Page 69 of The Succubi's Choice

“Say the word if you need to leave,” he whispers, so close to her ear she can feel the warmth of his breath. “Say the word and we will be out of here.” A hand, soothing, against her injured arm. “Or tap something, anything, with this hand five times —" he demonstrates, a quick tap of his fingers, almost a nervous twitch — “and I will be there.”

She nods, not quite trusting her voice.

“People will approach, if you do not want to go with them, you do not have to.”

She turns and faces him, and, unsurprisingly, his face is fully serious, somber. “Why would I ever say no?” She whispers back, her voice breathy, and it’s hard to speak, hard to think.

He inclines his head, as if conceding the point, before he tracks someone behind her.

“Thomas,” a woman’s voice, just on this side of familiar, says, “you’ve never brought someone before.”

Miri glances behind her, and a tall, striking woman stands in front of her, dressed in a deep sage power suit. Her face sticks in her mind, like she is almost someone Miri should know. Like a TV anchor of a place she once lived. Her hair is rich, black, and falls over her shoulders like a shimmering waterfall, and Miri aches to wind her hand up in it.

Behind her, a handsome man with salt and pepper hair stands, and his suit is cut tightly, on this edge of obscene. The buttons strain at the fabric of the shirt with every breath, and it’s hard for her to look away. Like every motion shows muscle and hints at the flesh beneath it.

Still keeping the grounding hand on her back, Not-Thomas leans over her and kisses the woman on the cheek. “Olivia, Rich, always a pleasure, this is my friend Miri, from out of town.”

The woman returns the kiss, then looks down at Miri from where she towers over her, appraisal in her eyes. An appraisal that straightens Miri’s spine and draws her forward.

“Can we play with your pet, Thomas?” The woman, Olivia, asks, as if it that’s a common statement.

With a flicker of a glance to her, he answers, “She decides who she plays with tonight.”

“What would you do to me?” Miri asks, her chest tight, like there’s not enough air in the room to be had.

There’s a hint of a curved smile on the woman’s face, as the appraisal intensifies. Like she’s trying to read Miri’s mind, and find out her experience and what she is willing to do.

“I want my husband to fuck you,” she says, reaching out a well-manicured hand and tilting Miri’s chin towards her, electrifying all her nerves. “And I want to watch, and I want to touch.” She glances up at Not-Thomas, as if still waiting for his approval, but her eyes are back on Miri within a second.

And that’s the moment. Where she has to say yes, or say no, and miss out on this experience for the rest of her life, and —

“Yes,” she blurts out, her heart pounding. “Yes, I want that.”

Before she can even breathe again, Olivia grips her chin, bringing her lips to Miri’s with a crushing, bruising force, pushing her lips open. She surges forward with an open-mouthed moan, the suit fabric rough against Miri’s skin, and she tangles her other hand into Miri’s curls.

Miri whimpers, and Olivia bites down on her lip, gentle, before pulling away with a smile.

“Are you shy?” She asks, and her husband’s hand plays with the strap on Miri’s dress. “Are you okay with right here?”

Miri glances up at the Archdemon for a split second, almost out of instinct or something unclear. “If it’s okay, I’m okay,” she says, loathing the hesitation coming from her voice.

He nods, stepping aside, back to looking vaguely amused. He settles into the couch area, still within arm’s reach, but far enough to make it clear that he’s not participating.

Her husband, Rich’s, hand slides up her hips, dragging the short skirt up over her ass, and she feel him sigh, pressed against her back. “She’s perfect,” he murmurs, so quiet Miri can barely hear. “Olivia, she’s perfect.” Slow, too slow, he teases her panties down her ass, so she feels every scrape of fabric across her skin.

He sits down, pulling her down so she’s perched on his lap, running a hand up and down her side. It’s almost ticklish, over the satiny fabric.

Olivia stands in front of them, a hand caressing the side of Miri’s face. “You’re very pretty to be in here,” she says, which is bullshit—every person Miri has seen has been objectively gorgeous. “Where did you come from?”

It’s hard to breathe, and Olivia takes that and kisses her, this time gentle and sweet. Her hands fall to her shoulders, pushing down the straps of Miri’s dress, exposing her breasts to the slightly cool air.

Olivia’s lips form an ‘O,’ and, gentle, ever so gentle, she caresses Miri, fingertips over her nipples, until Miri sits up straighter, arching her back into it. “You are darling, aren’t you,” she says, as her husband places a kiss right where Miri’s neck meets her shoulder. “If I had known Thomas had friends like you, I would invite him to many more parties.”

By the quirk of his smile, Not-Thomas heard that.

Miri opens her mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a small, strangled sigh, her entire body alight. Olivia cups her breasts, her eyes hooded, before nodding at Rich.

He unzips himself, pulling out his dick with a strong, sure motion, and Miri’s breath hitches once more. He’s large, almost intimidatingly so, and all she wants is to reach out touch all of him, until she’s the one making him weep with want.

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