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)
As a matter of fact, he was right about that. I’d never had a lover who was really eager to go down on me or give me pleasure. Maybe because trying to find the right guy when you’re plus-sized is like dating on hard mode. I’d met plenty of men who would have been happy just to use my body for their own gratification…but none that were very interested in mine.
But this Demon—this Incubus—was telling me that he was all about my gratification—all about giving me pleasure in any way I wanted it. Malik didn’t seem to mind that I was curvy—in fact he seemed to like it.
I couldn’t help remembering how good it felt when he touched me…the hot swirl of his tongue around my sensitive nipples and the expert way he’d stroked my pussy, circling my clit in a way that drove me crazy, touching me just the right way…
No, what was I thinking? He was getting to me—I couldn’t let that happen!
“Absolutely not,” I said firmly. “In fact, I want you to get dressed and leave right now.”
He sighed.
“So you’re going to make this difficult for both of us? All right. I can get dressed but I can’t leave—not until I fulfill your fantasy and Hester’s wish.”
“What did she wish for, anyway?” I demanded. I had never given much thought to my ancestress. All I knew was that she was a Kitchen Witch like me and that she’d been hung during the Witch Fever that had swept New England back in the 1600s.
“I can show you, if you like,” he offered. “Maybe if you see her and what happened to her you’ll finally understand why I’m bound to your family.”
“How can you show me?” I asked suspiciously. “Do you have to transport me back in time or something?” I wasn’t eager to travel to the 1600s—especially not dressed in my sheer silk nightgown. I’d been to several museums in Salem that convinced me life was dirty, dark, and dismal back then. Also, they treated women like dirt. No thank you!
But Malik only laughed.
“Hardly. My powers don’t extend quite that far. I can’t take you back in time but I can show you what I saw…and what happened to Hester, your ancestress.”
“Well…” I hesitated but it didn’t seem like I was getting rid of him any time soon. Maybe if I had more information, I’d have a better chance of banishing him from my life. “All right,” I said at last. “How do you do it?”
“Just hold my hand and I’ll show you.” He held out a large, well-shaped hand but I pulled back.
“First put on some clothes,” I told him. I had a strange feeling that if I touched him, the lust I was feeling would overcome me and I might try to jump his demonic bones. I needed some barriers between us so that couldn’t happen.
He sighed again.
“Very well. But not the suit I wore in the painting—it’s horribly uncomfortable and I was wearing it for centuries.”
“I thought you were asleep,” I said suspiciously.
“I was dozing,” he said. “I didn’t fully awaken until you touched me. And gave me your blood and turned my portrait towards the North, fulfilling the first part of the spell and allowing me to leave my prison of glass.”
“But I never…” I trailed off, remembering how I had cut my finger on the broken glass and left a smear of blood on the portrait. And apparently turning his picture towards the wall had been turning it towards the North. Damn it, I needed to invest in a compass or at least be more careful around strange magic!
“Here—what about this?” He snapped his fingers and suddenly he was wearing a different kind of suit. It was an expensive tailored one that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a billionaire on the cover of a romance novel. It was black with a crisp white Egyptian cotton shirt and a maroon tie. Diamond cufflinks glinted at his wrists and the scent of expensive cologne, mixed with his aroma of smoke and spice, filled my senses.
What is it about a man in a suit? My mind was suddenly filled with fantasies of calling him “Sir” and having him bend me over his knee to “punish” me with a spanking because I had been a “bad girl.”
I shook my head, trying to drive the illicit images away. I just hoped he couldn’t read my mind when we weren’t touching. But I couldn’t stop staring at him.
“Wow,” I murmured, rendered temporarily speechless—or at least monosyllabic.
“Thank you.” He flashed me a gleaming grin. “That’s a most gratifying reaction. Now, will you allow me to show you the fate of your ancestress all those many years ago?”
He held out his hand again and this time, reluctantly, I took it.