Page 11 of The Imp Act

She does as she’s told, and watching her play with herself is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I can see her pulse fluttering in her neck, and her breathing picks up speed as she teases her clit.

“Don’t come,” I warn. “You don’t get to do that until you’re riding my cock.”

Her head tips back on a moan, and somehow she’s managing to rock her hips against her fingers, even though we’re hovering in midair with no leverage.

“That’s enough,” I say, desperate to feel her slick heat. “Wrap your legs around my waist and slide onto my cock.”

This is where having a semi-prehensile dick comes in handy. I can aim it at her entrance and work with her. With a little wriggling, she manages to get the angle right and I push inside her.

We groan in unison.

I have to admit, while I’ve thought about it, I’ve never had sex while flying before. It takes a lot of concentration to keep my wings flapping at an even pace while my whole body is racing with pleasure, so it never seemed worth the effort.

Not until now. Not until her.

Neither one of us can move much in this position, but we both have our tricks. She flexes her inner muscles, squeezing me in a death grip that makes my eyes want to roll back, and I slowly rotate inside her, stroking her G-spot over and over.

She trembles in my arms as the pleasure builds, and her fingers drift back to where we’re joined, strumming her clit.

“That’s it,” I encourage. “Make yourself come. Let me feel how hard you can squeeze me.”

She’s tightening against me with each stroke, her pussy like a vise. Tighter, tighter…until suddenly the pressure bursts and she cries out, the orgasm pulsing through her. Her muscles are squeezing me rhythmically, milking me harder and harder, until I can’t take it. Pleasure shoots down my spine and gathers in my balls, and with a shout, I come inside her in a hot flood.

We’re both panting and shaking as I bring us down to the pool deck, where we collapse in a tangle of limbs. One orgasm wasn’t enough for me; I’m still hard and wanting. I manage to get us both on our knees, and without even breaking contact, start thrusting into her. Now that I have leverage, I can move powerfully, and she’s pushing back, meeting me stroke for stroke.

Within minutes, we’re both writhing in ecstasy, and the tingling in my spine tells me I’m about to erupt again.

“Fuck, baby,” I mutter. “You’re so fucking tight. I’m gonna come again.”

“Do it,” she pleads. “I want to feel your cock swell inside me. It gets me off.”

We’re both panting, and without further warning, my climax bursts free. Groaning and growling, I yank her hips against me and shudder my release into her. True to her word, she moans and begins to shake, her own orgasm set free by mine.

Finally, we collapse, sated…for now.

But I can’t imagine I’ll ever stop wanting her.

CHAPTER SIX

ENZO

Mrs. Grimsby is the proverbial thorn in my side. A crotchety old half-imp, she’s supposed to be our housekeeper. One Mother hired and promised would take excellent care of us. And she does her job well enough, I guess, but the issue is that herrealjob is something else: spy. Mother wants someone keeping an eye on us 24/7, which means Noelle and I never get to drop the newlywed act. Not that I particularly want to. I’m having fun. But still, it would be nice if wecould.

Still, we’ve done our best to settle into some semblance of a routine. We get up and have breakfast, then I hit the home gym or the boxing ring while she gets started on her fashion work. We meet up for lunch, then she goes back to work while I wonder what the hell I used to do with all my time. Then it’s dinner and spending the evening together, which usually entails watching a movie or premium TV.

Noelle seems to be thriving. Every so often she rushes in to get my feedback on a design, and I couldn’t be prouder. My girl has real talent, and I’ll do whatever it takes to help her launch her line. Of course, Mother has already complained to me about Noelle working. In her opinion, Noelle should be a bored, richhousewife devoted to all the same charities my mother supports. And sure, Noelle supports charity in her own way, but she’s not about to give up her career to sit on a bunch of fundraising committees.

Something Mother bitches about at every chance. I’m at our family’s corporate headquarters today, debating whether I want to take on a job here. Honestly, maybeIshould be the one to join a bunch of committees. I have the free time. But something about coasting along on my family’s money makes the place between my wings itch. Which is why I’m not wildly eager to start a job here, either. I’m sure I’d be ensconced in some spacious office with an executive assistant who could do all my work, leaving my business degree for show. Nah, that’s not for me.

I’m thirty-two, I’m married, and I need to grow up. So okay, I’ll agree to work here, for the experience, but only until I can find something else. Something meaningful. Something I can feel passionate about, the way Noelle does with her designs. Decision made, I’m about to head out when my mother appears from behind a closed office door, her heels clacking on the hardwood of the quiet hall.

“Enzo, how nice to see you here. Have you finally decided to claim your position in the company?”

I nod. “I think so. For now, anyway. I have a lot of free time I don’t know what to do with. Might as well work.”

She looks delighted, a rare sight. “That’s wonderful. And with you working, Noelle will be able to step away from her silly fashion thing and help with my committees.”

Great. Here we go again. I run a hand through my hair with a sigh. “Uh, well, no. Her fashion career is very important to her. She won’t stop working on it just because I’m doing…somethinghere.”

---