Australian,” I growled out.
“Australians don't say water closet. I lived there for like five years once and I never heard that.”
“FINE! My dad was British; mum was a kiwi transplant that lived in Australia, and I'm a fucking American. Have a problem with that?”
I shoved him again and he captured my wrists in his hands, tugging me close. I was still see-through, that same odd shade of glimmering aubergine, but Reg had no problem wrapping his long, warm fingers around me.
“You just have a, uh, unique vocabulary is all,” he whispered, and then his lips were crushing mine. Reg was hard and hot, and all of a sudden, I was just aching for him. I wanted him even though I knew I also kind of hated him.
“How are you touching me right now?” I asked him, our lips so close that each word I spoke brushed the full, swollen curve of his mouth. “The ropes … and my clothes …”
“Do you really give a shit?” he asked, but the answer was no: I distinctly did not.
Reg released my wrists and angled us so that my back was to the wall.
I made a mental note to rethink the first day that we'd met … something was afoot here, and I needed to get to the bottom of it. But for now … I was just going to let Reg get to the bottom of me.
He picked me up with his hands under my ass, and lifted me against the wall, slamming my bare back against the rough concrete. Surprisingly though, in whatever strange spirit form I was currently inhabiting, it didn't hurt.
“We don't have a lot of time,” he warned me, but I didn't care. Honestly, the fact that I'd been kidnapped by angry winged men didn't seem to matter so much anymore. In this form, my face didn't hurt at all.
“Then hurry up,” I growled, and Reg grinned. With a single powerful thrust, he filled me with every inch of his cock, taking me as hard and fast as he had that morning—only this time, he didn't have to share.
My mouth slanted against his, our tongues tangling as we engaged in an animalistic frenzy that I just knew my psychologist would want to hear all about. Clearly, I had issues. Screwing a penniless elemental bum one time could be counted as a mistake, but twice?
Nope.
I felt a conspiracy lurking.
Unrestrained sounds escaped my lips, moans that echoed off the walls and mingled with the sound of dripping water and the fierce, wet joining of our bodies. Reg's groans were deep, male, and tainted with this utterly frustrating sense of satisfaction.
God, I hate him.
He moved inside of me like he had a mission, slamming our pelvises together and working my body up into a frenzy of pleasure that almost hurt.
When he came with a loud grunt, and a tight squeeze of his hands on my ass, I almost killed him.
“You can't be done,” I said as he pulled away and set my feet back on the floor. “You are not fucking done.”
He just smirked at me.
“Let's go. The sooner we get home, the sooner George or Billy would be more than happy to give you that orgasm.”
I squeezed my hands into fists and gritted my teeth.
“I'm going to fucking kill you.”
Reg gave me a long look, one eyebrow raised, his tongue running across his lower lip. “As hot as that sounds, ST, if it's rough sex you're looking for then Billy will sort you right out.”
My lips pursed in frustration as I desperately tried not to feel unbelievably turned on at the suggestion that Billy was into a bit of the Fifty Shades sort of stuff. Despite Reg's insinuation that I was not as innocent as I made out to be (he was right, I wasn't), I had yet to hook up with any guy who really took it past the light spanking and handcuffs stage.
“Reg,” I coaxed, “come on … you're a water elemental. Surely you can appreciate how cruel it is to leave me so wet right now?”
“Au contraire, Sugar Tits,” he smirked wickedly, tugging me by the hand over to the dripping pipe in the corner of the room, “it makes me all the more turned on, being able to sense all that moisture …”
Dropping my wrist he ran his fingers several times up and down my swollen lower lips, making me moan, before stopping. The absolute bloody fucking bastard.
“Come on, sweetheart. Sooner we get home, the sooner the boys can unplug that drain of yours!”
Huffing an angry sigh, I clenched my thighs together in an effort to tell my pussy to calm the fuck down, girl!
“Fine,” I muttered from behind clenched teeth, “point the way out of here and I can finish myself off when we get home. God made vibrators for a reason, after all.”
Reg's ice-blue eyes flashed dangerously for a second, then he nodded thoughtfully and pointed to the tiny crack from which the water was dripping.
