Succubus Lord 9 by Eric Vall

Author:Eric Vall [Vall, Eric]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-08-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Aruna hoisted her naked body out of the pool, shook herself off like an animal, and then did a few stretches as she let the hot Arizona sun dry her off.

I pulled myself to the concrete surface, and I instantly felt the water on my body begin to evaporate as if it were under a heat lamp. I stared at the naked Rakshasi assassin as she quickly re-tied her top and then pulled her pants on over her tight ass.

She shot me a brief seductive look over her shoulder as she re-dressed, and then she schlocked her boots back onto her feet.

“I see you’re itching for round two?” Aruna purred as she glanced down at my returning erection.

“Can you handle a round two?” I snickered. “You came pretty hard.”

“Yesss,” she sighed,” but after the mission is over. Right now, it sounds like your madame has made a breakthrough.”

“What?” I flirted back as I pulled my pants back onto my now-dry body. “You don’t think we could get in a quickie?”

“Please,” the Rakshasi joked. “We both know a ‘quickie’ would be impossible for either of us to accomplish.”

“Blast,” I laughed and tugged my shirt over my torso, “foiled by my unselfish love-making once again.”

Now dressed, the two of us walked back across the yard toward the house. Aruna tried to stay a few feet ahead of me so she could feign disinterest, but she kept sneaking glances back over her shoulder at me as she walked, and I was sure everyone could figure out what we were doing out here all alone.

The assassin opened up the door and strutted in, and then I was right behind her.

“Do you feel better?” Superbia asked knowingly as her eyes darted back and forth between the two of us. “It looks like the two of you are much less tense than you were before.”

“Two of us?” Aruna chuckled. “Jacob was the one who was swimming. I was just out there brushing up on my Italian with Martatelli the whole time.”

“Oh?” Superbia asked coyly. “You mean the same Martatelli who’s been in here watching cooking shows for the last forty minutes?”

I glanced over the redhead’s shoulder to see the ghost of Angelo Martatelli sitting on the leather couch beside Raphael, who was now up and alert.

The two of them were sitting there chatting it up while they watched some sort of chef’s competition on the wall-mounted flat-screen TV.

“I thought our flat screen was destroyed in the fight with Metatron?” I asked curiously.

“We bought another one soon after you left.” Sia shrugged. “Oliver and the cultists may not have run our businesses very well while we were gone, but there was most certainly enough in our reserve funds to replace a television. Besides, we needed something to keep Martatelli busy while you were gone. He kept saying he wanted to go out and explore the city, but we all agreed having a Renaissance Italian ghost floating around Phoenix was a bad idea.”

Angelo laughed joyously, clapped his hands together, and then exclaimed something to Raphael in his native tongue.

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