Lucifer’s Daughter(16)

“We"re here,” he said, in a change of subject.

I looked at the warehouse-type building in front of us with nary a sign of a restaurant to be seen.

“Is it a secret restaurant?” I asked.

“No, it"s called my kitchen,” he said, unlocking a heavy-duty, steel door.

“You cook?” I asked, as I followed him through the door and up a wide set of stairs.

“Very well, actually,” he said over his shoulder.

At this point, I shut up and tried to enjoy the view--or I would have, if his damn leather duster hadn"t been in the way. I wondered if he"d object to taking it off before walking up the rest of the stairs. Deciding this would be too forward even for me, I pondered instead the fact that he"d invited me to dinner in his apartment. Now, most girls would be thinking, “Wait a second, I barely know this guy. He could be a psycho,” but I"m not most girls. And I had a sneaky feeling Auric wasn"t most guys.

Besides, Dad would have a kitten if he knew I was here.

Three flights of stairs later, which left neither of us breathing hard–so he wasn"t just pretty muscle--he unlocked another riveted steel door and we entered his lair.

As man caves went, his ended up being rather disappointing. No red velvet. No chains hanging from the ceiling. No dim lighting or soft music playing. Instead, I walked into a cavernous space.

Being a converted warehouse, the ceiling stretched way above me, and had iron beams and piping running throughout, along with lighting suspended on steel wires. Tinted windows made up one wall, with a half-decent view of the city.

In one corner, he had some heavy-duty exercise equipment: punching bag, treadmill, weights, and various other contraptions of torture. The center of the room seemed to be a living-slash-dining area with an L-shaped leather couch facing a big screen television, and behind the couch area, a rather boring wooden kitchen table and four chairs.

The back wall had his kitchen area, with gleaming black cabinets and a granite countertop along with some serious stainless steel appliances, complete with an island and stools. Turned out he might have been serious when he said he could cook.



Glancing away from his kitchen, I looked over the rest of his place. The back end of his loft had been partially closed in and had two doors. More than likely a bathroom and storage.

And in the final corner of his abode, and this is where I perked up, he had one massive, I mean we"re talking gi-normous, bed. A four poster, wooden beast, piled high with pillows. Now there was a bed made for sinning.

“We can test it later, if you"d like,” he whispered in my ear, his hot breath making my knees go weak and my panties wet.

But I"d been propositioned before. “Sorry, but I"m holding out for love,” I said, before plopping my ass on one his stools.

Dead silence. Why was it, whenever I mentioned the L-word, men got tongue-tied?

“Wait a second,” Auric said, twirling the stool around so I face him. “Are you trying to tell me you"re still a virgin?”

I could tell by the look on his face, he found this hard to believe.

“One hundred percent virgin. Intact cherry and all the rest. Mind you, I"ve kissed and petted a bit before. Even made it to second base once.”

For a second his eyes went funny, and he opened his mouth twice as if to speak, but he swallowed hard instead. Saying nothing still, he moved away from me to stand behind the island and open the fridge to pull out stuff.

His lack of comment intrigued me. In the past, whenever I announced my untouched state, I then became inundated with impassioned speeches of how they were the one. A few even made false declarations of love. Unfortunately for them, my father didn"t raise a fool. In the end, I dumped them all. I wasn"t quite sure what love would look or feel like, but I somehow figured I"d know it when it finally hit me.

Watching Auric as he sliced, diced and sautéed his way around the kitchen, my heart fluttered–

and my pussy ached–and I think, in that moment, I realized I might have found the one.

That revelation made me decide to put Auric to the test. I needed to find out now, before I got any more involved, if it would work. This meant a lot of honesty on my part, and I hoped his.

“Who taught you to cook?” I asked.

“I taught myself. It was that or starve. And you?”

“I"m better at cooking trouble,” I retorted, an answer which he rewarded with a chuckle. A sound that sent a shiver through my body and made my nipples take notice. Not one to waste an opportunity, I shrugged off my jacket and let my beamers do their trick.



It took him a second to notice, but when he did, and cut himself, I inwardly grinned. I might not be a succubus, but I knew how to get a man"s attention.