Page 18 of Ride Me

But I’m not done riding you yet, because I haven’t gotten what I wanted. Not really. And where would you have me go, anyway? Back through the Gate? When there is still so much pleasure to give and feel?

Mambo Toussaint, the voodoo priestess he’d gone to when he’d first accepted Bone Daddy’s bargain in order to save his sisters from the same fate, had apologetically but firmly told him she couldn’t help him. “There’s a way, but I’m not the one to discover it for you.”

He’d read what he could on the subject, which wasn’t much. What he was experiencing wasn’t even supposed to happen. A Loa wasn’t supposed to stay. But because he had, Rousseau had been forced to live with the knowledge that any man or woman at any time could walk right up to him and, if they knew what to say, he would be bound to give them pleasure, without having any of his own.

You’re lying to yourself again. We’ve known satisfaction beyond anything that’s come before. It feeds us, fuels us. I’ve seen your fantasies, too. Seen and delivered. Made you face your passions head on instead of avoiding them.

His piercings brushed against his shirt, a constant reminder, along with most of his tattoos, of just how his Loa had indulged him. Rousseau enjoyed the pain. It was solid and real. And since it had been years since he’d been allowed to climax, it was also necessary for his sanity.

And wasn’t that just the biggest fucking joke of all. Tied to a sexual demon who gave everyone and their brother an orgasm, and he never got one of his own.

That hurts. I’m no demon.

What would Allegra think if she knew about all the things he’d done? Her secret desires led him to believe she might understand, possibly even be aroused if he approached it correctly. But he knew better than most that fantasies were kept private for a reason. What aroused some people in private could in fact be the antithesis of who they were, or who they presented themselves to be. The strong often longed to be forced into submission. Those who seemed gentle secretly liked it rough.

Most people found titillation in the forbidden. The mystery and danger inherent in the unknown.

There were people who had come to Rousseau requesting Bone Daddy’s services that had left him physically satiated but emotionally troubled. For them, the reality of finally giving in to their darkest desires had left them questioning their true natures.

Bah. It’s more than physical satisfaction. You know as well as I that no one leaves empty handed. And most of our lovers are more than happy with our arrangement.

He wasn’t wrong. The strange side effects of this particular Loa’s attentions were what made him so sought after. The voodoo equivalent of a genie, as one woman so aptly pointed out. Though he was stingy with his wishes, only doling them out to those he deemed deserving.

He wondered what Allegra would wish for.

We can find out, you know. She can be ours. Yours. Any way you want her.

That was the problem. Ours.

Rousseau wanted her to be his. He’d known from the moment she’d looked up at him with pain and determination behind her beautiful smile that she was his match. That she was the one he would choose, if he were free.

He didn’t want to share her with anyone. Not with Ben Adair, a man he considered to be his closest friend, and not with Bone Daddy, the spirit inside him that would never let him go.

He hoped his mother was wrong, because falling in love was the very last thing a man should do with a Loa along for the ride.

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