Page 127 of Demon's Beauty

Her head dips down, but before her lips part she looks up at me, her half-hooded emerald eyes sending a jolt of arousal through me.

“How about something else?”

I nod.

Or, at least, I mean to nod.

I’m not exactly sure what my body is doing right now.

But my hands are planted by my sides and I’m trying my best to be her good, good boy as she cups and lifts her breasts.

She settles them around my cock, and I can’t do anything to stop the groan that slips out of me, the way my hips ache to thrust.

Soleil smirks again. “Good?”

“You have—” I pant, still trying to get a hold of myself, “—no idea, sunshine.”

She works me like that for a few moments, moving on me, searching for a rhythm before a frown forms on her lips.

“Do you have any lube around here?”

“Lube?” I’m not familiar with the term.

Or perhaps I am.

Right now, with the way all my thoughts are misfiring, there’s really no way to tell.

Little patches of pink stain Soleil’s cheeks. “Um, body oil, maybe? Something that will make this… slippery?”

“Ah.” Understanding dawns, and my cock gets even harder, if such a thing were possible. “Top drawer of my nightstand. The stoppered glass jar.”

She stands and goes to get it, but when she returns, she doesn’t sink back to her knees.

Instead of using the oil on me, she pours it over herself. In the lush, delectable valley between her breasts, over the mouth-watering swells. It makes her skin glow, slick and golden.

She keeps herself there, right at eye-level, letting me watch as she massages it into her skin, as she teases her nipples into magnificent, rosy peaks.

Goddess, I wish I could use my hands.

I wish I could help her, take that oil from her and make sure she’s fully coated, glistening and delectable in the candlelight.

But she hasn’t given me permission, and I’m nothing if not entirely spellbound and ready to do just as my witch bids me.

Still, when she sinks to her knees and places a last drizzle of oil directly into her cleavage, I have a moment of weakness.

It’s entirely out of my control, the way my arms twitch forward and how keenly my fingers ache to touch.

“Hands,” she murmurs again. “Remember where I told you to put them?”

“I remember,” I say gruffly.

“Good.” A smile, so devious and satisfied, as my witch wraps her hand around my cock and nestles it between her breasts.

The feel of her like this is incredible.

Soft swells of flesh, slippery and smooth and warm as she moves herself up, and down. Up, and down. An unfamiliar sensation, but so fucking good.

Unbelievably fucking good.