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Copyright ©2017 Crymsyn Hart
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Polly knocked on the door. She tried to look cheerful while clutching a catalog of Christmas cards, gifts, and other assorted holiday gifts, to her chest. Raising money for the local pound so they could provide food and shelter for homeless animals was important to her. But she cringed every time someone slammed a door in her face.
Footsteps approached and the door opened. A jaw dropping, sexy, tall man stood there. Everything about him was solid. Polly was imagining herself licking him up and down to satisfy some of her inner cravings.
"Go away. I don't want any." The impatience in his baritone voice was evident.
"But I'm not selling anything."
He lifted a dark eyebrow. "Really?"
"That's right." She tried to sound upbeat and not come off like a plastic blonde with nothing going on between her ears.
"I doubt it. I can smell your desperation and cheap perfume."
Motherfucker. He might be sexy as hell, but he is not calling me cheap. Her blood boiled. Polly's fangs extended behind her pursed lips. She shoved them back up with her tongue so he wouldn't see them when she talked.
"It's not cheap. What I have is for a good cause. It's for the local --"
Big Sexy slammed the door in her face.
"Animal shelter. All proceeds go to feeding and providing healthcare." She finished her sentence and her smile dropped. Walk away and move on to the next door. You'll get someone eventually. Think positively.
The demon inside of her reared its head. "Show him who he's talking to. Make him buy shit for the cute, cuddly puppies."
Polly drew herself up and pushed the inner voices away. It got tiring fighting her dual nature. It felt like she had three people warring inside of her head. Her. The succubus and the angel. Polly thought of herself as the quintessential cartoon character with the miniature angel and devil sitting on either shoulder.
The more she thought about the man, the angrier she got. Fifteen doors she had knocked on so far. Not one of them hid a kooky cat lady who would spend all her money on the dozens of cat cards or rolls of wrapping paper sporting kittens batting at dangling ornaments. The day had been a bust. This guy is going to spend money for a good fucking cause.
Polly turned back around, took in a deep breath, trying to stay calm.
"I told you I would win," her dark half muttered.
The angelic side turned its back. Polly shoved them both back into their corners of her mind. She knocked on the door again and tapped into the succubus part of her.
The door opened. Big Sexy had a towel around his waist while he towel-dried his hair. "I told you I don't want any."
"Come on, sir." Polly put a hand on her hip and purred. She caught a whiff of him, like cloves mixed with the deep scent of the woods. Water droplets dribbled down his chest. His green eyes narrowed. Her otherworldly charm didn't seem to be working. This man should have been putty in her hands by now.
"I told you, I'm not interested in anything you're selling. Go away and buy a different perfume. Whatever you're wearing reeks like sulfur. What's it called, Ode de Rotten Eggs?" He waved his hand in front of his nose to remove the scent.
Shit. It's not working on him. Her sweet grin drooped. She clutched the catalog. Time to resort to other measures. She dropped her succubus powers. Her veins ran cold and energy crackled around her as she pulled it from the atmosphere. All sound fell away as she concentrated. With a flick of her fingers, the man's towel flew from his hand and wrapped around his neck. The ends twisted until his face reddened. Veins pulsated in his temples.
Polly stepped closer. The top of her head came to the center of his chest, making him at least six-eight. She poked him in the ribs. "It's because of you stuck-up assholes the shelters can't save all the animals they want. I'm trying to do something good here. I'm so sick of arrogant jerkoffs smashing doors in my face. You're going to buy something." She shoved the catalog under his nose.
The power of Big Sexy's will pulled on her control, but she maintained it. The key was keeping the intention. His burgundy face and bugged eyes showed the force he used to fight her influence. And she intended to bend him until he spent money. Instead, he ripped the catalog from her hands.
He glared at her. Polly didn't break their eye contact. This wasn't about the puppies anymore. This was personal. She balled her hands into fists and fixed her will on that towel staying around his throat. Big Sexy gripped the fabric and tried to pull it away again, but she kept it there. Her nails dug into her palms as he fought her until he gained the upper hand.
He pulled the towel far enough away from his neck and he whispered, "Ab angelis, mando vobis daemonia ire in gehennam." By the angels, I command you demon, go back to hell.
A flash of heat ripped through Polly...