Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
“ G et away from me!” I gasped, shoving at his broad chest as I scrambled away. I rolled off the edge of the bed and would have fallen if he hadn’t reached out one long arm and caught me by the waist.
“Take it easy, baby—breathe!” he urged, pulling me firmly back onto the bed.
“I don’t want to breathe! I want you out of here!” I pointed a trembling finger at the bedroom door.
But the Demon from the painting wasn’t going anywhere.
“Sorry, I can’t go,” he drawled, not sounding sorry at all. “I’m here until I fulfill your deepest fantasy—the one you hide deep down inside, even from yourself.”
“What? What are you talking about? And who are you?” I demanded. Which would have been good questions to ask before I let him suck my nipples and sting my clit with his tail.
Speaking of that, my clit was still tingling and throbbing—it was like my body was threatening to come again at any minute. Which I definitely did not need right now—especially since the other orgasm he’d given me had nearly made me faint with pleasure.
“I am Malik—Incubus extraordinaire at your service.” He bowed from the waist, the firelight gleaming on his curving horns and the broad, bare planes of his muscular chest. I realized suddenly he was naked.
“Hey—where are your clothes? Where’s your suit with the lacy cravat?” I said, making a gesture at my own throat to indicate the frothy lace.
“I took it off, of course.” He shrugged, his broad shoulders rolling. “I thought it would be easier to fulfill your fantasy without it on.”
“Well put it back on!” I snapped. “You’re not fulfilling anything tonight.”
He sighed.
“And here I thought this assignment would be easy. You looked so eager—so hungry— lying there on the bed earlier with your thighs spread, teasing your soft little pussy just for me.”
“I was not doing…what I was doing for you,” I said stiffly. “I thought you were just a picture—just paint on canvas. I didn’t know you were actually watching me!”
“Come on, how could you not know?” he asked, sounding entirely too reasonable. “You woke me with your touch. Didn’t you feel the tingle of magic when you did it? Didn’t you see my eyes following you?”
“No, I didn’t,” I said, lying through my teeth—about the tingling, at least.
In retrospect, I could see that I should have been more concerned about it. But after living in Hidden Hollow for five years, I had more or less gotten used to magic being performed around me all the time. So feeling a tingle when I touched his portrait hadn’t worried me.
I was feeling really stupid about that right now.
“Look,” I said, glaring at him. “I’m sorry if I woke you up somehow—that certainly wasn’t my intention. But I’m going to have to ask you to leave now. I have no interest in having you fulfill any of my, er, fantasies or anything else. So please just go.”
“Sorry, I can’t. I’m tied to your bloodline.” He shrugged again—a “what can you do?” gesture that made me clench my jaw in irritation.
“What do you mean you’re tied to my bloodline?” I demanded. “Are you saying I inherited you somehow? Inherited a Demon?”
“An Incubus ,” he corrected me. “And yes, that’s exactly what you did—you inherited me.”
“I’m sure my Great Aunt Gertrude never meant for me to have you,” I protested. “She just left me your picture—she didn’t know a real-life Demon lived inside it!”
“ Incubus. And I think she had her suspicions.” He sounded thoughtful. “I know she was careful never to waken me fully or to set me free. I think she got so thoroughly sick of males during her disastrous marriage that she never wanted one in her life again.”
I had to admit, that did sound like Great Aunt Gertrude. But then, why had she saddled me with the Demonic portrait and its annoying inhabitant?
Annoying but hot, whispered a traitorous little voice in my head as I watched him from the corner of my eye. I couldn’t help admiring the way the firelight shone on the golden-red skin of the Demon’s muscular body. And if that shadow I saw between his legs was any indication, he really might give a Centaur or a Minotaur some serious competition in the size department.
But my perusal hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“Admit it—you like what you see. You want me to fulfill your deepest fantasy— that’s why your Great Aunt left me to you,” he rumbled, giving me a half-lidded look that seemed to promise all kinds of erotic acts no other man had ever offered me.
