Chapter 7. Lex
The seat creaked under Lochran’s weight as he settled down at the cluttered table. The house magicked away the dusty books from the space in front of him and stacked them on a shelf at the far side of the room. The kettle whistled merrily as I pulled two floral teacups off their hooks and set them in front of me.
“What kind of tea do you want?” I asked, opening the cupboard and glancing at all the labels. My hand automatically grasped for my favorite blend. Remembering what happened the last time I had cinnamon and clove tea, I instead opted for the lavender blend.
“English breakfast,” Lochran said as his head whipped from side to side, examining the kitchen. “One sugar, a drop of milk.” A silver sugar bowl appeared in front of me, as did a ceramic jug of fresh milk. I poured the hot water into the cups and turned to face the demon while I waited for the tea to brew. He’d removed the leather jacket, and my first thought was I need those huge arms around me. Now.
His nostrils flared and a slight grin twitched at his lips, but he remained focused on examining the kitchen.
“Nice place you’ve got here.”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic,” I snapped back at him. While the house was ancient and filled with all sorts of crap, there was an unusual charm about it. Despite its treacherous ways, there was something deeply endearing about the house, and I felt a strange protectiveness over its crooked walls and copper worktops.
“I wasn’t being sarcastic, witch. I meant it. I feel like I could explore this place for days and still not have seen even half of what it has to offer.”
His answer seemed to please the house, for the broom swept its way over to him and tentatively leaned over his shoulder as if examining the welt it had given him earlier. Lochran reached his shovel-like hand behind him. With more gentleness than I thought possible for a demon his size, he crooked a finger and tickled the handle. The broom quivered, butting its handle further into the demon’s touch.
“Traitor,” I whispered to the house.
In response, the broom, as if breaking from its trance, zoomed off to the corner and began idly sweeping up once more.
After a few moments of awkward silence, I dropped a splash of milk into Lochran’s cup and brought the tea over, pushing his across the table to him. He took a sip and said, “Not as good as they make it in England, witch. But it’ll do.”
I had an uncontrollable urge to kick his shins under the table. Imagine! Telling a witch that someone else made tea better than them! I mean, there might be an argument that British witches did make better tea than the American witches, but it was a faux pas to point it out.
As I took a deep breath to restrain myself from physical assault, his eyes drifted down and landed on my notebook. “Oh, someone’s been a naughty little witch,” he said, reaching a hand out.
I was quicker. I pulled my notebook out of his grasp, causing a malevolent smile to cross his lips. “And here I was, thinking a little goody-two-shoes had summoned me. I do like a little wicked on the side.”
My traitorous heart fluttered, and heat pooled in my stomach. “For the umpteenth time, I didn’t summon you. It was the house.”
“Tell me.” He leaned slightly over the table, his voice soft, like glowing embers. “What wicked things have you done, little witch?”
I leaned toward him and, in as sweet a voice as I could muster, said, “Fuck about and find out, demon.”
Lochran’s eyes widened, and after a very brief moment of silence, he threw his head back and laughed. Each deep peal rippled through me, and I thought I might genuinely combust at any moment.
Finally, as his laughter died, I stood up and said, “Anyway, it’s late. I’ll show you to your room.”
He stood, cup of tea forgotten, and made a gesture for me to lead the way. “Witches first.”
I led him into the hallway, the little candles on the sconces bursting into flames, illuminating the stairs and second-floor landing. Despite being well ahead of him, as I took the stairs two steps at a time, his face was directly in line with my ass. Somehow, I felt his hot breath curl around me, sending yet another jolt of desire through my core. I heard a soft groan from behind me and prayed that he could only feed while having skin-to-skin contact. I’d done everything within my power not to learn too much about the feeding habits of sex demons because it was fucking grim to think about the non-witch side of my family doing that. But now I had an uninvited incubus spending the night, I wished I knew more.
The stairs seemed to take forever to ascend, but finally, we reached the landing. I had debated giving him the second-biggest room—the one that faced mine. But that would mean sharing an en suite, and I had no desire whatsoever to do that. I directed him to the room furthest away from mine and reached out for the doorknob. The brass was cool beneath my fingers as I twisted, but the door remained steadfastly shut.
