Page 46 of His Incubus Husband

The guest rooms were only just down the hallway.

He should be more careful.

He lifted the tray again and set it back. The clatter bounced off the walls.

Biting his lip, Tino refilled the first, then the second, then the third decanter.

He could hear the soft steps on the plush carpet but pretended not to. Instead, he bent down to put the bottle back into the cabinet. He felt the lace on his ass stretch where it was wet and sticky. The pungent smell of his slick surrounded him like a cloud.

The steps came closer. He straightened the decanters into a neat row then studied the next engraving.

A heavy breath. Another soft step.

Who was it?

The general? Or the minister of justice? It couldn’t be the bishop. The young alpha wouldn’t breathe so loudly.

“Can I have a drink?” The voice came from right behind him. Inches away.

The general.

Tino tensed, clutching the edge of the bar. It was easy to pretend to be scared when he was so keyed up.

“Sir?”

“Will you pour me a drink?”

He could sense depraved lust coming off the alpha in waves.

“O-of course, s-sir. Which one?”

“I don’t care.”

Tino picked a glass and opened the first decanter.

A lone finger traced the edge of his shorts, across his ass cheek. “Where is Oswald, hmm? Did he leave you to wander around alone?”

“My husband is asleep. But I wanted to make sure the decanters were full in case our guests had trouble sleeping.”

The general caressed his ass lightly, crowding him from behind. The alpha’s hot breath washed over Tino’s naked shoulder.

“Such a well-behaved, caring husband you are, yet so young. He’s lucky.”

Tino poured the drink and put the decanter back. He was about to turn around and hand the general his glass, but the older man suddenly pressed him against the counter, caging him in with his beefy arms.

A hard alpha dick pushed against Tino’s lower back through the material of the general’s pants.

“Your hole stinks all over this damn house.”

Tino suppressed a moan.

The general smelled faintly of sweat. The musk of his arousal permeated his clothes.

“Were you a virgin when he married you?”

“Yes,” Tino lied smoothly.

“That lucky fucker.” A wet tongue lapped at the side of Tino’s neck. “But you’re not a virgin anymore, are you? Instead, you’re roaming the house dressed like a whore while your husband is asleep.”