“Are you reading my mind?” I demanded, glaring at him.
“I don’t have to read your mind—your thoughts are clearly written on your lovely face,” he murmured.
Which wasn’t exactly an answer.
“Look, I don’t care why Great Aunt Gertrude left you to me, the fact is I don’t want you here,” I said impatiently.
“That’s too bad—I can’t leave until I fulfill the terms of the wish your many times great grandmother, Hester Hatch, made centuries ago,” he said firmly. “I am tied to the women of your bloodline—I cannot be free until I give you what you so desperately need.”
“I’m not desperate for anyone!” I snapped, offended. “Least of all some gigolo Demon who’s been spying on me from a painting!”
“Please, I’m an Incubus,” he corrected me again.
I threw up my hands in frustration.
“Demon, Incubus—what’s the difference?”
“The difference is, I am several steps above a lowly Demon,” he said, sounding slightly offended. “I am a specialist . Only a witch with considerable power can summon me.”
“I’m just a Kitchen Witch,” I pointed out. “I make pastries and run a bakery—that’s pretty much it.”
“You may be ‘just a Kitchen Witch’ but you have the whole town in your thrall,” he said, smiling. “They all come flocking to your bakery for your delicious pastries just as they flocked to your birthday party tonight.”
“How do you know that?” I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously. “You shouldn’t know any of that if I just woke you up a little while ago.”
“I learned it when I was pleasuring you.” His eyes went half-lidded again. “You’re so sensitive—you reacted beautifully to my touch.”
I could feel my cheeks getting hot with mortification.
“I thought I was having a dream,” I said stiffly. “So are you saying you can read my mind?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“Only when I’m touching you,” he admitted. “Mind reading is one of an Incubus’s most valuable skills.”
“What? Why is that?” I asked, curious despite myself.
He shrugged.
“Isn’t it obvious? A mortal male doesn’t know what you want in bed unless you spell it out for him—and even then he’s more than likely to get it wrong. Whereas when I touch you, I can tell what you’re hungry for—what you crave.”
“You…you can?” I asked through numb lips. God, I wished he wasn’t so mouthwatering sitting there nude and muscular in my bed!
“Mmm-hmm.” He nodded and leaned towards me, the firelight reflected in his black eyes. “And I can give it to you, baby—whether it’s a hard fuck or a long, leisurely lovemaking session where you come over and over and cry in my arms from the intense release afterwards,” he murmured, giving me another one of those lustful looks. “Or maybe you just want your pussy licked for hours on end—I can do that for you too.” His eyes blazed. “I love it—love to worship the female body with all its lovely curves. Especially fuller curves like yours.” He described an overfull hourglass in the air between us as he looked me up and down.
I pulled the top of my nightgown closed and leaned away from him but my heart was pounding. He had just given me the most intense orgasm of my life and yet here I was, hot to trot—as Goldie would say—all over again!
“Don’t talk like that—I don’t even know you,” I protested.
“But I know you , Celia. I know what you’re craving—why don’t you let me give it to you?” he murmured.
“Because I don’t have sex with strangers!” I snapped. “And besides, I’m not craving anything like…like that.”
“Please. Don’t lie to me or yourself.” He shook his head. “Your lust perfumes the air between us and I saw the way you touched yourself earlier—saw the way you fucked yourself with that toy of yours.”
His voice was a low, sexy rasp and his eyes were blazing again—challenging me to deny what he was saying.
I was torn between mortification and lust, which was creeping up on me even though I didn’t want to feel it.
“You weren’t supposed to see that,” I said. “I didn’t know you were watching!”
“You can tell yourself that, but you know it’s not true. And until you give in and let me fulfill your fantasy we won’t be free of each other,” he pointed out. “So why not lay back and let me worship your body in the way you deserve? I bet no other male has ever truly given you your due.”
As a matter of fact, he was right about that. I’d never had a lover who was really eager to go down on me or give me pleasure. Maybe because trying to find the right guy when you’re plus-sized is like dating on hard mode. I’d met plenty of men who would have been happy just to use my body for their own gratification…but none that were very interested in mine.