After a few more twists and a too-hard shove with my shoulder that did absolutely nothing, I turned my attention to the smallest room. Again, the house refused me access.
“Having trouble there, dear?” Lochran called, amusement tinging his every word.
“Not at all,” I said, spinning on my heel and marching down to the other side of the landing. Tentatively, I stood, staring at the room opposite mine.
“You’ve had your fun now, House,” I whispered. “But I’ll never forgive you if you make him share a room with me.”
In answer, the door swung open.
The house had dressed Lochran’s room with home comforts to the best of its ability. Knotty rugs littered the floor, candles and tattered books covered the surfaces. A closet door was ajar, showcasing an array of clothes. Where it got them from, I had no idea. The bed was covered in an assortment of quilted duvets and crochet blankets and—I blanched—attached to each of the bedposts was a length of black silk.
“Oh,” he said, crossing the room to the bed, a wickedly handsome grin on his face. He ran the silk over his fingers before turning to me and saying, “I like these.”
And that was my cue to leave.
“Goodnight!” I called over my shoulder, not giving him the chance to respond.
I spent the next ten minutes walking aimlessly around my room, trying desperately to rid myself of this pent-up energy that was pooling below my stomach. I’d changed into three different pairs of pajamas before settling on a skimpy string top and a pair of shorts. A bit more marching around, and I finally decided it was no use.
I slipped into bed and wiggled into the middle. The bed was hot, as if another body had been settled underneath where I lay just moments before. I narrowed my eyes at the ceiling. This house was devious in the most subtle of ways.
A sigh escaped my lips as I traced my fingers up and down the inside of my thigh.
If I were going to have any chance of not barging into the sex demon’s bedroom, ripping my clothes off, and begging him to take me here and now, I was going to have to do something.
My fingers moved to lightly trace the hem of my boxer shorts.
I bit my lip and glanced at the door. There were two doors and a landing between us. And he was most likely asleep by now.
My fingers dipped under the material, fingering gently over the narrow strip of hair. My clit pulsed, despite not touching it. It wasn’t going to take me long to come. With a final glance at the door, I traced my fingers between my aching folds, wetness coating them in the first stroke.
An image of Lochran pinning me to the bed, his thick arms either side of me as his dark flop of hair fell over his forehead, bubbled to the forefront of my mind. Yeah, it was totally counterintuitive to masturbate to the image of the man I was resolutely trying not to take to my bed, but my mind’s eye just wouldn’t let me conjure anyone else.
I could almost hear Lochran’s gentle groans as I pictured his hands dipping between us, the heat of his touch scorching as he ran his finger through my folds for the first time, his fingertip gliding slowly in exploration.
Was he the kind of demon who would take it slow? Worshipping every inch of me and wringing out every ounce of pleasure my body could muster? Or would he drive himself into me, fucking me into oblivion until I was screaming his name over and over again?
Tonight, I opted for the second mental image, my desperate need to come undone nearly overwhelming.
I plunged a finger inside me, my walls hot and yearning for more. I remembered his shovel-like hands and added a second finger. My thumb grazed over my swollen clit, desperate for more friction as my fingers plunged in and out of me. The sound of my wetness was almost deafening, but I couldn’t stop. I was so close.
The image of Lochran crooking his finger as he gently stroked the broom flashed in my mind’s eye, and my fingers curled inside me, grazing over that sensitive spot that had me biting down on my duvet to stop from screaming.
My other hand unconsciously pulled my vest top up and caressed a heavy breast before pulling on my nipple tightly—not enough to hurt, but just enough to send a jolt of energy straight to my apex. I bucked into empty air, plunging my fingers deep inside me as my thumb roughly ran over my clit in frantic flicks.
My teeth ground together in a desperate attempt not to scream Lochran’s name as my orgasm washed over me, wave after wave, each clench of my walls around my slender fingers telling me I needed more. I needed a thick incubus dick inside me, and I was only one room away from him.
No, Lex! Remember the sex ban!
It felt like forever before I could uncurl my toes and my muscles unlocked. With a deep sigh, I rolled over and pulled the duvet up to my neck. Just the thought of Lochran’s fingers had given me the quickest, most powerful orgasm of my life. For the first time in a very long time, the succubus side of me was satiated.
Shit .
My resolve to not have sex was really going to be put to the test.