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BOUND AND SOAKED: THE INCUBUS’S WET WITCH 1
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2025-06-16 18:32:47
Siemuri DaniellaEach night the incubus visits her in dreams, making her cum without laying a single finger on her. She wakes up soaked and trembling but untouched. He’s always watching, always waiting, always edging her toward madness. But how long can he resist before breaking the rules and touching her for real?
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THRUSTS AND TEMPTATIONS [Steamy and Short Eroticas) BOUND AND SOAKED: THE INCUBUS’S WET WITCH 1
The library was silent but I wasn’t alone. I couldn’t see him and yet I felt him. His breath didn’t stir the air but it stirred something inside me. My thighs clenched without permission and my pulse slowed to a low dangerous thrum. “I’m not even touching you,” he said, though I hadn’t spoken. “And yet…” And yet I was already wet and aching and trembling. “Hoc vis, nonne?” he asked again and this time it wasn’t a question. He asked me if I wanted this. I hated how my hips tilted forward in response and how my body betrayed me before my mind could resist. He hadn’t touched me even once but every cell in my body felt him. Like his voice curled down my spine and slid between my legs. My nipples peaked. My breath caught. My thighs shivered open just enough for him to see me glistening. “You don’t need fingers,” he murmured and I felt the words stroke across my inner thigh. “You don’t need cock. You just need to listen.” “No,” I whispered but it came out broken and weak.
THRUSTS AND TEMPTATIONS [Steamy and Short Eroticas) THE ART OF FUCKING ME SLOWLY 6
My pulse stopped. “Damien?” “Yeah?” he asked as he pulled back. My body trembled in frustration. “Don’t stop,” I whispered. He looked surprised for a moment but lowered his head and kissed me on my pussy. A gasp escaped my lips. It was just wor…. “Mhmm,” I moaned as his tongue moved over my lips. He licked me again and again until I spread my legs wider. Another gasp slipped from my mouth as he tasted me and groaned against my pussy. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” I said, struggling to breathe. His tongue moved over my clit again and I moaned louder. “You were saying?” he asked. I gripped the sheets and lifted my hips. His mouth moved with purpose and every stroke of his tongue pulled another sound from me. I clenched around nothing and arched into him and tried to hold back but I couldn’t. My legs shook as he sucked on my clit and I reached for his hair. He groaned again and the vibration made me cry out. I didn’t recognize my voice. It was need and it was heat and it was ev
THRUSTS AND TEMPTATIONS [Steamy and Short Eroticas) THE ART OF FUCKING ME SLOWLY 5
I kicked him out. Well, not actually. I pulled away, and he got the message. Then he invited me to his studio again, of course. I accepted. Only a fool with dreams of becoming a popular artist would turn down an opportunity to be featured in Damien’s work. I got there around noon. The receptionist looked like she had seen a ghost when I walked in. Then a sad expression passed over her face. I nodded at her in greeting as I walked past toward Damien’s studio. I knocked once before going in. “Finally. I’ve been missing your presence,” he said as soon as I stepped inside. I thought the kiss would have made things awkward, but it didn’t. He pulled me into a tight hug. He looked drained, like he hadn’t slept all night. “You good?” I asked. “I wasn’t. But now that you’re here, I’m better,” he said and pressed a kiss to my cheek. There were five empty coffee cups on the table. “You drank all that?” I asked. “Yes. I stayed up all night. Look what I did,” he said, pointing at the new
THRUSTS AND TEMPTATIONS [Steamy and Short Eroticas) THE ART OF FUCKING ME SLOWLY 4
The woman from last night stepped in like she owned the place. She didn’t look at Damien. She looked straight at me.I thought she was just a scorned woman looking for Damien’s attention. What if she was his wife? My stomach dropped. It was just art between us but I couldn’t help the sting of guilt.“What the fuck are you doing here?” she asked again, one brow raised, mouth curled with disgust.I blinked, unsure if I was supposed to answer.Damien didn’t flinch. “She’s here because I invited her.”Beverly turned to him, slow and sharp. “Since when do you invite groupies into the studio?”“She’s not a groupie,” he said flatly.Beverly looked at me again, eyes dragging over my body like she was scanning for flaws. Her gaze paused at my face and stayed there a second too long.“You’ve got to be kidding,” she muttered.I didn’t speak. I didn’t need to. I stepped aside and picked up my bag.Damien moved in front of me, blocking her view.“She’s a fellow artist. And my muse.”Beverly let ou
THRUSTS AND TEMPTATIONS [Steamy and Short Eroticas) THE ART OF FUCKING ME SLOWLY 3
He came in with coffee and a small paper bag that smelled like pastries, and he set them down beside his brushes like they mattered just as much.He didn’t speak right away. He just looked at me.Not like someone checking out a body. Not like that. He looked at me like he was trying to see if I was still here, if I had changed my mind in the silence.“I didn’t think you’d stay,” he said.“I almost didn’t,” I replied.“Why did you?”I shrugged and glanced at the canvas. “Curiosity, maybe.”“Curiosity is dangerous.”“So is art.”That made him smile. A real smile, soft and warm, like it slipped out before he could stop it. He picked up his brush again but didn’t return to the canvas.The silence between us grew thicker, but not heavy. It felt full. Full of everything we hadn’t said yet.“You hold yourself like you’re trying not to be noticed,” he murmured.I laughed under my breath. “I thought I held myself like I wanted to be remembered.”“Maybe both,” he said.He started to paint.“Do
THRUSTS AND TEMPTATIONS [Steamy and Short Eroticas) THE ART OF FUCKING ME SLOWLY 2
I stared at the card in my hand long after I got home. It sat on my dresser like it had weight, like it carried questions I was not ready to ask. I had undressed, but I could still smell the woman’s drink on my dress, and I could still hear her voice. I could still feel the way her shoulder slammed into mine, as if she had every right to push me aside.Even now, the next morning, I could not shake it off. I wanted to forget her, but I could not. I wanted to forget his eyes too, but they were harder to erase. The way he looked at me made me feel seen and owned and dissected all at once, and I hated how much I liked it.I told myself I would not go. I reminded myself that muses were disposable, and that artists chased beauty until they burned it out. I stood in front of the mirror and wanted to put on something safe, but I reached for the low-cut blouse and paired it with jeans and boots instead. I tucked my hair behind my ears and left it down, and I painted my lips while trying not to
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