Steamy Saturday — Incubus for Halloween

WARNING! A Five-Chili Steamy Scene Lurks Below!
If you aren’t ready for your phone to catch on fire, click away.

A half-naked man appears in Layla’s living room on Halloween night. He calls himself an incubus and she figures why not have some fun.

EXCERPT INCLUDES:
🌶️ MF
🌶️ Talented Demon Touch
🌶️ Tying Him Up
🌶️ Teeth Deep

The pinch set me off, every soft tingle erupting into a single jolt straight to my core. It shocked me so much I leaped back, his hands falling from my breasts. “I came?” I stuttered, well aware of my body but in denial at its reaction to a stranger’s touch.

“And?” Ink prompted, swirling his palms along the skin of my waist. He kept dipping his fingers back to caress my buttocks.

“I came from you just…touching my tits. That never happens.” Never, ever.

He angled his head, his gaze lingering across my body as if he were finally taking the time to study it. “I would question your surprise,” Ink whispered, “but there are few as skilled as me.” He tugged my pants down, flexing his fingers in my ass, and thrusting his cock through that thin satin against me.

“Oh fuck,” I whimpered, every bit of my lower body—up to and including my toes—ordering me to ride him.

“I hope that means…” He grazed his teeth along my neck, tender kisses marking the trail. “The festivities have only begun.”

I answered him by yanking his tiny underwear down. His cock didn’t so much spring as emerge like a sequoia shot out of a cannon. It called to my hand, my palm reaching to wrap around the full thickness, when Ink snatched at my wrist. Before I could blink, both were pinned beside my head against the wall.

“Now, now,” he tutted, his wild hair shaking as he chastised me. “That’s not what you want.”

A primal fear zapped through me, pointing out once again that I had no idea who this man was. A man who had broken into my apartment and had me trapped against the wall. I opened my lips, an objection rising, when he crossed my arms over my chest. It left me looking like a royal mummy in a sarcophagus, my throbbing nipples swiping against my arms.

Ink yanked off my pants while I helplessly clutched at my shoulders. The man lowered to a knee as if this were a perverse proposal, his gaze on me while I struggled to breathe. Still, I couldn’t escape the raw power of his body, his muscles straining as he posed. Each line and swell begged for first my eye, my hand and my mouth. But I remained where he left me, standing only in the black thong with Witchy in green letters on the butt.

“How delightful,” he murmured, first tugging on the strap along my hips then sliding around to my ass. Ink dug his fingers in, spreading the cheeks until his tips glanced against the pucker hidden inside. A zap ripped through my body, this one sharp and focused, raising the panic that wouldn’t leave. But before he did something stupid like thrust into me without lube, Ink worried his fingers between the lace of my thong and my labia.

“Holy shit,” I cried, an ocean in my panties. Ink didn’t break eye contact with me as he pushed one thumb deep inside. Twisting his hand around, he ground the fleshy part of his thumb against my clit while straining to plumb me as far as possible. Fuck, it was lighting me up to a burning fever. My knees strained, thrusting me onto him.

He didn’t switch positions, didn’t even move, but I’d swear I could feel his thumb extending deeper into me. It filled me tight, swirling out to press against that elusive G-spot and leaving me struggling for air. If his thumb was this good, what would his mouth be like?

The free hand that’d been twisted around my underwear suddenly yanked them down. I cried in consternation as his thumb popped out, smearing my arousal down my inner thigh. An October chill glanced through my hot cunt, erupting goosebumps all across my body.

“Do not worry,” Ink whispered. He finished tugging my panties off my ankles then caressed his hands up my legs. As he touched me, he banished the goosebumps, an unearthly heat wafting from his palms.

Eyes of whiskey on fire burned up at me. He hooked his thumbs directly into the crease of my thighs and declared, “You own me.” Diving forward, he clasped his mouth to my labia.

“Fuck!” I screamed in shock.

