Read an excerpt from Sweet Succubus!
It started again, even before she sank deep into the dream. Part of her aware she stroked his skin. Part of her floating away, drifting toward the ceiling, gazing down curiously at the couple entwined on her bed.
As she watched, Moses’s features grew lax in sleep. His legs twitched. The length of his cock, still drying in the air, lay curled against his thick thigh.
Her attention snagged on his sex.
Freed by her dream, she swooped toward the bed then paused to hover over the couple, suspended. She glanced toward the woman—the other her. The body nestled against his side disappeared in a slow fade.
The creature she was now settled between his spread thighs and bent to breathe in his musky scent, her face moving up and down, taking slow, lazy breaths and continuing to drag in his primal smell. As the scent filled her, she changed, formed, grew corporeal.
Now she wore wings, long, whisper-thin blades that rose and fell behind her, allowing her to hover above as she examined him. In this state, she wasn’t Melanie. Wasn’t human. A surge of arousal hit, so strong it curled like a tightening band inside her womb, twisting, forcing her clitoris to harden and expand.
She reached a lengthening finger between her legs and tapped it, felt it expand some more, protruding like a tiny penis, so hard and erect it ached—no, throbbed—with her frantic heartbeats. She drew near him again, reached for his cock and wrapped her longer fingers around his slackened shaft.
His eyelids blinked then shot open. He gave a yelp, then lay stock still, barely breathing, his gaze sweeping her. “Melanie?” he whispered in her dream.
“Not Melanie,” she said, her voice a whispery rasp. At this moment, she wasn’t. She was a wild, hungry creature. “Neeeeeed,” she whined, her fist pulling on his cock, her palm heating. She sent a slither of heat through her hand, feeling it slide from her fingers into his cock. Now he’d never be able to resist.
His hips jerked then pumped, pushing his hardening shaft through her tight fist. “What the fuck? Let me go!”
“Neeeed!” she repeated, too excited, too tense with the sexual energy running through her body to be coherent. She flung back her head and let out a cry, an animalistic howl that filled the small space. Her wings fluttered, stirring until the curtains at the windows flapped, and her long black braids whipped furiously around her.
Her wings angled, and she let go of his penis, floating up then back down. Holding his wide-eyed gaze, she opened her thighs, repositioned her wings again, and swooped closer.
Moses scrambled onto his elbows and began to scoot away.
She slid a fingernail along his calf, gave a breathless little moan, and tossed her head, lashing his belly and thighs with her hair. She wrapped a hand around his calf and held it, showing him she was powerful, that he couldn’t fight and win.
“Shit!” He held still, his cock tapping his trembling belly.
“Need,” she said, more softly this time, entreating him with her eyes. This one, she didn’t want to force, didn’t want him afraid.
The tendons in his neck flexed, his square jaw hardened, but he leaned back on his elbows, his gaze direct. “Take. Whatever the fuck you need,” he bit out. “We’re gonna talk. After.”
Joy swept through her, surpassing the blinding hunger for a moment. She rose toward the ceiling and curled over and over in the air, her body writhing sinuously, her hips undulating in their natural rhythm, enticing him, building her own sweet tension.
She fluttered back, legs spreading wide as she lowered to his calves. Furling her wings with a snap, she cocked her head, gave a slow smile, and bent over his cock—his large, lovely, veined, and turgid cock.
“Pretty,” she sighed then stuck out her pointed tongue to trace the length of him. Musky feminine cream, his own salty come—all the flavors she adored, craved, exploded on her tongue. She went down, consuming his length and swirling her head to pull her lips around and around his thick shaft.
“Sweet-fucking-hell,” he gasped.
Then fingers sank into her hair, and she rolled her head to enjoy the scrape of his nails as he tried to capture her, tried to pull her deeper.
Her jaws widened, cracking at the corners, and she sank, hunching over him to drive downward, taking every inch of his sex into her throat. On the way up, she sucked, pulling hard, pulsing up his length. The calves trapped beneath her shook; his hips bucked, but she wouldn’t let him come. Wouldn’t send the flickering jolt that shot a man-beast into orgasm.
She owned it. She’d milk it for every bit of pleasure, every bit of his essence that she could consume. His groans fed her soul; his deep, racking shudders made her stronger. In the end, his essence would seed her body with energy that she’d wrap around herself for warmth and comfort. Pleasure was the reward for both their efforts.
But pleasure could be all-consuming.
Coming off him, she shook her head to clear it. Trying not to get drunk on his delicious flavors, his spicy heat. She didn’t want to leave this one weak…or dead.
On Monday, I drove to Little Rock, AR to witness my youngest daughter’s swearing in ceremony.
