Page 65 of Oh No! There's an Incubus in my Hot Spring
The rest of the meal progresses with good wine, great steaks, and even better ideas. I’m fighting to keep pace with our rapid-fire back and forth and get a few bites of my meal in. By the end of the night, I’m thoroughly giggled out and ready to let my incubus boy friend slowly undress me.
seventeen
Scintillating Sensations
We wave farewell to Leonard and then part ways in the parking lot with a promise of many more meetings to discuss awesome ideas, how many hours she’ll work, and her responsibilities. The drive home is all caramel and chocolate scents blending with anticipation.
It’s dark when I open the door to the apartment, and when I turn to lock the door, Apollo pounces. His hands slide over my hips to my waist, and he nuzzles my neck.
“Were you thinking about me undressing you on the way home?” he asks in a deep purr.
“I was, but after this dessert,” I say, holding up the bag securing the caramel chocolate cake.
He takes the bag and sets it on the end table next to the door. “I thinkmydessert needs attention first.”
His hands slide over my thighs and then he cups me tightly with one as the other roves farther up my stomach, grazing under my breast. I cover his hands with mine, loving how much bigger and stronger they are. It’s easy to lean back into him and moan, adoring the affection after being denied it for so long.
“But the ice cream will melt,” I say, staring up at the moon through the glass ceiling.
Apollo groans and cups my breast, squeezing just hard enough to make me squirm. “Then we’ll put it in the freezer.”
“And the cake. It’s hot and fresh, and, oh—” I gasp as his teeth graze the sensitive skin at the nape of my neck.
“We can put it on the stove to warm it up,” he says. His hand is between my legs, making tight circles at my core. I want this more than I want the cake, but his insistence is delightful. Any other man would’ve given up by now.
“The caramel sauce,” I whimper. “It’ll…drip.”
“You’redripping,” he whispers in a low timbre as he gathers the material of my dress at my thigh. “I feel how much you want this—need this. Let me take a moment with you first, and then we’ll have your cake.”
“But, cake,” I whine, urging him on, testing him without even meaning to.
His tail snags the handles of the bag, pulling it down to reveal the container that he opens with his other hand. “Fine. A taste for a taste,” he says as he dips his fingers into the caramel.
His other hand sneaks under my panties, dragging two fingers through my arousal before making a tight circle at my clit. I plant my hands on the door in front of me for stability. He holds his sticky, caramel-sweet fingers to my lips and traces the bottom one, coating it.
“Taste,” he whispers.
I lick my bottom lip and he circles my clit faster before dipping down into me again. I tremble at the concoction of sensationsrunning through me. Pleasure in two different forms short-circuiting my brain. I make an undignified noise as he pumps into me and pulls on my G-spot.
He drags his fingers out, holding my dress up with his spade-shaped tail tip, then puts his slick fingers in his mouth and sucks. He groans into my hair as his fingers pop free from his lips. “My dessert is better, for certain.”
“You can’t know that until you’ve tried both,” I say on a shaky breath.
“Trust me, I know.”
He dips his caramel-coated hand back into the cake, getting a smear of vanilla ice cream next. I pant heavily as his other hand coasts against my inner thigh. His tail hooks on the crotch of my panties and pulls them aside as his fingers dive back into me.
My knees buckle and I throw my head back on his shoulder. He paints my lips with the melting ice cream.
“Taste, lovely,” he whispers in my ear like an angel as his other hand commits a delirious sin.
I pull my lips in, licking both of them and getting remnants of sweet caramel with the vanilla bean cream. He slides out of me, giving my clit ample attention before sucking his fingers again.
“Do you want more?”
I’m not sure if he’s asking about my dessert or his, but the answer is the same. “Yes, please.”
He slides his fingers across our once-pretty dessert, and I open my mouth. I reach out with my tongue and pull his fingers in, sucking on him. I swirl my tongue across his blunted nails and smooth knuckles, smearing the sweet sauce. I come around to the pads of his fingers, and then slide between them.
