“Tu es à l’aise?” he purred, then paused a beat before translating. “Are you comfortable?”
“Define ‘comfortable,’” I muttered, shifting under the slow, maddening pressure of his toes. “But… yes.”
Another flash of that dazzling grin. “Bien.”
He turned from me, trailing heat in his wake, and walked to the end of my body. I followed his every step with my eyes, tracing the curve of his ass and the lines of those long, lean legs.
“All the incubi in the world,” I grumbled, “and I end up with another damn Frenchie. Do you know how long Colette’s been torturing me with this shit? Centuries. Now she’s turned you against me too.”
Zephyr snickered, then bent. Backward. Arching toward me in a perfect back bridge—slow, theatrical,obscene in its grace—and landing with his palms flat on the floor on either side of my hips. His face hovered inches from my cock.
I swallowed as my erection stiffened to full attention.
“Do you understand yet?” he asked, voice low and velvety.
“I think I’ve got the picture.”
He tilted his head, looking impish. No, make that devilish, in the best possible way.
“Good,” he hummed. “Because I’m hungry, Daddy. Can you feed me?”
I ran a hand down my face, already sweating. “For fuck’s sake. You’re turning that word into a goddamn weapon.”
This wasn’t the Zephyr who’d once looked at me like I was his last hope. This wasn’t shy or desperate. This was bold. Teasing. In control, in his element, and thoroughly enjoying the wreck he was making of me.
And hell, it was so much better.
Because this time, it was for him. Not survival. Not obligation. Just… him. Wanting. Choosing. Playing.Loving.
Rather than reply, he opened his mouth and let his tongue loll out. Shiny wet and pink, it was the clearest invitation he could have offered. His eyes never left mine while his expression remained sedate and certain.
He knew I wouldn’t say no. I never had.
A groan rumbled up from deep in my chest. I reached down and shoved at the waistband of my briefs, pushing them low enough to free my cock and balls. My erection sprang up, flushed and straining. A glossy bead of precum slicked the tip.
Zephyr lowered himself with his tongue outstretcheduntil his mouth closed around my crown. I groaned and leaned back, then I watched him descend on me.
His gaze was intense, even now while he made a game of foreplay and chattered at me in his native language. Sex was sustenance to him, which meant he saw and felt things differently than I did. Every roll of his tongue, each gluttonous swallow, was proof of that. It was erotic, intimate, and heady to be used in this way. Utterly consumed.
He was as voracious as ever, hollowing his cheeks, pulling deep and wet while spit spilled down my shaft and soaked the curls at my base. It was messy. Lewd. Beautiful.
I lost track of his eyes as he sank down, swallowing me inch by inch until his face disappeared between my legs. The tight, wet heat of his throat clenched around me, and I stared, watching for the bulge of my cock in his neck as he took me all the way.
He dipped and rose in a steady rhythm, his body curved in a perfect half-moon, arms and legs extended. His hair brushed the backs of my thighs, a soft contrast to the ruthless suction of his mouth.
It was a visual feast, but I wanted more. I wanted tohavehim. Stretch him open. Fold him in half. I wanted to put bruises on his hips from the force of my grip. Leave marks. Make him mine.
“Mmm…” I hummed, then swallowed roughly. “Beauty?”
He pulled off with a wet pop, still upside down, eyes wide and gleaming with lust.
I stared down at him, breath ragged. “I want to flip you over and fuck you so hard you forget you ever belonged to anyone else.”
His pupils flared, pink lips parted, breath coming fast.
“I want to hear you beg,” I continued. “Not becauseyou’re starving, but because you’re full and still greedy. I want to ruin you and watch you glow after.”
He whimpered, the sound too needy to be innocent, and pressed his cheek to my thigh like he couldn’t quite hold himself up anymore.
