The Muse's Touch

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The Pleasure of a Muse

There was something about Paige Summers that he couldn’t put his finger on. Her call to him was a siren’s song that demanded a response. Never had Davin Murphy, or Shade as she called him, felt any dreamer’s call so keenly.

So when her thoughts of him from the waking world carried to the twilight of dreams as she fell asleep, he called for Katelyn, the only employee he had on duty, to keep an eye on the bookstore while he hurried to his small modest back office. It took less than a minute for him to lock the door and compose himself to slip into the trance he needed to reach Paige in her dreams.

And now she was here right where she belonged: in his lap, wet, ready and more than willing.

“Shade.” This time, his name came accompanied by a whimper of need. He felt his pants tightened, but he refused to give himself the satisfaction just yet. Instead, he scraped a nail up along her inner thigh, enjoying the way she struggled to follow his commands. His little sparrow had a submissive streak to her.

He trailed his hand higher until it hovered just above her dripping sex. The scent was intoxicating and for a moment, he was tempted to abandon all control and throw her on to the bed to devour her. Instead, he slipped his forefinger down her mound, tracing along the outside of her sex, revelling in the way she quivered at his touch.

Paige shifted, forgetting to hold still as her hips rose to increase the pressure of his finger on her slit. Chuckling at such a delightful reaction, he conceded, parting her folds to stroke and tease her entrance. The rumble of frustration he felt vibrating from her chest was even sweeter music to his ears.

His finger stroke upwards and as he found her little nub of pleasure, his other hand trailed up to cup one breast, heavy in his hand. As he kneaded with increasing pressure, his fingers began to circle the sensitive flesh around her clit, poking past its hood now and straining for attention.

A steady stream of moans spilt from her lips as her hips rocked more urgently against his hand. With a wicked grin, he summoned tendrils of invisible rope to bind her hips down to him, limiting her movements further. Paige groaned, body trembling beautifully, so close to the edge. Just a little more, and then he stopped. His game of denial for both of them would make his feast later that much richer.

Paige’s head whipped around, eyes wide with disbelief as she tried to escape her bonds. He had learned that when driven far enough, she would overcome her shyness and attack him like a wild woman. But later would always come the guilt as if the physical aggressiveness was a crime and no amount of coaxing would change her feelings. So he had learned to restrain her when he played and teased. He wanted to leave no negative emotions for her.

“Shade!” Her tone was a mix of need and exasperation. Later, he may have to punish her for it. That would be fun too.

“Yes, little bird?” He batted his lashes at her but could not hide the shit-eating grin on his face, especially when he saw she half wanted to strangle him. “Is there something you need?”

“Yes, you.” Paige hissed the words out. She changed tactics and grounded herself against him, squirming with what limited movements her invisible restraints allowed. Her rear rubbing against his crotch only made his cock harder, straining against his jeans.

Vixen. He groaned and nipped her neck with a growl of warning at the back of his throat. “Be still,” he snapped, his tone brokering no more misbehaviour, and she froze in his lap, only a slight tremor betraying how difficult her body found the order.

He vanished his pants. The tendrils released her now that she was obeying and without another word, he gripped her hips, lifting just enough to guide her on to him. With one swift stroke, he impaled her to the hilt. He needed this.

“Yes, please, please Shade,” Paige whispered as she settled, rocking herself once more. This time he permitted it though he kept one hand on her hip. The other snaked across her lap to seek her clit.

Deft fingers found what he sought. He shifted to take hold the sweet bundle of nerves and began pinching mercilessly as she began to ride him. “That’s it my sparrow, use me. Make yourself come.”

His control, developed through the ages, was his only saving grace as Paige exploded on him, her back arching, head falling back on his shoulder as her lips parted in a wordless scream. Intense pleasure rolled through her as she crested, her inner muscles holding him so tightly he could only manage small thrusts deep inside her.

Davin drank in every bit of her ecstasy, the energy filling him in indescribable ways. It was like sipping liquid sunlight tinged while the scent of lavender surrounded her, all unique to her. The euphoria she produced warmed every part of the demon in him.

Her orgasms were never a short thing. Some women’s only last a few seconds before they grow oversensitive and want nothing more of their lover’s touch. Not Paige. He could prolong a single one of hers for minutes on end and her natural endurance made it such that he could play with her for hours and feast on the succession of climaxes. No one filled him the way she did. He had tried. He still tries. Dependency for a demon was death.

None of that mattered at the moment though as he played her body and listened as her moans became gasps of breaths and her muscles began to loosen.

“My turn.” He held her hips with both hands now, intent on bringing her over the edge again, this time with his cock alone.

And then she disappeared, leaving him with a throbbing hard member, still glistening with her juices.

Davin groaned and rubbed his face roughly. Damn that alarm.

It was an unexpected afternoon snack yet, despite the full belly, he still groaned in frustration as he emerged from the trance. His mind entertained the thought of unzipping his pants and finishing himself off but somehow, it didn’t feel...proper. This was his place of work and his employee was right outside, after all. Maybe even a customer.

An incubus, concerned about propriety. Damn, maybe Finn and the others from his brood was right and he was going native.

