Page 68 of Lustling

It is not a lie. I missed every angle of her—how she fires me up, how she dares me, how she will gladly ruin me while asking me to worship her at the same time. Twenty-four hours away was an impossible exile; I have not fed since. So, I let her enjoy whatever flavor she wants tonight, play her games and then pay the toll.

She wraps herself around me and the room reduces to skin and breath. The woman under her cries out—Bastion bending her back to take what he wants, voice low and rough as he drives.Lillien gasps around me and the surge of her pleasure winds through me; her power is a tide that bulks in my bones.

Her throat opens for my cock, letting me thrust deeper, burying my entire length into her mouth with a groan. She doesn’t take her eyes off me, and I don’t want her to.

Then she pulls on the bond.

It is a sharp, cruel tug—intentional and delicious. Succubus power wielded like a blade at my throat. Pleasure detonates in me as if someone struck a match against my spine. I curse, fingers tangling in her hair as the world dissolves into a hot, terrible white. My release hits and I come hard, breath ripping from me, the sensation ripping through until I am raw and open.

“Fuck, Lustling.” My voice is rough, strained. “I’m not used to someone being able to force me to come.”

Her mouth swallows me clean and she licks the edge of my cock, an act that is both claim and salve. “You better get used to it,” she says, smug and terrible.

I push the other woman away with a careless hand, not even nodding at her as I haul Lillien upright and into my arms. She giggles, and the sound is a bell against the coppered aftermath of what just passed between us.

“You’re mine,” I growl into her mouth, carrying her toward my room. Her arms lock around my neck and the world tilts into a private orbit where only our hunger lives.

Tonight, I’m going to fucking remind her.

THIRTY-EIGHT

Deimos carries me through the apartment like he’s taking a trophy. His grip on me is possessive and absolute, chest warm against my back, his scent curling into the shape of him—smoke, spice, and something that tastes older than sin. The door slams behind us and for a second the rest of the world is cut away.

Then he drops me onto the mattress. I bounce, breath hitching, propping myself on my elbows and looking up. He stands at the edge of the bed, shoulders rolling, golden skin glowing in the dim light.

His cock is still hard—or hard again, I’m not sure—but he doesn’t move to touch me yet. He just watches. He hunts.

I stretch out, like an offering. “You just going to stare, or are you going to do something?” I tease.

His mouth curls, eyes unreadable and dark. He reaches down and drags a fingertip along the inside of my ankle—featherlight, and it launches fire up my leg.

“Jealous?” I bait.

His eyes flash something close to amusement. “No.” Then his hand is on my ankle and he yanks me to the edge of the bed, legs swinging. I gasp and he chuckles low, kneeling in front of me.

“I don’t get jealous,” he murmurs. “But I do get possessive. And you’ve been acting out, Lustling,” he murmurs, his hands everywhere, palms sliding up my thighs, nails bright against sensitive skin. He’s near me, not yet where I want him, and the tease is a slow, delicious cruelty. "Flaunting yourself, playing your little games."

“Deimos—”

“Shh.” He presses a finger softly to my lips, then trails it down my throat, over my chest and along my stomach. He avoids the place I want most with a willful deliberateness.

“You’re teasing me.” My voice comes out thick.

“You tease me all the time,” he answers, tracing lazy circles at my hips. “Seems only fair.”

His hand dips lower, parting me with the airy brush of fingers that do not yet dive in. Instinct arches me toward friction; he pulls away every time the ache crescendos.

“Please,” I beg.

He tilts his head, a slow predator’s question. “Please what?”

“Deimos—”

A slap lands, sharp and hot on the inside of my thigh. Pain and pleasure shoot straight to my core as I moan and his smile deepens. “Try again, Lustling.”

I swallow the last of my pride, hating how much I actually love it. “Please, Deimos. Touch me.”

A low approving rumble vibrates his chest. “Good girl.”