Page 15 of Oh No! There's an Incubus in my Hot Spring
“Ah-ah,” he chastises, running his finger over my lip. “No shame.”
“Can you read my mind?” I ask.
“No, but I can feel your emotions. They’re as plain to me as the look in your eyes and the way your body responds to my touch.”
Fuck, he did notice.
“Pleasure does not always come from sexual stimulation,” he says. “And even if you did want an orgasm, you’re too tense to accept one from me.”
Isn’t that the truth. Why didn’t Jason ever understand that?
“Then, what do you suggest?”
He takes a step forward, the water parting around his hips and making little whirlpools at his sides. “Allow me to massage your back.”
“Just a massage?” I ask, tightening my arms over my chest.
“That’s all, unless you want more,” he says, his voice a seductive promise that I will indeed want more.
“Okay.” I turn away from him and look at the glass door into the building.
I hear him move behind me and see his reflection through the mist.
“I’m going to touch you,” he says, just before his warm hands fall on my shoulders. I watch as his nails shrink, receding into his fingers, until they’re blunt like mine.
“Sit back in the water more. It will help,” he says, tugging on me gently.
He guides us to the edge of the pool and sits on the bench, then pulls me down onto his lap. He keeps a respectable distance between his groin and mine, balancing me on his knees. He’s so much bigger than me, I almost feel like a child.
His thumbs press into my upper back and he circles my tight muscles, enticing me to unfurl before him. Each stroke he goes a little harder, until I’m struggling to stay quiet, struggling to stay upright instead of leaning into him.
He works his way up to my neck and I drop my head forward with a groan.
“That’s a good witch,” he murmurs.
“Sylvia.”
“What’s that, lovely?”
“My name,” I say, hoping I didn’t just make a huge mistake.
“It’s a beautiful name. Sylvanus, nymph of the woods…you’re right at home here,” he says, digging his fingers into the tight knots along my upper back.
This demon has magical fingers.
“What’s your name?” I ask, leaning back deeper into the water to let the heat and the massage work together.
“I’ve been called many things throughout the ages.”
“But do you have a given name, from your parents? Or, uh, creator?” I ask.
Are demons born?
“My creator did name me, but it can’t be replicated by a human mouth.”
“I see.”
My upper back hits his chest and I jerk forward. “Sorry.”
