The Incubus System Chapter 1420. Push and Pull

The Incubus System Chapter 1420. Push and Pull

I could feel the familiar tightening in my balls, the coil of pleasure about to snap.

Her command echoed in my mind, a sweet, torturous restraint.

The battle was fierce, a war between my body's desperate need and my will to obey.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my teeth clenched, every muscle in my body straining.

Then she hummed, a low, deep vibration that traveled up my cock and shot through my entire body.

That was it.

I couldn't hold back.

With a guttural cry, I came, my body arching off the bed as I spilled into her mouth, my release a flood of relief and despair.

Despair, because I had failed.

I had disobeyed.

Her movements slowed, her gentle suction milking every last drop from me.

When she finally pulled back, a single drop of my cum glistening on her lower lip, she looked at me.

There was no anger in her eyes.

No disappointment.

Just a slow, predatory smile.

"I did tell you not to," she said, her voice a husky purr.

She crawled up my body, her movements fluid and graceful, until she was straddling my chest.

She leaned down, her lips just inches from mine.

"And I always," she whispered, her breath warm against my skin, "mean what I say."

Before I could answer, she closed the distance, her lips claiming mine.

The kiss was a punishment and a reward all at once.

It was demanding, possessive, a clear assertion of her dominance.

And I tasted myself on her tongue, a salty, bitter reminder of my failure.

My hands, which had been fisted in the sheets, came up to grip her hips, pulling her closer, needing the contact, needing her.

Her hands were in my hair again, her fingers tightening, pulling my head back, exposing my throat.

She broke the kiss, her lips trailing down my jaw, my neck, my chest.

Her teeth scraped against my chest, a sharp, stinging pleasure that made me gasp.

My body, which had been sated, was stirring again, a new wave of desire washing over me.

Her mouth continued its downward journey, her tongue leaving a wet, glistening trail on my skin.

She paused at my navel, her tongue dipping inside, a teasing, intimate gesture that made my hips jerk.

My hands tightened on her hips, my fingers digging into her flesh.

“Lilieth,” I breathed. "Ride me," I commanded. My tone was rough, hoarse, and left no room for argument.

A slow, wicked smile bloomed on her face, a predator acknowledging the challenge in its prey's last, desperate act of defiance.

Instead of obeying, she shifted her weight, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of my torso as she rose, presenting her glistening, soaked core to me.

The sight was a punch to the gut. The lantern light caught the slickness on her folds, painting her in hues of molten gold and deep shadow. She was a feast laid out for a starving man, and the ache in my groin was a physical pain, a desperate, hungry thing.

I thought she would grant my command, that she would sink down onto me and end this sweet torture.

I was wrong.

She positioned herself over my chest, not my hips, her thighs bracketing my ribs. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement that spoke of absolute ownership, she lowered herself onto me.

The first touch was a revelation. Hot, impossibly soft, and so, so wet. The heat of her settled against my chest, a branding iron of pure sensation. Her scent, a heady, intoxicating musk of lavender and raw feminine arousal, filled my lungs, eclipsing everything else. I could feel the subtle give of her flesh against my sternum, the slick glide as she shifted her weight.

My breath hitched, a ragged sound in the sudden silence of the room.

Her hands came to rest on my shoulders, her fingers splaying, her nails pressing lightly into my skin. A small gesture of control that felt like the whole world.

“I told you,” she murmured, her voice a low, husky vibration that I felt more than heard, resonating through her body and into mine. “I mean what I say.”

And then she began to move.

It was a slow, torturous grind. A circular motion of her hips that dragged her slick heat across my chest. Each pass sent a fresh wave of fire through my veins. My skin became a canvas for her pleasure, the friction building a friction of a different kind inside me, a desperate, coiling need.

My hands, which had been gripping her hips, slid up her back, my fingers tracing the delicate line of her spine through the thin silk of her blouse. I wanted to tear it from her, to feel the smooth expanse of her skin against my palms.

This time, I didn't hold back. I ripped her blouse. No, not only her blouse, but also her bra. Her twin peak was now naked.

She let out a soft gasp, not of pain, but of surprised pleasure. Her back arched, pushing her breasts forward, and her movements faltered for a fraction of a second.

That was all the opening I needed.

With a surge of demonic strength, I flipped us.

Suddenly, I was on top, my body blanketing hers, my hips settling between her thighs. The bed groaned under our combined weight.

Her eyes widened, a flash of surprise quickly replaced by a burning, triumphant fire. She wasn't afraid. She was exhilarated. This was the dance, the push and pull.

My gaze devoured her. The light caressed the curves of her breasts, her nipples hardened into tight, pleading beads. The smooth expanse of her stomach, the gentle dip of her navel, the flare of her hips, she was a masterpiece.