"You know how much you made the casino last month?" I whisper, catching one sleeve with my fangs and tugging it free."You run numbers better than any of those twats in the old casino and at Dad’s work. You built a scam trick that fleeces rich tourists blind, and none of them even notice they’re getting robbed, that’s hot, Cherry. That’s stupidly hot."
Her whole face goes red, ears folding back, and she makes this strangled little noise like she wants to argue but she’s too embarrassed to answer after the word "hot."
"I just- I just made sure everything ran better, but that’s not sexy. It’s just math and training."
"Everything you do is sexy." I get the coat off and toss it somewhere behind me, not caring where it lands. Underneath, she’s got that compression gear on her legs, the hem of her simple black dress hiked up around her thighs from a long day at the desk.
Holy shit. The line between ’competent casino manager’ and ’about to get railed on the couch’ is thinner than I thought. And I am one hundred per cent here for it.
I start working on the zipper next, unhooking, unwrapping, and she’s squirming under my scales the whole time like she can’t decide if she wants to bolt or melt into the cushions.
I start working on the zipper next, unhooking, unwrapping, and she’s squirming under my scales the whole time like she can’t decide if she wants to bolt or melt into the cushions.
"Matt, I’m not- I didn’t shower yet. I’ve been running around the casino all day; I probably smell like printer toner and grease."
"You smell like money and profit margins," I hiss, dead serious. "Which, for the record, is my new favourite smell."
She squeals again, hands flying to cover her face, so I loop my tail around her wrists, gently pulling them back down so I can actually see her.
"None of that, I want to watch your face."
"Watch my face for what?"
"For this." I settle back on my long, scaled body, tail curling loose around one of the couch legs, anchoring myself. "We’re breaking this couch in tonight. Properly, and I’ve got a new skill I’ve been dying to try on you."
Her eyes go wide, colour shifting somewhere between gold and violet, the succubus flicker starting to show through the shy stammering.
"A-a new skill?"
"Mm-hm." I lean in close, let my forked tongue flick out just enough to taste the air off her skin, and she shivers head to toe. "I love how you don’t rush me, so I can take in this beautiful body. God, you are perfect."
"But first, we need to talk about the other day."
"What- what other day?"
"The day I was balls-deep in Lyra on the bedroom door," I tease, watching her face very carefully, "and you thought I didn’t notice you on the other side of the door with your hand down your panties."
"I’m playing with fire. The kind of fire that might get me stabbed, or worse, get me a lecture. But her reaction, that flash of pure, undiluted panic, is worth every single risk."
The sound she makes is not a squeak this time. It’s lower, strangled, somewhere between horror and something a lot needier.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just passing by; I wasn’t listening."
"You sat there for four minutes, Cherry." I trail my tail-tip down her sternum, slow, watching her back arch into it despite herself.
A while ago, my entire body wasn’t this long. Now my tail alone is a weapon, a limb, a tool for this exact kind of pressure.
"I counted, with every thrust, I could hear your wet fingers... You liked listening. You liked it a lot."
Her breath catches. She turns her face away, jaw tight, like that’s going to help anything.
"Look at me."
She doesn’t.
I curl my tail up under her chin and tip it back toward me. Her eyes are wet at the corners, not crying, just overwhelmed, and she’s a bit of a brat that hates being told she’s been caught. There’s a difference, and I know it.
This tail used to be the width of a phone charger. Now it’s thick enough to bench-press her. She doesn’t even know how much I’ve grown. Hell, I barely know.
"There’s nothing wrong with it," I murmur. "That’s not why I stopped you."
"Then why did you open the door?"
"Because you were going to sneak off and pretend it didn’t happen." I keep my voice even. "And I didn’t want that."
She swallows. Her throat moves under my tail, and I feel it.
"You could have just said something," she says, quieter now.
The defensiveness is bleeding out of her. What’s left underneath is softer and she doesn’t quite know what to do with it.
"I’m saying something now."
And what I’m not saying is that hearing her out there, so close, made something deep in my coils twist. Not jealousy. Something else, the thought of her just sneaking away after... no, not happening. Mine.
Her fingers curl against the cushions at her sides. She’s not pulling away; she stopped doing that about a minute ago, actually, even if she hasn’t admitted it to herself yet.
"This is embarrassing, I’ll be good, please," Cherry mumbles.
"But I like it when you’re bad?"
I lean in close enough that she has to look at me.
It’s a good feeling, this. Having her cornered, flushed, every wall she puts up just another thing for me to knock down. The old me would have apologised a dozen times by now. This me? I want to see her break.
"Cherry. Did you like what you heard? Liked listening to me fuck Lyra hard against the door?"
Her chin lifts slightly, some last reflex of pride.
Her horn stumps are practically vibrating now, and her voice drops half an octave when she finally answers, that dominant undertone creeping in even as her cheeks stay flushed crimson.
"Maybe I did."
"Were you sad your fingers weren’t going deep enough?"
Cherry makes a tiny, trapped sound, her teeth catching her lower lip.
Little red string who couldn’t fight a roach. Now I’m breaking couches and breaking Cherry, and nothing can touch me, nothing.
"Yeah." A low, satisfied hiss escapes me, the vibration running through my own coils. I feel entirely too pleased with myself.
"That’s what I thought, naughty girl."
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