Page 22 of The Incubus's Angel
I quickly snap a few pictures, taking close-up shots to get the details of the effort she put into the design. I get shots of the pecans and candied tangerines neatly arranged on top of the coconut cream, shots of the layers of the cake—divided into perfect ratios—and without really meaning to, I zoom out and take a picture of Maisie in the background of her creation.
It’s a beautiful day outside. The sapphire ocean sparkles in the distance, fragrant white daisies dot the rolling hills around us, and voluminous clouds hover high above us in the powder-blue sky. But Maisie steals the limelight. She’s more beautiful than any of these sights combined.
Unable to resist, I snap a few more shots of her, zooming in on the delicate freckles feathered across the bridge of her nose, on a golden curl caressing her jaw, and on the daffodil-yellow strap of her dress across her collarbone.
“Did you just take a picture of me?” she asks, not sounding mad, but perhaps a little surprised.
“Maybe?”
“Next time tell me so I can give you my good angles,” she jokes with arms stretched above her head in an exaggerated pose.
I huff a laugh and put down my camera. “Don’t worry. I got them.”
Maisie pauses and puts a hand on her chest. “That was smooth.”
Eyes flitting back and forth, I try to think about what I said that’s got her impressed. “It was?”
“Oh yeah,” she says huskily. “You made my heart flutter there for a moment.”
I push my glasses higher on my nose. “Sorry?”
“Never apologize for that.” There’s a breathless quality in Maisie’s voice that has my senses perking up. Something about her vivid reaction to a simple sentence has me curious about what else she would respond to so keenly.
Feeling playful, I counter with, “Okay. I take my apology back then.”
“Fuck, Ren. You’ve got some serious game hiding under that shyness.” Maisie fans herself and I enjoy the blush stealing across her cheeks.
“I do?” I ask, with a little bit of pride seeping into my bones.
“Yeah. But before you’ve got me all buttered up, did you make a decision?”
I make sure to look directly in her eyes when I answer, “Yes. Teach me. Please.”
Maisie’s chest lifts with a big inhale, and her eyes gleam with what I think is excitement. Her lips curl up and a trace of arousal prickles at my senses.Is she turned on at the thought of teaching me?
She squares her shoulders and her voice turns uncharacteristically stoic. “Good. How about we lay some ground rules while I cut the cake? I want you to tell me any boundaries you have, any hard or soft limits. Like, are there any parts of your body you don’t want me to touch?”
“I, uhm…”How do I verbalize the insecurities about my cock? I don’t think she’s ever seen an incubus’s cock before, so she’ll be in for one big surprise. Maybe I should hold off and do other stuff before I freak her out.
“I’ll go first.” Cutting into the tangerine dream of a cake, Maisie raises her brows at me to see if I’m okay with her speakingfirst, which I obviously am, so I nod and gesture for her to continue. “Let’s see… My list of things I don’t like is very short. I don’t like my head being held down if I’m sucking your cock. That’s about it. Other than that, you can touch me wherever you want, however you want, even choke me a little. And all holes are fair play. Just don’t push my head down.”
“I’d never!” I say, aghast that she even has to say that to me.
An anger I’ve never felt rises up within me and floods my veins. The mere thought that someone had even touched her in a way she didn’t want to be touched has a bestial instinct raging within me to get up right now and search for the creature and bring down my fury on them.
Fuck. Where did that emotion come from?
Maisie’s hand holding my plate pauses on the way toward me, a deep crease marring her brows. “Are you okay?”
I take the plate from her and incline my head in thanks. “Yeah. I’m just… angry that someone did something you didn’t like. I promise to be careful.”
Maisie’s eyes soften as understanding dawns and she shakes her head. “You really don’t have to be careful with me. You can be quite rough actually. If you want to.” Before I have to come up with a response to that, she asks, “Is it okay if I sit next to you? I feel so far away on this side.”
“Sure.” I move over to give her some space, but I’m not confident that this blanket was made for two adults to sit side by side.
Maisie doesn’t seem to mind, though. Her shoulder presses against mine, comfortably so, and she crisscrosses her legs, letting part of her thigh rest on mine.
I’ve never been touchy-feely with others, but there’s something so easy with Maisie, so natural, that I almost want to wrap my arm around her and pull her against me.
