Page 16 of The Incubus's Angel
Tilly continues, “If someone gives you their arousal, as in rewards you with it, if you will, it could intensify your own pleasure. I can’t say that I know what that would feel like for an incubus, but even as someone simply in a relationship, sharing your sexual energy is a gift.” Tilly winces before she continues, “Sorry if this is sounding like some kind of lecture you didn’t want to hear, but what I mean to say is that if you’re not used to this kind of intense sexual energy, it might be overwhelming. So just prepare yourself because it’ll not only be a physical shift, but also a mental shift in your life to become sexually active as an incubus.”
“I can imagine, yeah. Actually…” My words get stuck in my throat, but pulling on the last of my reserves I find myself saying, “Something happened recently. I, uhm, there was this creature who maybe accidentally gave me their arousal. I’m not sure how it happened.”
“Are you okay?”
I’m unable to stop the crooked grin from lifting one corner of my mouth and my tail twitches in agreement. “Yeah. I was out walking and then I heard my name. It was purely coincidental that our paths crossed while they were pleasuring themselves. But… I felt their arousal. It almost felt like it became my own.”
“That could be quite overwhelming if neither of you were prepared. What did they say?”
“They don’t know yet,” I choke out.
There’s no judgment in Tilly’s tone, but there is an edge of warning. “Well, maybe that’s a discussion you should have. But regarding the arousal you felt, that seems about right from what I’ve read.”
My head perks up. “It does?”
“If they were masturbating to thoughts of you, then they basically gifted you their pleasure. You were the source of their arousal. Even if you weren’t physically involved, the fact that you were on their mind means they intended to be connected to you. And therefore gave you that sexual energy. Did you feel energized after?”
I huff out a laugh. “So much. I hardly needed to sleep.”
Tilly’s gaze darts around somewhere behind me, her brain clearly connecting dots that I’m slowly starting to see myself too. “Considering that response, I’d wager to say that if you have regular sex I expect you’d be bouncing around your cottage. Lethargy would be a thing of the past. No more naps needed.And I think your skin would be glowing. Wouldn’t surprise me if you didn’t need your glasses either.”
“Seriously?” I ask, disbelief and perhaps even a hint of excitement coloring my tone.
“Yeah. There are lots of health benefits to creatures tapping into their biological needs. So if you’re gifted with someone else’s sexual energy, then I suspect I won’t be seeing much of you in the clinic going forward. That’s to say you’re always welcome. And we’d love to have you over for dinner at the cottage sometime too. But maybe not too soon since the sexual energy is a little intense right now at home.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I say, feeling lighter and hopeful for the first time.
Leaving the clinic, the scrap of paper with the agency’s website feels like it’s burning a hole in my pocket. I’m adamant about getting better, and since I’m already on this mission of pushing myself out of my comfort zone, I might as well fling myself out of it at this point. But it’s not easy.
I replay the entire conversation in my head as I walk down First Street and head home, only to be yanked back into reality at the sound of my name.
“Ren!” Maisie gallops out of The Flowering Teapot with a giant grin stretching from ear to ear. I hadn’t even realized I was passing the café.
She looks beautiful. Actually, she looks radiant. Her eyes twinkle with genuine joy as she charges toward me, the wisteria climbing along the café’s stone facade a perfect purple backdrop to complement her delicate features.
My lips find no resistance in answering her friendly greeting with an echoing smile. “Hey, Maisie.”
“What a surprise! It’s so good to see you!” she says and reaches for my hand, squeezing it with what I think is affection. “Have you had lunch? Come in. I just took some pies out of the oven. And guess what? The cake I made last week, I added some cloves to it and a dash of cinnamon. It turned out so good that Aunt Annamae said I should offer it at The Flowering Teapot. Do you want some of that too? There’s only one slice left,” she adds with disbelief.
I, however, can totally believe it. I’m so proud of her. Happy for her. She deserves to be recognized for her hard work and talent.
“I, uhm…” I try to think of an excuse to get back home, but I find myself wanting to stay so I can spend more time with her. But out in the middle of town? That’s hard.
“Come on. You can sit up by the counter and I can keep you company while you have lunch. My treat,” Maisie says, hooking her arm into mine and semidragging me toward the door. My feet can’t help but obey this tornado of sunshine.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been in Starry Hill’s café and bakery, but it’s just as charming now as the first time I saw it. And, thankfully, empty except for us.
A variety of bright flowers sit in vases on the mismatched wooden tables. Plants dangle from the ceiling, twist up the support beams, and ferns climb up the walls. It’s the love child of a talented dryad.
Maisie reaches into the display case, then pops her head back up with a guilty expression on her face, withdrawing her handslowly. “Sorry, I was just going to hand you a pie without asking you what you’d like, but it’s much better manners to at least give you the choice. Today’s fresh bakes are steak, ale, and blue cheese; beef, whiskey, and peppercorn; chicken, bacon, and leek; braised pork, cider, and chorizo; fish and prawn; and cottage pie.”
I flash her a quick grin to show I don’t mind her choosing for me. “What do you recommend? I’d take whatever you say is good.”
Maisie shoots me a grateful look, her eyes softening with something that makes my stomach swoop. “Uncle Richard perfected all these pie recipes and I can attest to their superior flavor combinations—except the fish and prawn. I, of course, don’t know what that tastes like, but I’m sure it’s great too. I was going to give you the beef, whiskey, and peppercorn pie, but it might not be your cup of tea.”
“One of those, please. I trust you.”
Tucking her lips between her teeth, Maisie tries to hide how much she likes that I have confidence in her choices, but the way color rises right underneath her freckles gives her away.
