Page 30
Story: Accidentally Vacationed with an Incubus (Briar Coven #2)
My tongue moved on instinct, desperate and greedy, as if my very soul had been waiting for the taste of Jen my entire life.
The world beyond her faded, a distant hum swallowed by the sound of her breathless moans, by the way her body arched and offered itself to me with every flick and stroke of my tongue.
But with every lick, an ache bloomed deep in my chest.
This won’t last forever. Jen is going to move on. She’ll return to her coven, reclaim her life ...
... and I’d be expected to do the same.
Except now that I’d tasted her, now that I’d felt her, I knew I wouldn’t be able to.
“You have no idea how good you taste,” I rasped, my voice wrecked with hunger before I dragged my tongue through her again, starving for more. I swirled, dipped, flicked, determined to have all of her in case this was the only time—I couldn’t finish the thought.
The way she squirmed beneath me, responding to me, had my own need tightening into something unbearable. My balls ached, my cock throbbed, desperate for release. Desperate for her.
“Come with me,” I pleaded, sucking her swollen clit into my mouth, teasing it with the firm, wet pressure of my tongue.
The moment I’d let my senses flood back in, the moment I’d scented her undiluted amber and jasmine arousal, it had already been fucking inevitable. Just her pleasure alone was going to have me coming in my pants.
Her body tensed, that first, perfect flutter of release starting to pulse around me, seeping into me, filling me.
Her hands clasped around the base of my horns, pulling me deeper into her and holding me in place.
My entire body seized as she pulled my tongue harder against her, forcing me to take every last drop of her pleasure. “Devlin!” she cried out.
Pride swelled inside me, molten and brutal.
It was my name on her lips.
Not Kieran’s.
Not some stranger’s in a bar.
Mine .
Heat coiled in my gut, surging lower. Pleasure ripped through me—shuddering, violent and beyond my control.
I came hard enough that my vision blurred, my cock pulsing in the confines of my pants as her orgasm dragged me under with her.
Her pleasure was like ambrosia, pouring into me, feeding me in a way I had never experienced before.
I wanted to drown in her. To taste her again, and again, to make her scream my name until her voice was hoarse.
But then a small, involuntary tremble rippled through her limbs, and my hazy, pleasure-drunk mind snapped back into focus.
Goosebumps prickled over her flushed skin. She was cold.
My fault—I’d shredded her dress, stripped her bare beneath the open night air, so fucking lost in my hunger. My need for her was suddenly overpowered by something stronger. The urge to take care of her. To protect her.
My shadows peeled back from my body, retracting as I leaned up, pressing a lingering kiss against the soft curve of her belly.
I felt deep grooves beneath my fingers where my talons had punched through the blanket, grounding me as I feasted on her. Slowly, I unclenched my grip, releasing the fabric.
I never wanted this to end.
And yet, as I wrapped my arms around her, I already felt the night slipping through my fingers.
“We should head back,” I murmured, pulling off my shirt.
Jen gave a soft, absent hum in response, her gaze still dazed, her body languid as she weakly sat up.
What was left of her shredded dress slipped from her shoulders, the fabric pooling around her.
I crouched beside her, wrapping my shirt around her bare skin, taking my time as I rolled up the sleeves and carefully buttoned the front.
Jen’s eyes drifted downward, and I caught the exact moment she saw the damp patch on my pants.
Her cheeks flushed—that deep, beautiful pink that I’d already come to crave—and I made no move to cover the evidence of just how much I’d enjoyed being between her legs.
I’d thought I’d fucked up when I tried to explain that I didn’t enjoy sex. That for me, it had always been about survival, something necessary but never something fulfilling. That the next time I was intimate with someone, it would be because I wanted to, not because I had to.
And—fuck—I wanted her to know.
I wanted her to see what she’d done to me. That being with her had been the first time I’d ever felt pure, unfiltered pleasure—pleasure that had nothing to do with feeding.
That I was choosing her.
I hooked a finger under her chin, tilting her face up to meet my gaze.
Her lips were kiss-swollen, her pupils still dilated with the remnants of pleasure.
I wanted to tell her that she was perfect. That she was the only partner I’d ever enjoyed being intimate with... more than enjoyed. That she was funny and brilliant and made me feel like I was finally settling into my own skin... like I wasn’t just some incubus surviving off scraps of desire.
That I was falling for her.
