Chapter 97. Wet
Succubi Chapter 97. Wet
Her weight shifted in my lap, pressing down against me, and I swore the velvet sofa became molten under us. Her hips rolled slightly, just enough to remind me that yeah, I was already hard, and yeah, she definitely noticed.
“See?” she murmured, nipping at my lip. “You do like it.”
I tried to glare. It melted into another groan as she rocked down a little harder, heat pressing against me through the thin fabric.
“You’re ridiculous,” I rasped.
Her eyes glowed with that innocent, sleepy light, but her grin was pure demon. “And you’re mine.”
Something inside me snapped. I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her flush against me, kissing her hard enough to steal both our breaths. She made a muffled sound, half moan, half laugh, her tentacles squeezing around me like they were cheering her on.
Her hands fisted in my hair. My own slid down her back, feeling the soft curve of her body, the faint tremble in her muscles as she pressed closer.
“Evan…” she breathed, pulling back just enough to speak. “Let me… please.”
The word please out of her mouth wrecked me more than any smug tease.
I swallowed, my pride and fear and need crashing together. “Sera—”
“I want to,” she whispered. “Not just to tease. Not just because I’m hungry. I want you.”
My chest stuttered.
She wasn’t joking.
Her eyes were soft. Open.
And my brain, the part that wanted to cling to logic, to caution, to not screw this up, screamed at me to stop. But my body? My heart? They’d already decided.
I nodded, barely more than a breath. “…Okay.”
Her smile bloomed slow, radiant, and then she kissed me again, hungrier this time. Her hips rocked against me deliberately, grinding down in a rhythm that made my blood boil. I groaned into her mouth, fingers clutching her waist tight.
She broke the kiss, panting softly, and pressed her forehead against mine. “I’ll make you feel good. I promise.”
“Pretty sure you already are,” I muttered, gasping as she shifted again.
Her tentacles slid lower, curling at my thighs, teasing the edge of my pants. Her hand pressed against my chest, holding me back against the sofa as if I might run. I wasn’t running. Not anymore.
Slowly, she kissed down my jaw, my neck, sucking lightly at the skin until my head tilted back against the seat. My breath came ragged. Her tentacles slipped under my shirt, stroking across my abs.
“Sera,” I groaned as her tongue licked a hot trail up my throat.
Her tentacle curled around my cock through the fabric, squeezing just enough to make me hiss.
“You’re twitching again,” she teased.
I choked on a laugh. “Yeah, wonder why.”
She grinned, then shifted back just enough to tug at my waistband. Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, searching.
I nodded, breathless.
She slid my pants down with the help of her tentacles, freeing me into the cool air. I was already throbbing, flushed, slick at the tip. She licked her lips, her innocent smile turning sinful.
“You’re cute like this,” she whispered.
“Don’t— don’t say sh*t like that—”
But I didn’t finish, because her hand wrapped around me, stroking slow, deliberate. My head slammed back against the sofa. A ragged moan tore from my throat.
“F*ck—”
Her tentacle tightened at the base, holding me firm as her hand worked up and down, thumb brushing over the head, smearing the wetness. My hips jerked helplessly.
“You like that?” she asked, voice sweet, almost innocent.
I laughed breathlessly. “You already know I do.”
She leaned in, kissing me again, stroking me in rhythm with the movement of her lips. My hands tangled in her hair, tugging gently. She moaned into my mouth, her tongue curling against mine, her hand squeezing harder.
My whole body shuddered.
“Too much,” I gasped. “I’m—”
“Good,” she whispered, her hand moving faster now, her tentacles stroking my thighs, my chest, holding me down. “Come for me, Evan.”
And I did. Hard. My hips jerked helplessly, my cock pulsing in her hand until heat spilled across her fingers and my stomach. I groaned, head falling back, breath ragged. She stroked me through every twitch, then brought her hand up, licking her fingers slow, her glowing eyes locked on mine.
“Sweet,” she murmured.
It should’ve embarrassed me. It should’ve made me roll away, retreat into sarcasm and walls. But instead, something inside me snapped. Not the helplessness I’d been drowning in all day. Something else.
I didn’t want to be passive anymore. Didn’t want to be teased, fed, or pitied. I wanted to feel her, really feel her. All of her.
Before I knew it, my hands shot forward, grabbing her waist, pulling her down against me. She gasped, surprised, the soft curve of her body pressing flush to my still-hard cock. Her eyes widened, and for once, she didn’t look smug. She looked… soft. Uncertain.
“E-Evan—” she stammered, but it wasn’t protest.
“Not enough,” I said, my voice low, rough, raw. My pride, my fear, my need, everything boiled out of me at once. I kissed her hard, claiming her mouth, tasting her, biting her lower lip until she moaned into me. My tongue tangled with hers, desperate, hungry, but beneath it all was something else. Something that wasn’t about proving myself or chasing relief.
I wanted her.
Really wanted her.
Her arms tightened around my neck, her tentacles curling in shock before wrapping around my back, my thighs, my chest. Not binding this time. Holding. Comforting. Encouraging.
My hands slid up her sides, over the soft swell of her breasts under her shirt. She shivered, eyes fluttering shut as my thumbs brushed over her nipples through the fabric. Her breath hitched, her body pressing closer.
I tugged at her shirt, fumbling for a second before peeling it upward. She lifted her arms obediently, letting me strip it off. Her pale skin glowed faintly in the dim light, her breasts rising and falling with each shaky breath. I swallowed hard, awe mixing with heat.
“You’re beautiful,” I muttered before I could stop myself.
She froze, then flushed deep, her lips parting like she didn’t know what to say. Not smug. Not teasing. Just… stunned.
I kissed down her neck, trailing hot, desperate lips across her collarbone, down to her chest. She gasped, her hands clinging to my shoulders, her tentacles stroking through my hair. I took her breast in my mouth, sucking gently, my tongue flicking her nipple. She cried out softly, arching into me.
“E-Evan…” she breathed, her voice trembling.
Her tentacles slid along my sides, caressing, comforting. Not rushing me. Not demanding. Just there. Like they knew I needed the reassurance as much as she did.
I kissed lower, across her stomach, tasting the faint salt of her skin. Her body trembled under my lips, her fingers tangling tighter in my hair. I tugged at the waistband of her shorts, looking up at her for a second.
Her eyes met mine, wide, vulnerable, but she nodded.
I slid them down slowly, revealing the soft curve of her thighs, the slick sheen already between her legs. My breath caught.
She was wet. So wet.
“For me?” I whispered, kissing the inside of her thigh.
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