Unexpected—and perhaps a little disappointing—but it all worked the same for me. Before I could even act, he thrust himself back between my lips. A surprised sound lodged in my throat, and it seemed to turn him on even more. I no longer had to worry about who was taking the initiative here; it was all him. His hands held my head and neck in place as he pumped away, pushing into me over and over.

The life-force transfer started in earnest, his energy flooding into me with his thoughts and feelings. Finally, finally, finally, he thought, aching desire crackling through him. Feeling his mind and soul, I realized then he might not have been so easy a tag as I originally thought.

He loved his girlfriend. Loved her passionately. But she didn't like oral sex, and one of the biggest fantasies of this guy's life was to—bluntly—fuck her face. Had I started foreplay in some other way tonight, he might very well have been strong enough to decline. But I had given him the one thing he couldn't refuse. It overpowered the guilt lurking in the back of his mind.

I'll never get this chance again. Allison doesn't have to know.

I knew that rationalization well. It was just about the oldest in the book.

He thrust more urgently, that long shaft filling my mouth as his eyes watched me eagerly, and unintelligible, primal noises sounded in his throat. And for me, who had been denied an orgasm, pleasure was building in a different way. Life-force transfer doesn't occur at the point of a physical contact or even orgasm. It's bigger than that, more holistic. Soul to soul. His energy washed over me now in waves, and it was pure ecstasy as I rode that ocean higher and higher. My body burned with it, nearly to the breaking point. Before that crest crashed over, before our connection broke, I caught one more thought from him, plain and simple: mouth or face}

Ah, men.

He chose mouth, moaning loudly as he came. Warm, bitter liquid flooded over my tongue as his body spasmed and his nails dug into my neck and scalp. I waited until he finished, then swallowed because I knew it was what he wanted me to do. It was what every guy wanted. And really, it was the least I could do for him, because with his orgasm came a climax of my own.

The full force of his energy hit me like a bolt of lightning at the same time he felt its loss. I broke from him, gasping at the feel of that power, swimming in that bliss, invigorated and alive. He, however, stiffened and paled, suddenly weak and confused at losing something he hadn't even known he had. He groped blindly for support and caught the edge of a table as his legs gave out underneath him. The table saved him from completely falling over, and I caught his other arm, balancing him. Carefully, I eased him down so he could sit and lean his body against a chair.

His eyes struggled to stay open as the shock of his energy loss pulled him toward unconsciousness. Another cardinal succubus rule: the stronger the guy, the stronger his loss would be. "Oh my God…what's wrong with me?"

Pushing aside whatever kindly feelings or sympathy I might have, reminding myself he'd—eventually—recover, I stared down at him coolly and rearranged my clothes. "I think you drank too much." I leaned over and tugged up his pants. "I'll go get help."

He started to protest, but I was already out the door. I strode back to the dance floor, haloed in his energy. I felt like a goddess entering a temple of worshippers, and many sets of eyes seemed to regard me as exactly that. A few quick searches, and I found his friends from earlier. I told them he'd passed out downstairs and left them to deal with it.

"This one's on me," I heard Hugh say when I walked back up to the bar. My post-sex glamour would be especially obvious to him.

I ordered a shot of Jagermeister and chased it with another shot of Goldschlager. Nothing like funny-named liquor to top off an evening.

"Does it make you feel better?" the imp asked. He inclined his head toward the two empty glasses.

"No," I said. "But sometimes it helps me not remember as much."

I went home after that and cooked myself in a long, hot shower, trying to wash away the feel of sex. My buzz soon yielded to my second headache of the day and a slightly nauseous feeling. I had just settled down on the couch for mindless TV watching, back in my normal shape, when Seth showed up.

"I wanted to see how you were doing," he explained, sitting down next to me.

"Better," I told him uneasily. "Sort of. I went out with the gang."

"Ah. Sounds fun." He didn't sound entirely sincere. I think "the gang" still kind of weirded him out a little.

He leaned his head on the couch and stared at me for a long time, not saying anything.

I laughed in spite of myself. "What?"

"I don't know," he said, face serious. He reminded me of a child staring at the tree on Christmas morning. "It's weird. It's just you're so…so beautiful tonight. I mean, you're always pretty, of course, but tonight, I don't know—I can't take my eyes off of you. I want to…" He didn't give voice to the urge.

"Must be the wet hair and pajamas," I said lightly. "Always a turn-on."

But I knew what was bedazzling him. The guy from the club. Or rather, that guy's stolen life. Humans couldn't resist it. Immortals couldn't resist it. Racking my brain, I realized Seth had never seen me so soon after a fix. He'd seen me the same day sometimes—and also commented on my attractiveness then—but this was the first time he'd received its full effect. It made me feel guilty to see him looking at me like this.

His hand reached for mine, and I tried not to flinch as he took it. Even after the shower, I felt dirty and cheap. I didn't want him to touch me after what I'd done, even if it had been in a different body. I didn't deserve such love.

Seth sighed, still enchanted. His long fingers traced warm, whirling patterns on my skin. I felt my breathing grow heavier. "I wish I could put your beauty into words. But I'm not that good of a writer. Guess I need some work."

I stood up hastily and tugged at his hand. "Now you're just being silly. I think you're the one that needs to go home and rest."

He blinked. "Oh. So no more, uh, attempts at sleeping?"

I hesitated. I wanted to do it again but still didn't trust myself. Or Seth actually, not with the way he kept watching me with such rapt admiration, that heat burning in his eyes. One would have thought a backroom fling might have sated my lust for the night, but I wanted Seth just as much as ever. Of course, in retrospect, maybe that wasn't a surprise after all. Said fling hadn't exactly addressed my physical needs.

"No," I told Seth. "Not yet. Too soon."

He looked like being separated from me would hurt him physically, but he finally conceded when I let him kiss my cheek. It was long and lingering, more sensuous than one would expect, making me inhale and then exhale a long, shuddering breath. I wouldn't return the gesture, however. Not with these lips. He waxed on about my beauty a few more times before finally leaving, and I went to bed shortly thereafter.

Lying there, I told myself over and over that I had done the right thing at the club. I had done what I needed to do to keep myself strong and capable. After all, Seth had said he loved my "whirlwind." Sex was the means of keeping it strong. I had done the right thing. And I had done the right thing with Doug too. Everything I'd done today had been for the best.

And yet…if that was true, then why did I feel so terrible about it all?