Demon on the Dance Floor by Cynthia Sax

Demon on the Dance Floor


by Cynthia Sax

Cover art: Bryan Keller

ISBN: 978-1-59596-940-8

Genre(s): Paranormal, Urban Fantasy

Theme(s): Magic and Mayhem, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures

Length: Novella

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Blurb:
Having lived for over three thousand years, Maximus -- a powerful blood demon -- thinks he has seen everything. That is... until a sexy vessel dances into his nightclub. Max has never met an unattached vessel before. They are rare and coveted by demons. He is determined to bond with the brave little brunette, keeping her for his eternal mate.


Unfortunately every other demon on the planet wishes to capture her powers. Can Maximus woo and win his freedom-loving Kayla or will an ancient rival use darker tactics to bind her?

Excerpt:
Demon on the Dance Floor


Cynthia Sax

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2010 Cynthia Sax



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It was Friday night, and scantily-clad bodies writhed on the dance floor. Kayla moved to the pulsing rhythm, brushing against other dancers. She loved the decadent feel of skin. After a long week of little physical contact, she needed to touch. She looked up to the second level of the club. A man leaned against the railing, watching her. She needed to touch him.

His name was Maximus. Max to patrons. As far as she knew he had no last name. He didn't need one. Everyone knew who he was. What he was. The blood demon owned the club. He was wealthy, ancient, and powerful. No one messed with him.



She shouldn't mess with him either. She raised her hands, silently calling him to her. There was a flash of red in those demon black eyes. It could have been the strobe lights. Kayla fancied it to be desire. He slowly rolled up the sleeves of his black dress shirt, exposing muscular forearms. Her body vibrated with anticipation. He did that before he danced with her.



He never danced with anyone else. Kayla knew she was deluding herself by thinking that meant something. He was a demon. She was a mere human. He stomped down the stairs. Patrons scattered before him. He was large, looming head and shoulders over the average man. Those shoulders were impossibly wide, accentuating a trim waist.



He made his way through the crowd to her. Kayla resisted the urge to run to him. Instead, she danced, knowing he would come to her. That dark intent was etched into his face. Max wasn't pretty boy handsome. His face was too wide and his chin too square. He was power personified. Black hair fell over his forehead. Kayla's fingers itched to push it back.



A tall blonde danced in front of her, and Kayla lost sight of Max. All she saw were big breasts bouncing. She closed her eyes, blocking out her new view. She didn't have to see that. She didn't have to see him. She felt him approach. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up. The music slowed to a throbbing primal beat. A big hand clasped her swaying hips.



That was what she needed. She needed Max's hands on her body. She leaned back into him, reaching up to wrap her fingers around the nape of his neck. His other hand slid under her halter top, his callused fingers rough against her stomach. She undulated against him, shamelessly brushing her ass against his crotch. He moved with her, pressing her into him. They were as one on the dance floor.



She lifted her chin and breathed in deeply. He smelled of expensive cologne and that distinctive scent that was all Max. That scent filled her body. They danced, lost in each other. Max's demon heat warmed her. He kissed and licked behind her ear. His fingers stroked an inch below her left breast, his touch making her pussy throb to the rhythm. It begged for release.



As if reading her thoughts, he turned her in his arms. This close, there was no mistaking his desire. His eyes glowed red. His jaw clenched. The throbbing in her pussy intensified.



He pulled her to him so she straddled his thigh, her short black skirt pulling up. Sweet heaven. She ground against him. He felt so good. His right hand was on her ass, his fingers cupping and squeezing. His left hand was between her breasts. Her breasts and legs quivered. She was going to come, right in the middle of the dance floor.



"Max," she cried out, her voice drowned out by the music. She clutched at his shoulders, frantic with feeling.



"Come for me, Kayla," he commanded. His voice, low and deep, reached down into her, pushing her toward pleasure. She was helpless to resist it.



The other dancers faded from her view. All she saw and felt and heard was him. He coaxed passion from her using ancient, crude-sounding words she did not know yet understood all the same. She rocked against him again and again, her fever building. She was burning.



"Max." She arched, sliding her pussy forward on his thigh, thrusting her breasts up. He bent his head, his hot mouth dragging along her curves, and she broke. The darkness of the club burst into the light of a thousand laser beams. She convulsed, shaking in his arms.


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