He rose from his office chair with a sigh and adjusted himself as best he could. A knock on the door startled him and he cleared his throat. “Just a sec.”

“A Mr Turpin’s here to see you!” Katelyn called out. His preternatural hearing picked up her footsteps as she walked away.

Right. Davin made his way around the desk to the opposite side of the room where he unlocked the glass case that held rare editions of books no longer in print. There was no money in running bookstores anymore, but the modest little one he ran lent him credibility for his other business. His true profit came from finding and obtaining rare and odd books for collectors, transactions half conducted online. Along with the modest sales from the online extension of his store carrying semi-obscure books, he’s rarely had to dip into his savings. And it was a sizable sum. Saving for over thousands of years had given him a nice nest egg.

From the cabinet, he retrieved a thin volume. HP Lovecraft’s The Whispers of Yig. Many knew of his Call of Cthulhu but few knew of the last book the author wrote. It was only half-finished and was turned into a single edition after someone found the incomplete manuscript buried in a drawer. That someone may have been him.

At least it helped take his mind off what he could not finish. By the time he left his office, he had softened enough that the bulge in his pants was no longer so obvious.

“Ah Mr Turpin, I assume?”

A wizened old man turned, his hand rubbing the handle of his cane back and forth. “Mr Murphy?”

The skeptical tone was familiar. His youthful appearance often surprised his customers who came expecting another old man, or maybe at least a younger one with glasses and a bow tie. Nothing like this bad boy model image he knew he projected. All incubi play into certain stereotypes and he was no different.

“Yes, thank you for coming out this way,” Davin replied and with both hands, offered the book to the man who reached out with shaky hands.

“Dear Lord above,” the man whispered with reverence in his voice. Given the subject of the book in the discussion, Davin wasn’t sure if the exclamation was appropriate but he held his tongue.

“Thank you,” Mr Turpin whispered, then cleared his throat. “Thank you again, Mr Murphy.” He set his cane aside and opened the briefcase he had left on the bookstore’s counter. With light hands, he placed the book inside then withdrew an envelope from his jacket. “As agreed.”

Davin took the envelope in both hands and peered inside at the thick stack of hundred-dollar bills then nodded even as Mr Turpin snapped his briefcase closed. “Pleasure doing business. If there’s anything else you’re interested in, please don’t be afraid to call.”

“Of course.” The old man waved, then picking up his cane, turned to make his way out of the shop. Davin walked him out and opened the door for the man as he saw him off.

The door closed once more with a tinkling of a bell.

“I don’t know why you even have this store. Our sales make only a fraction of what you make with these collectors and it barely covers its own rent,” Katelyn muttered.

“Ah but that’s the fun part of all of this.” Davin threw his arms out wide and winked then turned and waved the envelope in the air. “I’m heading to the bank to deposit this. Call me if something comes up.”

“Yeah yeah, have fun, boss.”

Davin drew in a breath of fresh air as he stepped outside, in better cheer than he ought to be in, especially after being cock-blocked by an alarm. But at least he got was an extra meal today.

The bank was not far but halfway there, his mobile rang, humming to a violin version of The Boys are Back in Town.

“Hey, Finn.”

“Hey bro. What’re you up to?”

“Just closed a find. Heading to the bank.”

“You and your money. I seriously don’t get it. It’s not like you need it.”

“Ah, but the work is fun. Got to keep things interesting after all these years.” Davin chuckled at the age-old argument. Before the bookstore, it was a restaurant a century or so back.

“Sure Dav. Whatever you say. Anyway, speaking of fun, Dante and I are heading over to check out that new bar on Fourth tonight. You in?”

Davin hesitated. That had the potential to cut into his Sparrow time.

“Dav, come on. Don’t tell me you still prefer to go around feeding by prancing through bored housewives’ wet dreams. After so long, don’t you crave a real taste?”

His brows knitted together in a frown. “Finn, you know I don’t feed that way anymore.”

“Are you still hung up on Anna? Let it go.”

“Finn.” His voice deepened with a warning then he sighed. “Is it a hunt then?”

“Maybe, if the place is hot enough.”

“Fine, I’ll wingman you guys but don’t expect me to join the feed.”

“Thanks, man, you’re the best.”

“Yeah yeah. And hey, I don’t prance.”

Finn laughed from the other end. “See ya at eight tonight.”

With that, they both hung up. Davin stared at his phone and shook his head. It was almost unheard of for a brood of higher-level demons like the incubi to be on friendly terms, much less act as a pack. They didn’t start out that way. But modernization bringing concepts like feminism and the MeToo movement was making the hunt harder. They had to evolve to adapt. No longer can they steal into a house and have their way with someone. No, they had to be more creative, make them willingly invite them to their beds. Not that it took much more effort and Davin had never liked nor subscribed to the old ways. Seduction was too much fun.

Finn had started it, calling up all their brothers and sisters. Including himself, they were six strong. At first, they were wary of each other but through the millennia, they had learned to trust and lean on each other. Although none of them knew what had happened to their mother, they were still the best family a demon could hope for.

Though sometimes that meant obligations. Davin huffed a sigh. It was going to be a long frustrating night.

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