“You’re always touching my feet,” she says, trying to portray a nonchalance that I can tell she doesn’t feel. “Do you have a foot fetish?”
A low chuckle escapes my lips. “Don’t kink shame. I can’t help that you have sexy little toes.”
Her eyes widen, and she sputters.
“While you do have sexy feet, I’m only joking.” I wink. “You have to lighten up, baby doll. It’s bad for your cholesterol.”
“I think you mean blood pressure.”
“That too.”
“You think I need to lighten up, but maybe you need to get a bit more serious about things.” Her eyes narrow.
Dammit.
That look sends a pulse straight to my cock.
There’s clearly something wrong with me. I like that fire behind her gaze a little too much.
Now to win her over so she’ll boss me around all over the bedroom.
The living room works too.
I’m also fond of a kitchen counter quickie.
I could bend her over, plaster her hands to the countertop, and plow into her from behind while watching her tits bounce.
Shite.
I’m starving.
Being an incubus is complicated.
I can feel her sexual desire—she’s quite fond of my outer package—but I want her to genuinely like me for me. I’ve never spent time worrying about that before, and even I’m confused why everything is so different with Hazel.
Sex is a food source.
A means to an end.
And while the activity itself is highly pleasurable, I’m beginning to crave more than just the physical side of things. That only applies to one quirky little witch, though.
An innocent air surrounds her, and that makes everything more complicated. I’m not sure if it’s sexual inexperience—which I would normally run the opposite direction from as swiftly as possible—or perhaps she’s equally unfamiliar with emotional relationships as I am.
I’ve had a lot of sex over my thousands of years of life. It’s legitimately what keeps me from wasting away, but I’ve never dated.
I think I’d like that.
With Hazel.
Some type of deep romantic connection.
An emotional bond where we look after one another in ways outside of the bedroom.
I believe I’m lonely.
The fact both of us seem to be in uncharted territory where romance is concerned means that I need to take things slow.
On the other hand, I’m literally fucking starving. The scraps I’m able to pick up from the club won’t suffice forever. At some point, my magic will take the last bits of my power and begin to amplify it to draw in willing partners. Everyone in my general vicinity who finds me attractive will start trying to fuck me.