But saying any of that out loud would only complicate things. She already had too much on her plate—too much to figure out, too much to heal from. The last thing she needed was a pining, love-sick incubus making things harder. So instead, I pressed my lips to hers and lingered there.
A plea for more, even if I couldn’t say it.
I pulled back just enough to brush my nose against hers. “C’mon, little witch. Let’s get you home.”
***
I woke to an irate BooDini hovering at the foot of my bed, clutching the ruined blanket in one hand while the other pointed accusingly at the deep gouge marks scarring the fabric.
“Morning,” I mumbled, stretching my arms above my head, my body languid from the best sleep of my entire existence.
BooDini ruffled its sheets, vibrating with silent judgment.
“Sorry, BooDini,” I said with an unbothered sigh.
But BooDini wasn’t having it. It flapped the blanket dramatically, demanding an explanation.
A slow, dreamy grin spread across my lips as my mind conjured the memory of Jen—bare, flushed, trembling beneath me.
“I got a little... carried away last night,” I admitted, my voice still thick with sleep and satisfaction.
BooDini froze. Its cutout eyes narrowed in deep suspicion before it slowly turned back to the ruined blanket, tilting its head in silent contemplation.
I could see the dots connecting.
Its eyes widened. A sheeted hand flew to where a mouth should be. And then BooDini, holding the blanket at a distance, glided out of the room at a speed that suggested either sheer embarrassment or overwhelming glee.
I chuckled, shaking my head.
“What’s up with BooDini?” I turned at the sound of Jen’s voice, finding her head poking from around the doorframe, her hair a wild mess from sleep, wearing nothing but my oversized shirt.
And just like that, I was fucking ruined all over again.
My breath hitched at the sight of her, my body reacting on instinct—a flood of desire and need coursing through my veins.
Jen, bare-legged and still wearing my shirt like she belonged in it.
Fuck .
I’d wanted to spend the night with her. Wanted to wrap my arms around her, pull her against me, and fall asleep to the scent of her lingering desire.
But I hadn’t trusted myself. Not when the mere thought of her had me aching with the need to bury my face between her legs again and make her scream my name until sunrise.
And definitely not when I had barely resisted the urge to blurt out “I think I love you.”
So instead, I’d left her at her bedroom door, pressing a lingering, torturous kiss to her lips before forcing myself to walk away.
Now, she stood there, bathed in morning light, looking so effortlessly perfect. I cleared my throat, sitting up in bed. “BooDini was just chastising me for tearing the blanket.”
Jen’s face softened, her pupils dilating slightly, the sharp scent of her desire slipping into the air, brief, but enough to make my mouth water, my dick throbbing in response.
But before I could do something stupid, her expression shifted, determination overriding desire.
“Do you still want to go to the Cadmuses’ to help out?” she asked.
I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling hard. “Yeah,” I said. “Just let me get changed.”
As I tugged my T-shirt over my head, Jen pulled out an ancient phone from the top pocket of my shirt, her fingers tapping at the screen with awkward hesitation.
“Do you think it would be weird if Brooke came over this evening?” she asked. “She said she has something important to ask me.”
I frowned. “Who?”
Jen scoffed, folding her arms. “Brooke? Beautiful water nymph who proposed to you, like, two nights ago?”
In my defense, I’d been too distracted at the time—watching Jen, my thoughts consumed with jealousy as a hulking, absurdly handsome orc had slid into my seat and started a conversation with her.
Unfettered rage tinged with jealousy flooded my veins at the thought of Rowan.
But Brooke? I barely remembered what she looked like, let alone her offer of marriage. I mean, she was nice and all. But Jen had been sitting just over her shoulder...
I shrugged, stuffing my arms through my sleeves. “She’s your friend, Jen. You should invite her around.”
Jen’s eyes narrowed, suspicion flashing in her gaze just as a sharp tang hit the air, like the metallic scent of holding a coin too long.
She was jealous.
Heat cracked up my spine like a whip, my heart swelling at the thought that Jen might just be experiencing the same emotions that had been twisting inside me every time I thought of her with someone else.
“You don’t think it would be a bit weird?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral, as if her only concern was for my comfort.
I finished buckling my belt, letting the moment stretch before I slowly made my way over to her. Jen’s breath hitched the second I pinned her against the wall, one hand flat above her head, the other tilting her chin up with a teasing touch. The scent of amber and jasmine billowed from her.
“Are you jealous, my little witch?” I murmured, my voice dropping to a low, deliberate rumble.
Table of Contents
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- Page 30 (Reading here)
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