Books, Writing

Trick or Treating with an Incubus

Have you met Ink, the titular sex demon from my new reverse harem series? It’s the perfect scorching read for Halloween with a scary-spooky twist.

Your Halloween treat is Ink’s return in the next book, Claw.

Warning: Steamy Scene Ahead!

An edge exists between the living and the dead, the celestial plane and the mortal realm, reality and its reflection. Upon that sliver of existence is where the witch–

“Damn it!” I gasped, nearly sending the book flying from a rash of tickles prickling across my stomach. “Ink…”

Breath hotter than brimstone twisted against the back of my ear as two hands caressed down my sides. Biting my lip, the ticklish nerves transformed to a different tremble. He pressed the full breadth of his palm to my jittery belly, working his way under the Bellpeppers uniform top.

Two weeks ago, returning from work, tossing away my pants and falling to the floor to dig into my nursing homework wouldn’t have given me a second’s pause. Having a personal incubus forever lurking at my elbow was going to take some getting used to. Ink’s attentions grew in fervor, the man slipping his fingers under my panties. He brushed back my hair with his other hand so he could place a kiss to my neck.

“I thought I was supposed to be studying,” I said even while losing to his demonic sway.

He grazed his teeth along my throat and said, “That’s not what you truly desire.”

Coming off a ten-hour night shift hauling cargo for the Friendliest Big Box store in the Midwest, I thought I’d only desired a quick meal and sleep. But my attempt at microwaving ramen was foiled by the spellbook left sitting on the kitchen table. It demanded my attention like an obstinate cat about to break a vase if it didn’t get what it wanted.

A yawn rounded around my mouth, aching for its release, when Ink’s coy fingers dove right to my clit. Holy shit! My body was wide awake now.

“Why don’t you sleep on me?” he said, tipping back onto the living room floor and splaying me on top of him.

All the while, he caressed one palm under my shirt and continued tantalizing my clit with a speed usually reserved for a ‘neck massager.’ I ramped up to orgasm in record time, Ink arching his hips against my lower back to press his monolith erection against me.

Breath sputtered from my lips, my exhausted body springing to life as I ground against him. Through the panting in my lungs, I asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be teaching me witchcraft?”

“Interesting,” Ink mused in his melodic baritone. “You desire me in a tweed jacket and…carrying a yardstick?”

The flittering thought of Ink as the strict professor having to punish his one student crashed into a pool of guilt. I kept forgetting he could read my every desire, no matter how minute, the second it popped into my head. And he was more than happy to lean into the depravity.

“Tell me, Ms. Leeland,” he spoke, startling me from my inner turmoil. “What is the counter-ward for the acidic saliva of a manticore?”

“A…a pentagram with—”

“Wrong!” Ink shouted and slapped my inner thigh. It wasn’t hard, but loud enough I jumped in shock. Ink didn’t remove his palm, but strained my leg to the breaking point while he caressed the threatening slap up and down my inner thigh.