Itt all shatters down the middle and rains painful pleasure through me on pulsing waves that clench around him, even as I continue to ride his cock on uneven thrusts until the feeling drifts into slow washing waves.
A slamming sound hits just near my head and his whole body tenses, holding me to him like he’s never going to let me go, even as pieces of the wall crumble down into little chunks of rock on the dark stone floor. He holds himself up with one hand pounded into the wall, while still holding me to him in the most gentle way as his release trembles through every inch of his rigid body.
His dick throbs hard within me, making me shift even more against him, which only makes him groan a torturous, sensual growl.
My fingers slide down the sharp angles of his face while his temple settles firmly against my shoulder, his body a solid mass of locked muscles.
It’s the strangest feeling of being completely calm and safe in this soulless demon’s arms. The warmth of his breath fans over my damp skin, and he never pulls back from me. He lets me ghost across his perfect skin with the slightest touch of my fingers along his jaw.
“When I met you,” his tone crawls over the walls like a dark shadow finding its place, “I never would have pictured us like this, Feck.” Warm lips press to the side of my throat in a confusingly affectionate way.
“I hate when you call me that.”
His head lifts and he just stares at me for a long, long moment, his irises safely back to that warm pine color again. “Tell me what you really are and I’ll stop calling you a feck.”
My heart sinks but I can’t seem to stop touching him.
Even in my dreams he’s an asshole.
“If I knew what I was, I’d tell you,” I whisper quietly, sadness tightening my tone despite how hard I swallow the feeling down.
Pain slips into his gaze for a single second and I can’t stop myself from telling him even more.
“If you knew what I’m capable of, you wouldn’t be holding me like this, that’s for sure.” I lean forward just because nothing is real right now and I’ll be damned if I’m not going to take advantage of it.
I nip at his lower lip, uncertainty still pulling at his features, but he kisses me back anyway, his palms lowering to fully grip my ass again.
“Why do you say that, Iz? I can’t imagine not wanting your sinfully sexy body wrapped around mine for any reason,” he rasps, his tongue teasing mine slowly.
His obliviousness hurts my heart.
I press the sweetest kiss to that foul mouth of his. “The last man who fucked me got ripped apart by the monster who lives inside this sinfully sexy body.” I pause on that thought and he pulls back from my lips slowly at first, and then fully, sliding me down his hard, naked body until my feet gently touch the ground.
That’s a good reaction from dream Phoenix. Smart. He’s a smart incubus.
But this is my dream. And I need to get the most of it before I wake up to that gym class reality where my adoring boyfriend hates my guts and my classmates want to kill me simply for existing.
My fingers slide through his fiery hair and I push at the back of his head.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he asks, his eyes big with a bit of worry for the first time since I met the cocky demon.
“No one’s ever given me head before. I’m trying to subtly get you to go down on me. Is it working?” I ask with a small smile tilting my lips.
“By shoving my head down to your pussy, no. Your subtly sucks, Feck.”
A small smirk pulls at my lips and he really is attractive when his asshole gene doesn’t sneak up on you.
“Ask me nicely, and maybe you’ll get your way,” he whispers across my parted lips, my head tipping up to him even as he keeps space firmly planted between us. Slow, hinting touches skim up and down my sides, his fingers trailing all over my body while he waits for my reply.
He’s either a powerful incubus or a total idiot for still touching me after what I told him about my past.
Maybe he’s a powerful idiot.
“Please?” I nearly kiss him, but he never lets my lips press to his.
“Please what, baby?”
My insides tangle with a wash of heat and desire.
“Please fuck me with that sinful mouth of yours.” I arch up against him and his body never moves an inch closer even as I work my mouth along his, his tongue showing my pussy exactly what it’s missing while he kisses me so hard I whimper against his lips.
I trust him for some weird reason.
And he must trust me.
Because his head dips lower and lower and lower.
And this sweet soulless incubus spends the rest of the long, dark night keeping me company in the best way possible.
Nine
Saint
He’s... smiling. In his sleep.
It’s... unsettling.
In the last two decades that I’ve known Phoenix Rutherford, he’s never shown as much emotion as he is right now and I know exactly why.
He’s dreaming of her.
Is he with her right now? Is he using his demon magic to slice into the veil of her subconscious?
If he is, he has me to thank for that, fuck you very much. I knew this would happen. I don’t know what is living inside Izara Castillo, but I can feel it. The darkness of it, the power, it feels just like Phoenix. I don’t think she’s a succubus or any other kind of lower demon because something like that isn’t as quiet and patient as what she is. But they’re similar in some way. Maybe she’s a hellion with fire coursing through her veins blessed by the devil himself.
She’s not a feck. That’s for sure.
No feck could make a soulless like Phoenix feel whatever he’s feeling right now. Emotions just aren’t in him. There’s a void inside this man, and she’s somehow torn it away and found some fucking happiness in him.
Or lust. Or both.
The smile on his lips shifts, his fiery brows pulling low, his lips parting with a shaking breath that I can almost feel even from across the room right now.
Shit.
What is that innocent girl making my demon feel right now?
His teeth grind together with the lowest groan rumbling through his chest, his fingers arching into his palms like he’s filling his hands with... her ass.
I sit up straighter in my bed, glancing to the wolf sleeping on the top bunk across from me before peering back down at the main show currently holding all of my attention.
My dick hardens almost painfully with the next rasping sound that crawls up his throat. A shift of the curtains wafts when I move so fast a sound never even registers in the silent room. That strong, thick throat of his offers up as his head tips back into his tattered pillow.
And then... the hardness of his cock beneath the sheet pulses as dampness seeps through.
“Holy, fucking feck,” I whisper with wide eyes held on his thickness that’s still throbbing while his groan echoes around the room.
I’ve never in my life seen Phoenix actually feel anything during sex before. And I’ve fucked him first hand.
Nothing.
It’s like the emptiness in his heart is just a deep bottomless hole and no matter how many emotions you try to fill it with, it’s never enough for him to truly feel anything but hate.
It’s the only thing in the world that makes me believe there’s a god like my mother says.