Chapter 153. Envy II
Succubi Chapter 153. Envy II
I kissed her again. Not to silence. Just to respond.
Her lips were already waiting, parted, warm, eager. The kiss wasn’t gentle this time. It was deliberate. Claimed. I pulled her closer by the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair, feeling the soft strands slide between my knuckles. She made a sound low in her throat, something between a sigh and a whimper, and melted into it instantly.
The room felt smaller. Warmer. Thick with the scent of her skin and the lingering spice of her aura. Envy shimmered faintly around her, like heat haze, reacting to my Pride the way dry grass reacts to fire.
She broke the kiss only to breathe, her forehead resting against mine, eyes dark and burning.
Then she started undressing.
Slowly.
Not rushed. Not shy.
Her fingers slid to the hem of her top, lifting it inch by inch, letting me see instead of just revealing. Pale skin. Smooth stomach. The subtle lines of muscle beneath softness. She held my gaze the entire time, daring me to look away.
I didn’t.
When the fabric finally came off, she tossed it aside without ceremony and climbed back over me, straddling my hips again. Her body was warm. Solid. Real. The kind of beautiful that wasn’t fragile at all. Strong thighs. Curves that fit perfectly where they pressed against me. The faint rise and fall of her chest as her breathing deepened.
Yeah.
I saw it now.
Her body wasn’t just beautiful, it was confident. Like she knew exactly what she was doing to me. Like she enjoyed being seen, wanted it, fed on the way my attention burned over her.
And that gaze.
Oh, that gaze.
Fierce. Hungry. Sexy in a way that felt sharp enough to cut. Not submissive. Not innocent. A succubus who chose to kneel, not one who needed to.
She leaned down and kissed me again, slower this time. Her lips traced mine, then my jaw, then the corner of my mouth, like she was mapping me out. Her hair brushed my cheeks. I could taste her. Sweet. Warm. Dangerous.
When she pulled back, her lips hovered just above mine.
I swallowed.
“Suck me,” I said quietly. “Make me hard.”
Her smile was immediate.
Soft. Wicked. Obedient.
“I obey,” she whispered.
She shifted her weight, sliding down my body with deliberate intent. Her hands traced my chest as she moved, nails dragging lightly over skin, leaving heat in their wake. She didn’t rush. She didn’t fumble. Every movement was precise, like she knew exactly how much anticipation I could take before my control started to crack.
She looked up at me from below, eyes half‑lidded, lips parted, breath warm against my skin.
The ropes on the bed pulsed faintly again, responding to the tension, to the way my Pride surged and coiled tight in my chest. My jaw clenched. My fingers dug into the sheets.
She rested her hands on my thighs, thumbs brushing slow, grounding strokes that made my breath hitch.
“Still watching me like that,” she murmured. “Good.”
She leaned closer.
Closer.
Her presence alone was enough to make heat flood my body, enough to make my instincts roar. Pride didn’t just want. Pride took. And she was offering herself to that edge willingly, knowingly, eyes bright with challenge and desire.
I felt it then.
That snap-point.
That moment where command and surrender blurred into something electric and dangerous and intoxicating.
And right before it tipped over…
Right before control turned into action…
She paused, lips hovering just there, breath ghosting, gaze locked on mine like she was waiting for one more word.
One more order.
One more permission.
And I knew exactly what came next.
My fingers flexed against the sheets, the last of my restraint thinning like stretched glass.
“Do it,” I said.
She didn’t hesitate.
Her hands gripped my thighs with quiet strength, fingers spreading just enough to ground me. Then, slowly, reverently, she lowered her head. I felt the warmth of her breath first, soft, teasing, ghosting over the base of my shaft. My body responded instinctively, hips twitching forward as if chasing that heat before it vanished.
Then her tongue flicked out.
One slow lick. Just the tip.
And…
My cock twitched, half-hard and aching already, but the feel of her mouth made the rest of my body light up like fire tracing dry grass. She licked me again, slower this time, the flat of her tongue dragging from the base of my shaft all the way up to the sensitive crown. Her lips barely brushed the head. Not enough to take me in. Just enough to feel it. To let me know she could.
She looked up at me then. Eyes gleaming.
Envy. Hunger. Amusement. All wrapped into one perfect, sinful stare.
And then she moved lower, her tongue tracing down again, this time curling gently under and around, until I felt her fingers slide beneath me, cupping my balls with expert care. Warm palms, soft squeeze. Just enough to make me groan.
Spontaneously.
Loud.
My hips jolted again, lifting without thinking. My shaft twitched against her tongue, hardening fast.
“Shit,” I gasped, voice already raw.
She smiled against me. I felt it. The curve of her lips on my skin. She enjoyed this, watching Pride tremble. Watching me breathe harder, grip the sheets tighter, flinch under her attention like I wasn’t supposed to enjoy being on the receiving end.
But I did.
Because it was her.
Because it was Evelyn and she was on her knees for me.
Her fingers rolled my balls slowly in her palm, warm and slick from the heat of her breath. She tilted her head slightly and kissed the side of my shaft. Not the head. Not yet. Just the length. A wet, open-mouthed kiss that lingered.
I growled low in my throat.
She giggled softly, then gave a gentle stroke with her tongue up the underside, one slow line right along that damn nerve that always made me twitch.
And I did twitch.
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