Still dazed, Quin wrapped a loose arm around Glyma’s neck and groaned. “I think I passed out for a second.”
“Might have.” Glyma grinned, and Quin released a weak laugh. “Give me a few minutes, and we’ll do that again.”
“I might actually die,” Quin croaked, running her fingers through Glyma’s hair. “When is sex even over?”
“If I have my way, not until neither of us can move anymore,” Glyma purred into her neck, licking at the sweat that had gathered here.
“In that case,” Quin said, gaze dragging down Glyma’s naked body. “I think it’s my turn.”
And would you look at that, Glyma was suddenly wide awake again. “Only if you want to.”
“Trust me.” Flopping onto her side, Quin kissed Glyma’s shoulder, hand teasing tentatively between her legs. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for this.”
As she cupped Quin’s face, Glyma kissed her deeply. “Well, far be it from me to keep you from your life’s ambition. But when you’re done, it’ll be my turn again. I’ve been fantasizing about you riding my face for weeks.”
“Fuck,” Quin breathed the curse, lips whispering over Glyma’s. “You’re not done with me yet?”
And Glyma yanked her down for another kiss. “Oh, baby, I am just getting started.”
Chapter eleven
Breakfast in Bed
Quin
When Quin woke, shewas warm and sated, boneless in a way she’d never experienced before. She was entangled with Glyma’s cooler body, limbs and tails knotted together thoroughly, like the Succubus had feared Quin would try to escape while she slept, so she’d secured her in place to keep her here. Cuddling had never been her favorite—it usually made her feel claustrophobic or trapped—but she didn’t mind so much when it was Glyma at her back.
The sheets smelled like them, their combined scents of nutmeg and cardamom, smoke and scorched earth. And sex. Lots of sex.
Turning her face into the pink pillow, she hid her gleeful smile and hugged Glyma’s arm tighter to her chest. The purple fingerssplayed over her sternum between her breasts twitched, then slid higher to stroke around her neck.
“Good morning,” Glyma purred, and Quin hummed, enjoying the way the base of her horns tingled as the sound of her lover’s voice.
“Is it even still morning?” Quin asked, feeling like they’d slept half the day away already. Granted, they’d stayed up late, so they’d earned a bit of sleeping in, in her opinion.
She felt Glyma shrug. “I don’t know. Don’t really care either.”
Quin snorted, shivering when Glyma nuzzled behind her ear. “Nowhere to be?”
“Nowhere but right here.” Glyma trailed feather-light kisses down Quin’s neck to her shoulder, tiny fangs nipping playfully. “You?”
“There’s a luncheon somewhere, celebrating something I don’t care about,” she said as she angled her head to give Glyma better access. “I don’t think I’ll attend.”
She heard more than saw Glyma’s smile. “Good girl.”
A determined, purple tail wriggled between Quin’s legs, fluffy tuft dusting over her closed petals. It was teasing more than anything, but her blood quickened all the same. She shifted, widening her legs, and Glyma groaned in approval. The hand at Quin’s throat glided down her torso to cup her between her legs, and they both shuddered.
“I love breakfast in bed,” Glyma said with another nip at Quin’s shoulder, and Quin released a breathy laugh. “Do you want to open for me, baby?”
Nodding, Quin relaxed into the mattress and unfolded her fragile petals, granting Glyma entry. Her touch was so light, so gentle, stroking over the gauzy folds, but then the heel of her hand added pressure to Quin’s clits, rubbing in a firm circle. With a whimper of pleasure, Quin rolled her hips into Glyma’s hand, and the Succubus moaned.
Their lovemaking was unrushed and relaxed, Glyma’s fingers teasing shallowly at her entrance. She didn’t push inside until Quin covered her hand with her own and guided two purple fingers into her channel. Penetration wasn’t something Quin usually liked, but she trusted Glyma to be gentle. Reaching back with her other hand, Quin cupped Glyma’s face as she gasped into the pillow, smothering her desperate noises as best she could.
“None of that now,” Glyma chided, tail circling Quin’s neck loosely, prodding at her chin to turn her away from the pillow. “Let me hear you.”
“Fuck!” Quin arched as the heel of Glyma’s hand found a steady rhythm on her clits, fingers curling and stroking inside. “Glym, gods, it… so good.”
“You feel good, too. So wet for me,” she praised, and Quin’s face flamed with embarrassment. Or maybe that was pleasure; she couldn’t quite tell the difference anymore. “Quin, can I—”
