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Waiting didn’t seem possible. I moved my lips down her body, pulling away only long enough to strip her clothes off. My hands were rough and demanding, not giving a damn if I tore the fabric away as long as I could have her.
And Hera didn’t fight me. In fact, her hands matched my frenzy, pulling my shirt up and over my head, pausing only for a moment at the sight of the still dark bruise.
“It’ll heal,” I assured her before dragging the tip of my tongue over her bottom lip. I didn’t want to lose a moment of this to worry or regret.
She nodded, leaning in to press a shockingly gentle kiss to my side where an especially dark area of the bruising sat. The touch reached far deeper than the injury or the physical. It was as if she somehow managed to get deep enough to soothe old wounds of mine, the marks left behind from years of being nothing but a body to others, nothing but an orgasm dispenser.
Hera was different. She’d gotten me off with no thoughts of herself, as a way to prove to me that she cared about me, not what I could give her. In fact, her being here now, her wanting to feed me even after I’d warned her, proved the same thing.
So I shucked my pants, disposing of the troublesome fabric until we pressed against each other without anything between our heated skin. I was on her in a moment, unable to hold back any longer.
I bent, taking her pebbled nipple between my lips before raking my teeth over the taut nub. The taste of her passion blew anything else I’d had away. My incubus agreed, the beast quiet and sated on her desire. Normally it roared in my head, demanding more, driving me to go further, to take more, but not this time. It was as though each little bit it tasted from Hera fed it in a way nothing had before.
It was like going from empty calories to a nutritious meal.Why?
My brain refused to do the mental gymnastics to work that out at the moment, which was fine by me. I didn’t want to miss a single moment of this due to pointless distraction.
I moved down her body, leaving kisses in my wake, until I grabbed her legs and slung them over my shoulders. I didn’t try to do this in any special way, didn’t think about anything but what I needed—to drown in her. The first touch of my lips to her wet cunt made me groan, and I feasted on her. I slid my tongue up her folds until I rubbed against her hard little clit, her hips shifting as if she wanted both more and less at the same time.
I wouldn’t let her escape, though. She’d agreed to this, she’d given herself to me, surrendered to me, so I used my hands on her hips to hold her still for me. She tasted like freedom, like an offer for a life where I could do whatever I pleased, and I gorged myself on her and that promise.
She had her mouth open, and I missed that I couldn’t hear her, that her sweet little moans didn’t fill the room. I still feasted on her as if I could somehow draw those sounds out if I only tried hard enough.
It didn’t take long for her to tumble into her first release, and the power that came with it astounded me. It was sweet in a strange way, and bottomless in the amount. Too often, sex provided a rush of power, made me strong for a short while, but that was it. It always faded too fast.
Hera was different. I could have drowned in it all and never reached the bottom. Why? What made her different?
I swiped my tongue up her cunt one more time before moving up her body, basking in the way she shivered, in how she arched sharply when I brushed against her hard nipples. Every part of her was so sensitive that even the lightest touch sent her into overdrive, and that was exactly how I wanted her. I didn’t want her to think straight, to consider anything other than me and this moment.
My incubus spread out through me farther, taking over more and more, but it didn’t shove me aside. The sensation was strange and new, as if we moved together instead of against each other.
Usually, I resisted his influence. I hated the feeling of feeding and losing control, so I tried to avoid it. My incubus then roused, taking over, devouring no matter what I wanted or how I felt. It made me powerless against the need.
This time, however, was different. I didn’t experience that sickness, didn’t feel controlled by my incubus. Maybe it was because I didn’t fight for the first time, because I fully sank into that need, both of us in agreement over our goal.
Which was Hera.
I dragged my tongue along the seam of her lips as I caught her thigh and pulled her leg around my hip. The warmth of her pussy seared me, made me desperate to sink into her, and I didn’t waste a moment questioning it or doubting either of us. Instead, I plunged into her waiting body and let her cunt wrap tightly around my cock.
The sensation astounded me. It was so much more than just physical, than the actual place where we connected. Sure, that was great, the snugness of her pussy, the way she squeezed more around me with each wave as her body recovered from her last orgasm. She writhed beneath me, and her heel dug into my back as she used her leg to pull me closer.
And I gave her everything I had. I braced my weight on one elbow, using that hand behind her neck to hold her still as I took her lips in a consuming kiss. Her breath was rough and ragged against my lips, but she only clung tighter to me.
I sank as far as possible into her heat, then withdrew and took her hard. That shifting inside myself, the one that read what she needed and became that, used to frighten me. I used to hate it, to feel as if I were losing myself in those moments, but I didn’t feel like that with Hera.
Iwantedto be what Hera needed in that moment. If she’d had a difficult day, I wanted to be the soft place for her. I wanted to kiss her gently, to spend hours worshipping at the altar of her supple body. When she was in a different mood, I wanted to be that for her too. I craved to hold her down, to overwhelm her with passion and aggression and prove just how much I needed her.
It meant when I was rough now, when I was demanding and fucked her with hard, deep thrusts, when I knew that was exactly what she needed right then, I finally understood and accepted it.
“I love you,” I whispered against her lips, wanting to make sure she believed it. I’d craved her before, but it wasn’t like this.
I needed her—all of her. I needed her by my side, in my life, supporting me. I needed her touch and her taste and her passion. I needed her humor, the way she made me smile, her bravery. Now, I realized something else—my incubus needed her, too. It fed in a way it never had before, feasting off her like a meal it would never finish with. I didn’t even feel that old need to keep going, to drag more from a person, or the fear I might kill them from it.
Instead, it seemed my incubus was careful, as if it cherished her just as I did.
Hera put her hands on my cheeks, forcing my eyes to hers. Her lips moved and she mouthed,“I love you, too,”in return.
With that, I lost my composure. I pressed my forehead to hers as I gave up resisting, as I let myself fall over that edge with her again. She came hard, and whether it was due to me or my incubus, I didn’t give a damn. If she enjoyed it, what did it matter?
