Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Annoying but hot, whispered a traitorous little voice in my head as I watched him from the corner of my eye. I couldn’t help admiring the way the firelight shone on the golden-red skin of the Demon’s muscular body. And if that shadow I saw between his legs was any indication, he really might give a Centaur or a Minotaur some serious competition in the size department.
But my perusal hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“Admit it—you like what you see. You want me to fulfill your deepest fantasy—that’s why your Great Aunt left me to you,” he rumbled, giving me a half-lidded look that seemed to promise all kinds of erotic acts no other man had ever offered me.
“Are you reading my mind?” I demanded, glaring at him.
“I don’t have to read your mind—your thoughts are clearly written on your lovely face,” he murmured.
Which wasn’t exactly an answer.
“Look, I don’t care why Great Aunt Gertrude left you to me, the fact is I don’t want you here,” I said impatiently.
“That’s too bad—I can’t leave until I fulfill the terms of the wish your many times great grandmother, Hester Hatch, made centuries ago,” he said firmly. “I am tied to the women of your bloodline—I cannot be free until I give you what you so desperately need.”
“I’m not desperate for anyone!” I snapped, offended. “Least of all some gigolo Demon who’s been spying on me from a painting!”
“Please, I’m an Incubus,” he corrected me again.
I threw up my hands in frustration.
“Demon, Incubus—what’s the difference?”
“The difference is, I am several steps above a lowly Demon,” he said, sounding slightly offended. “I am a specialist. Only a witch with considerable power can summon me.”
“I’m just a Kitchen Witch,” I pointed out. “I make pastries and run a bakery—that’s pretty much it.”
“You may be ‘just a Kitchen Witch’ but you have the whole town in your thrall,” he said, smiling. “They all come flocking to your bakery for your delicious pastries just as they flocked to your birthday party tonight.”
“How do you know that?” I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously. “You shouldn’t know any of that if I just woke you up a little while ago.”
“I learned it when I was pleasuring you.” His eyes went half-lidded again. “You’re so sensitive—you reacted beautifully to my touch.”
I could feel my cheeks getting hot with mortification.
“I thought I was having a dream,” I said stiffly. “So are you saying you can read my mind?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“Only when I’m touching you,” he admitted. “Mind reading is one of an Incubus’s most valuable skills.”
“What? Why is that?” I asked, curious despite myself.
He shrugged.
“Isn’t it obvious? A mortal male doesn’t know what you want in bed unless you spell it out for him—and even then he’s more than likely to get it wrong. Whereas when I touch you, I can tell what you’re hungry for—what you crave.”
“You…you can?” I asked through numb lips. God, I wished he wasn’t so mouthwatering sitting there nude and muscular in my bed!
“Mmm-hmm.” He nodded and leaned towards me, the firelight reflected in his black eyes. “And I can give it to you, baby—whether it’s a hard fuck or a long, leisurely lovemaking session where you come over and over and cry in my arms from the intense release afterwards,” he murmured, giving me another one of those lustful looks. “Or maybe you just want your pussy licked for hours on end—I can do that for you too.” His eyes blazed. “I love it—love to worship the female body with all its lovely curves. Especially fuller curves like yours.” He described an overfull hourglass in the air between us as he looked me up and down.
I pulled the top of my nightgown closed and leaned away from him but my heart was pounding. He had just given me the most intense orgasm of my life and yet here I was, hot to trot—as Goldie would say—all over again!
“Don’t talk like that—I don’t even know you,” I protested.
“But I know you, Celia. I know what you’re craving—why don’t you let me give it to you?” he murmured.
“Because I don’t have sex with strangers!” I snapped. “And besides, I’m not craving anything like…like that.”
“Please. Don’t lie to me or yourself.” He shook his head. “Your lust perfumes the air between us and I saw the way you touched yourself earlier—saw the way you fucked yourself with that toy of yours.”
His voice was a low, sexy rasp and his eyes were blazing again—challenging me to deny what he was saying.
I was torn between mortification and lust, which was creeping up on me even though I didn’t want to feel it.
“You weren’t supposed to see that,” I said. “I didn’t know you were watching!”
“You can tell yourself that, but you know it’s not true. And until you give in and let me fulfill your fantasy we won’t be free of each other,” he pointed out. “So why not lay back and let me worship your body in the way you deserve? I bet no other male has ever truly given you your due.”