But this Demon—this Incubus—was telling me that he was all about my gratification—all about giving me pleasure in any way I wanted it. Malik didn’t seem to mind that I was curvy—in fact he seemed to like it.
I couldn’t help remembering how good it felt when he touched me…the hot swirl of his tongue around my sensitive nipples and the expert way he’d stroked my pussy, circling my clit in a way that drove me crazy, touching me just the right way…
No, what was I thinking? He was getting to me—I couldn’t let that happen!
“Absolutely not,” I said firmly. “In fact, I want you to get dressed and leave right now.”
He sighed.
“So you’re going to make this difficult for both of us? All right. I can get dressed but I can’t leave—not until I fulfill your fantasy and Hester’s wish.”
“What did she wish for, anyway?” I demanded. I had never given much thought to my ancestress. All I knew was that she was a Kitchen Witch like me and that she’d been hung during the Witch Fever that had swept New England back in the 1600s.
“I can show you, if you like,” he offered. “Maybe if you see her and what happened to her you’ll finally understand why I’m bound to your family.”
“How can you show me?” I asked suspiciously. “Do you have to transport me back in time or something?” I wasn’t eager to travel to the 1600s—especially not dressed in my sheer silk nightgown. I’d been to several museums in Salem that convinced me life was dirty, dark, and dismal back then. Also, they treated women like dirt. No thank you!
But Malik only laughed.
“Hardly. My powers don’t extend quite that far. I can’t take you back in time but I can show you what I saw…and what happened to Hester, your ancestress.”
“Well…” I hesitated but it didn’t seem like I was getting rid of him any time soon. Maybe if I had more information, I’d have a better chance of banishing him from my life. “All right,” I said at last. “How do you do it?”
“Just hold my hand and I’ll show you.” He held out a large, well-shaped hand but I pulled back.
“First put on some clothes,” I told him. I had a strange feeling that if I touched him, the lust I was feeling would overcome me and I might try to jump his demonic bones. I needed some barriers between us so that couldn’t happen.
He sighed again.
“Very well. But not the suit I wore in the painting—it’s horribly uncomfortable and I was wearing it for centuries .”
“I thought you were asleep,” I said suspiciously.
“I was dozing,” he said. “I didn’t fully awaken until you touched me. And gave me your blood and turned my portrait towards the North, fulfilling the first part of the spell and allowing me to leave my prison of glass.”
“But I never…” I trailed off, remembering how I had cut my finger on the broken glass and left a smear of blood on the portrait. And apparently turning his picture towards the wall had been turning it towards the North. Damn it, I needed to invest in a compass or at least be more careful around strange magic!
“Here—what about this?” He snapped his fingers and suddenly he was wearing a different kind of suit. It was an expensive tailored one that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a billionaire on the cover of a romance novel. It was black with a crisp white Egyptian cotton shirt and a maroon tie. Diamond cufflinks glinted at his wrists and the scent of expensive cologne, mixed with his aroma of smoke and spice, filled my senses.
What is it about a man in a suit? My mind was suddenly filled with fantasies of calling him “Sir” and having him bend me over his knee to “punish” me with a spanking because I had been a “bad girl.”
I shook my head, trying to drive the illicit images away. I just hoped he couldn’t read my mind when we weren’t touching. But I couldn’t stop staring at him.
“Wow,” I murmured, rendered temporarily speechless—or at least monosyllabic.
“Thank you.” He flashed me a gleaming grin. “That’s a most gratifying reaction. Now, will you allow me to show you the fate of your ancestress all those many years ago?”
He held out his hand again and this time, reluctantly, I took it.
“Good—thank you for trusting me.” Malik smiled and entwined our fingers, his much larger hand swallowing my own. “Now hold on tight—you might get dizzy.”
“Dizzy? Why?” I asked.
But before the words fully left my mouth, the room started spinning around me in a colorful, kaleidoscope swirl and then the world around me disappeared…