“There's the way out,” he informed me, and I stared with narrowed eyes.
“Reg … swear to god, if you're fucking around right now and those incubus dicks find us escaping, I am going to be madder than a cut snake.” My lip was curling a bit in frustrated anger and I was already borderline 'cut snake' mad anyway. How dare this asshole elemental doom me to a five-way forced marriage, then get me almost killed twice and then have the utter gall to leave me without my orgasm?
Despite my momentary lapse in judgement, letting him snake my drain against the wall just moments ago, I couldn't shake the suspicion that this whole thing, this whole damn fuckup, was not an accident.
“Sugar Tits, don't be so suspicious all the time,” Reg sighed, almost as if he could hear my thoughts, “that's our way out. You've just gotta turn elemental again and then I can take you with me.”
Apparently sometime during or right after our quickie … I'd solidified.
Oh. Okay, turn elemental again? Well, that sounded reasonable. Except …
“How the fuck do I do that?” I hissed, bordering on panicked. What would happen when the incubi found us here, trying to escape? Being sentenced to death had seemed like the worst that could have happened but finding myself tied up in a dungeon—awaiting judgement by COCS—led me to thinking there was something worse than death.
Like not getting an orgasm for example.
Reg gave me a calculating look.
“What have you been thinking about the last couple of times you turned elemental? Maybe it'll work again?”
What had I been thinking about? Just then when I'd been lying on the floor, my hands and feet bound, and the smell of rat shit … rats … I'd been thinking about smelling a rat. Because this whole unwilling elemental bullshit seemed like a set up! Indignation flared through me, heating my belly and whipping my furious glare at Reg, who was … clapping?
“Perfect, Sugar Tits! Now let's make like George and leaf.”
Without waiting for my response, he snatched my translucent, sparkling, aubergine wrist in his hand then shifted into his water dragon form with a shimmering of light. Dragging me with him, he dove toward the tiny dripping crack.
Being forcefully dragged through a water pipe barely thicker than … er … Shane's pipe, was an experience I hoped to never repeat again, as long as I lived. It felt like I was being both compressed and torn apart all at the same time, while also flying through space at a
Needless to say, when we finally made it free of the COCS building and into the trees behind it, I promptly vomited all over the ground. My regurgitated breakfast narrowly missed Reg's feet by inches and I kind of wish it had hit him. Bastard.
“Fucking hell, Sugar Tits, what is that just coffee and whiskey? We need to get some real food into you if you're going to keep drinking this hard …” Reg's voice and hand ran over me in a surprisingly soothing way, sending tingles down my spine and exploding near my frustrated and aching pussy.
God-fucking-damn him for leaving me unfinished.
“Come on,” the infuriating water elemental chuckled, “let’s get home before I change my mind and pound your pool like a waterfall after a monsoon.”
The trip back home was a relatively easy one—I just rode Reg again.
But like, on his back instead of his cock this time.
Still, my cunt was pressed into the strong muscles of his body, muscles that were made of water and yet still felt warm and firm between my thighs. I didn't pretend to understand—I was a barista, not a chemist—but let's just say that snaking through the ice-cold drafts above the city completely starkers on the back of a sinuous water dragon with horns and a long whiplike tail was a little, how should I put it, weird? Fucked? Let's go with fucked.
In an odd way, it sort of reminded me of how the Care Bears used a rainbow bridge to travel between … fuck, I 'm showing my age now, aren't I?
Reg carried us all the way back, through the front door, and into the living room at Gram's mansion where he dropped us both on top of the coffee table—completely and totally on display for the other three elementals who sat around eating pizza and drinking beer.
“Are you all bloody bonkers?!” I screamed, seeing them all just chillin' while I'd been nearly killed and then kidnapped by naked winged men. “Thanks sooooo much for coming to look for me, you useless sacks of shit! Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker, I didn't think Reg would be the only one worried enough to come and save me.”
“Calm down, Blossom.” George smiled, and I wanted to punch his fucking lights out. “We knew you were safe; Reg wasn't going to let anything happen to you. Although we sort of expected you back sooner than this. What held you up?”