He moved his tongue faster than a high-end vibrator. Each rapid pulse circled around my clit without touching it directly. The strong but indirect pressure sent me reeling.
I relaxed back, but Ink moved with me. He suckered around me, his cheeks sinking even more inward from the pressure. All the while, his tongue kept up its impossible dance. “Oh, oh…g—” I panted, the words jumbled as all my brain could think was yes! Yes!

My hand ruffled his hair, the thick locks tumbling between my fingers. When did I reach for him? The other was digging into his shoulder, nails clawing across his skin. And I couldn’t stop because he couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t let him stop.

What are you doing?

A voice I hadn’t heard in over ten years clawed from my subconscious to chastise me. I wanted to shout back that I was getting eaten out by a hot man, but it felt weird to say that to my mother, even if she was just a delusion brought on by guilt. The fact she’d been dead for a decade didn’t help.

“Wait,” slipped through my gritted teeth. I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted him to lick and suck on me until dawn. But some cruel sense of morality wrapped itself around my tongue and took command.

To my surprise, Ink slipped away, his naked body leaning back as he knelt. Perhaps it was the heightened near-orgasm state, but as I stared down at this supplicant man before me, he was perfect. His body looked like a thousand sculptors dedicated a hundred years to carving the ideal male form. The shoulders were strong and wide, just the right width to hang his taut but not skinny body. No, certainly not skinny. There were abs, so many abs I could probably hide a marble between them.

His waist was trim, that enviable V evident even in his crouch. But I sensed that he could ram through a wall should the need arise. And those thighs… God, I wanted to bite down onto them so hard he’d come from that alone.

The skin from his forehead to his full, throbbing cock was pristine. No moles, no scars. Funny how having a name like Ink he was without any tattoos. Shame, really.

A haze wafted before my eyes and I blinked hard. As I looked again at Ink black tats appeared as if from nowhere. They were cryptic and symmetrical. One in the near shape of a mandala rested right above his heart. A great sleeve of black filled his left arm from the shoulder down to his wrist. Most of the long tattoo was made of archaic symbols ripped from an alchemy book. In the middle, right over his biceps, was what looked like text but in a strange blocky language I’d never seen before. And the last was a heart with a dagger plunged through it.

Exactly the kind of man you don’t bring home to your dead mother. Precisely the type I wanted to fuck on my living room carpet.

And if he’s a secret serial killer?

There was that pesky moral nag again.

“Put your hands behind your back,” I said even before I had any idea what I wanted. Ink obliged, wrapping both together as he smiled at me. Did he know what I was doing?

No. I barely did.

What would even work? My bra? No, that thing cost sixty bucks on sale. The latex gloves in my pocket? Then I caught it. I’d been doing some light ‘redecorating’ for which someone who doesn’t own a hammer required two things—WD-40 and duct tape.

I grabbed the silver tape and yanked a strip free. The whipping sound sent my heart racing and I could feel Ink staring up at me. Not in concern or confusion, but pure obedience. I nearly placed the sticky tape to his wrist before I paused. He had arm hair and it would hurt coming off.

“Can I—?”

“Please,” he purred. “Your want is my dream.”

Fuck. Just hearing a man say that was a birthday wish come true. Clenching my toes, I wrapped the tape around his wrist, binding them behind his back. Three revolutions just to be sure because…because I didn’t trust him.

Bound and on his knees, all Ink could do was watch me bend over. I heard the creak of the tape, but he couldn’t break free to touch my breasts all but skimming against his chest. Good.

“I want…” My voice sputtered as I drew a finger along the heart tat on his chest. “To fuck you on your knees.”

Teeth bit down on my ear, causing me to gasp, but the pain was little more than a pinch. He whispered, “I know,” the words lingering in his wake.

God, my legs shook as I tried to straddle him. Still on my feet, I hovered my cunt a few inches above his cock. There, too, the thousand sculptors had honed their craft to a miracle. The head was thick and wide, perfectly proportioned with the long shaft sporting a raised vein for her pleasure.