Succubus on Top (Georgina Kincaid 2)

I had a feeling Dana wouldn't describe same-sex activities as fun, but I still felt better at having voiced my opinions.

"You express yourself very well," she admitted. "Even if I don't necessarily agree with you."

I laughed out loud, and she looked at me strangely. "No, I didn't think you would."

We grew quiet again, and I remembered I was supposed to be sounding her out on what she found romantic for Bastien.

"I wish I could choose who I was attracted to," I said out of the blue, bringing up personal matters in a manner that was out of character for both Tabitha Hunter and Georgina Kincaid.

Dana seemed appropriately startled. "Things aren't going so well with your boyfriend? What was his name? Sven?"

"Seth," I corrected, feeling only a little bad at dragging him into the cover story. Things with Seth were actually beautiful at the moment, but for the sake of appearances, I kept lying. "He's okay, I guess, and I like him...but he's not very, you know, romantic. "

"Ah," she said neutrally.

"Am I crazy? Is that too much to ask? Maybe I should focus on other things."

"What do you consider romantic?"

"I don't know. Little touches and flourishes here and there. Gestures to show how important you are, how much the other person cares about you." Irises, smiley-face pancakes. "What do you think it is?"

She shrugged. We were rounding the corner back to Bastien's now. "I've come to see romance as not quite so important anymore," she admitted. "Neither Bill nor I have time for it."

"Oh."

"That's not a bad thing. I'd say, more important than superficial flourishes is being able to connect with someone. To talk openly with them and share yourself. To know they're feeling what you're feeling."

"Oh," I said again, surprised. Her comments almost made sense. In some ways, they were a variation of Seth's views on honesty in a relationship. Biting my lip, I plunged on. "And what about...you know, attraction and sex appeal?"

She gave me a sidelong glance. "What about it?"

I shrugged. "I don't always feel it around him." Liar, liar, pants on fire. "Do I have the wrong ideas about it? What do you think is sexy?"

Her answer took a long time in coming. "I don't know."

Bastien stood by his front door as we approached. He waved a hand in greeting. "Hello, ladies." He looked pleasantly astonished to see us together - and getting along.

Dana thanked me for the company and returned to her own home after refusing Bastien's automatic invitation to come inside and stay a while. Once she was gone and we were in the car headed to my photo shoot, I gave him the scoop on our talk.

"She doesn't know what's sexy?" he exclaimed. "She's practically begging for me to ravage her. Hmph. And Bill's not romantic. Well, no surprise there. You think she was lying about saying it wasn't important? Sort of a defense mechanism?"

"I don't know. Possibly. But even if she does miss romance, I think too many over-the-top gestures would throw up a flag. She isn't stupid. Profound conversation might be the way to go."

"Then the cooking thing is a good idea. Lots of talking there."

"I guess." I didn't tell him that I had doubts about the efficacy of that method. Honestly, I wasn't sure what he could do anymore.

We'd decided to pull out all the stops for my pictures. He drove us downtown to the Hotel Andra, one of the nicest local spreads, despite its plain exterior. Through some charm I didn't know about, he'd even managed to book us the hotel's one-of-a-kind Monarch Suite on practically no notice. It had more room than we could possibly need, but its true selling point - for me - was an utterly sumptuous, utterly sexy bed. Enclosed in its own romantically lit alcove, it had a deep, royal purple spread and a headboard of gleaming, black wood. The whole effect was dark and sensuous. We shape-shifted out of Mitch and Tabitha upon clearing the door.

"This bed alone," declared Bastien, "will sell these pictures. Well, that and your naked flesh. But really, it's a tough call."

He raided the mini-bar and made us improvised Grand Marnier martinis, which I gulped down with surprising eagerness. Suddenly, facing these pictures seemed a lot more daunting than I'd originally believed.

"Nothing to it," he said, sensing my nervousness. "Put on something sexy and sprawl on the bed."

I hadn't brought anything in particular to wear, for once willingly opting for shape-shifting. I started with a basic black nightgown. Super short, super low-cut. It seemed like a safe bet. Bastien positioned me on the bed, lying back in a sort of languid pose. He mussed my hair and requested a lazy pout.

"The point here, Fleur ,is to make it look like if you don't get f**ked again soon, you're going to be very, very upset. Men go for that."

My apprehension melted away as Bastien took over, directing my postures and expressions, snapping away with his digital camera. We ran the gamut. Some shots I did completely naked, hiding nothing. For others, we found the suggestion of nudity could almost be more provocative. The way the slipped strap of a chemise could nearly reveal a breast. The way a sheer bra and panty set could cover and yet not cover.

Nor did we give all of them the just-got-fucked look. In some, I was very elegant, unbelievably perfect in every possible way, not a strand of hair out of place. In others, however, we played up the messy, wild look - "unplanned," as Seth would say. We also didn't limit ourselves to the bed, as gorgeous as it was. I posed by windows, by a sofa, by the bathtub, in the bathtub. Both of us, as was requisite for our jobs, had pretty good imaginations for what was sexy and alluring. Nonetheless, we had brought along a few lingerie catalogs and adult magazines for inspiration. We would take breaks to plan, both of us frowning and giving each new pose serious thought.

All in all, it was an exhausting endeavor, but Bastien's energy never flagged as he guided me through it all with a professional ease. And honestly, after a certain point, I didn't need his coaching. I knew I was sexy, and it was easy to play that up, especially knowing that Seth would view all of this.

When the incubus had filled up the memory card, we finally called it quits. Sprawling on the bed beside me, he called room service and ordered us some professional martinis, since we'd run out of Grand Marnier. They arrived, and we luxuriated in a well-deserved rest, sipping our drinks.

"Thanks Bas," I told him, touching his arm. "You're a good friend."

"Easy to be one when the subject matter is so nice to look at. You're going to have a bitch of a time getting these printed, though. Take them to a store, and you won't get them back."

I'd already thought of that. "Hugh has a snazzy, state-of-the-art printer. I'll do it there." I considered. "Although, he might keep a few too."

"I wouldn't blame him." Bastien set his drink down and rolled over to regard me affectionately, face almost serious for a change. "You're a beautiful woman, Fleur ,and that means something when you can perfectly control your appearance. It's not your physical side - as nice as it is. It's something in here." He tapped my breastbone. "Something warm and sensual and lovely that shines out. I'd know you in any body, in any place. "

I curled up against him, happy. "I'm glad you're here. Even if it's because of the Barton and Dana mess. We're going to fix that for you, you know. I promise. I'm not letting them ship you off somewhere horrible."

A faint, playful smile curled his lips. Affection shone in his dark eyes, affection that was no doubt mirrored in my face. Suddenly, he leaned over and kissed me.

Whoa.

It wasn't a friendly kiss either, not the kind we so regularly planted on each other's lips in a careless way. This was a deep kiss, an erotic kiss. His lips felt like velvet, his tongue slowly sliding over mine. I was so floored by what was happening that for a moment I couldn't do anything except sink into that kiss and let it send shockwaves through my body.

My senses returned to me, and I broke away, sitting up. "What the hell are you doing?"

He sat up as well, as surprised by my reaction as I had been by what triggered it. "What do you mean?"

"You kissed me. I mean, really kissed me."

He grinned, sensual and provocative. I shivered. When incubi targeted you with that charm, it was bewildering, even for a succubus.

"What's wrong with it? You mean more to me than anyone else in the world. This is a natural step for us. We should have been doing it a long time ago."