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Maybe that will satisfy my yearning to be bitten by him. Rather than mark me with his teeth, he can mark me with his release.
Rook stares at me with molten lust. “Unexpected.” He raises his eyebrows. “Does it arouse you to imagine this?”
“Fuck, yes.”
“Luckily, you won’t have to wait for me to get hard again. I’m an incubus.”
Breathless, I laugh. “Eternally hard?”
“As long as I desire.”
“Make me dirty. Make me yours.”
I grab him and stroke him once, twice, before he lets me slide down the wall. When he steps back, I follow him.
“Pyrah.” There’s a rasp in his voice. “Allow me.”
He takes matters into his own hands. He’s rougher, faster than I was with him. He cups his balls and juts his hips forward. Watching him pleasure himself, I can’t hold back. My hand darts down and I start rubbing myself with near desperation. His face tightens and his wings flare behind him.
With a grunt, he comes all over me, ribbons of pearl across my breasts.
It’s unbelievably arousing to be marked by him. I’m shaking with unspent desire. Feverish warmth radiates from my skin.
I’m in heat for him. Ineedhim.
“Rook,” I plead. “This is torture.”
Rather than hold me against the wall again, he lies back in the fallen rose petals. His wings spread to an impressive width.
“Ride me,” he says.
It’s such an unexpected request, my hands tighten into fists. “I don’t know how.”
“You know your body.” He lifts himself onto his elbows. “When you take my cock for the first time, I want you to be completely in control. And I want you to feel more pleasure than pain.”
After I straddle him, he crosses his arms behind his head. He looks almost lazy, like a lounging tiger, but restrained power tenses every muscle in his body. I slide my hand down his stomach, then lower still.
“Are all incubuses this big?” I ask.
“Wouldn’t know.” He shrugs. “Probably not.”
I smirk. “How humble of you.”
“How honestof me.”
His joking helps me to relax. Still holding him, I bring him closer to me like a key to a lock. He throbs at my entrance but doesn’t thrust into me. He might be holding his breath. When I rock my hips, I’m so wet that he slides along me. I grind against him until the hollow ache of desire becomes unbearable.
Instinct urges me to take him deep inside me.
I lower myself onto him, but only his crown fits before there’s a sharp twinge of pain. I’m afraid of hurting myself, afraid he’s too big for me. His hands brace my hips until the muscles in my thighs stop shaking.
I glance into his eyes. “Can you…?”
“Tell me.”
“Can you help me take you?”
He strokes into me, stops when he’s met by resistance, then strokes even deeper. Every ridge of him demands my attention. Pain steals my breath for a moment. But he’s still no more than halfway inside me.
