Succubus Feast

"Fuck... Rachel... I'm gonna—"

Jason collapsed on top of me, his hips stuttering faster, sloppier.

I locked my legs around his waist, nails digging into his back. "Don't stop... right there..."

But he wasn't listening.

"Shit... I can't..." He slammed in one last time, then melted into dead weight, crushing me like a pile of wet laundry.

Fuck. Again.

I stared at the ceiling. Warm liquid filled the condom while that burning ache between my legs—instead of fading—intensified.

"Baby... that was amazing..." Jason panted into my neck.

I shoved him off. "Get off."

He rolled aside, peeled off the condom and tossed it on the nightstand, sprawled out with that smug "I'm fucking incredible" look plastered across his face.

I sat up. Wet between my thighs, but that hollow emptiness made me want to punch something.

Less than ten minutes. Again. Only cared about getting himself off. Again.

"Jason," I turned to look at him, "we're done."

"What?" His eyes shot open. "Are you fucking serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" I climbed out of bed, walked naked toward the bathroom.

"Rachel!" Jason jumped up, his dick still half-limp and swinging. "We just fucked! You're breaking up with me now?"

"Yeah, because you 'just fucked.'" I leaned against the bathroom doorframe, eyes dropping to his crotch. "Eight minutes, Jason. From penetration to ejaculation. Eight minutes."

His face flushed crimson. "I worked overtime until midnight! You could at least—"

"Be understanding?" I laughed coldly. "I've been understanding for three months. 'Too tired today' 'Early meeting tomorrow' 'Stressful week.'" I started gathering my clothes from the floor. "Then when we finally do it, you skip foreplay entirely and blow your load in less than ten strokes?"

"You fucking—" Jason trembled with rage.

"I what?" I pulled on my dress, fastened my bra, grabbed my purse. "I have a high sex drive? I'm too demanding?" I flashed him a perfect smile. "Then you should be grateful I'm letting you go. Because honestly, sweetheart—"

My gaze dropped to his pathetic, limp dick again.

"—you can't even come close to satisfying me."

"You fucking slut—"

The door slammed shut before he finished.

I walked to the elevator, pressed the button. The doors opened. I stepped inside, leaned against the mirrored wall.

The reflection showed messy hair, smudged lipstick, wrinkled dress. Worst part? Still wet between my legs, that unsatisfied hunger burning in my lower belly like hot coals.

Fuck, this sucked.

The elevator stopped at the lobby. I walked through the hotel entrance. A group of suited men passed by; one stared a beat too long. I raised an eyebrow at him. He looked away immediately.

Pathetic.

In the cab home, I slumped in the backseat. The wetness between my thighs reminded me tonight had been another spectacular failure. Outside, neon lights flickered over couples walking hand-in-hand. Annoying.

Back at my apartment, I threw my bag in the entryway, kicked off my heels, collapsed onto the couch.

Second guy this month who "couldn't handle it." Last week Mark said "Rachel, you're too much" then blocked me.

Please. Three, four times a week is too much? They're just weak.

I grabbed my phone, scrolled irritably.

Modern men had the shelf life of milk. Boring conversation, no stamina, dead fish in bed.

I needed fresh blood. Something exciting, wild, heart-racing.

That's when a black-and-gold app ad popped up on my screen—MythosMatch: Find Your Destined Soulbond.

The interface looked high-end, none of those greasy selfie profiles. Just artistic totems and a tagline: "For the exceptional few. Extraordinary experiences only."

"Interesting." I raised an eyebrow and hit download. Might as well kill time, see what garbage this thing would match me with.

Registration was simple—just a fingerprint scan. When my finger touched the screen, a faint electric pulse traveled up my arm. The screen bloomed with a glowing green mandala.

[Match Found: Elandil. Distance: 0.5 km]

A profile picture appeared.

Holy shit.

Silver hair, deep emerald eyes, silk white shirt unbuttoned to the third button, collarbones sharp enough to kill. Coldly elegant yet radiating a "ruin me" energy.

I tapped [Say Hi]: "Hey handsome, alone tonight?"

Instant reply: "I'm at the bar downstairs from you. If you're interested, come down for a drink."

Straightforward. I liked it.

Thirty minutes later, I found Elandil in a dim corner booth.

He was taller than his photo—over six-three. When he looked at me, a scent like cold cedar and morning dew cut through the bar's alcohol haze.

"Rachel?" His voice was low, almost ethereal.

"That's me." I slid in next to him, my thigh brushing against his dress pants. Heat seeped through the fabric. I felt his muscles tense instantly.

Two drinks later, we stopped pretending.

"Your place or mine?" I asked directly.

"Yours." His hand was already on my waist. "Closer."

We left the bar, headed straight for my building.

The elevator doors closed. He slammed me against the mirrored wall.

His kiss was vicious—tongue forcing past my teeth, claiming my mouth without permission. I hooked my arms around his neck, bit back just as hard. Two predators devouring each other.

His hand slid up my dress, palm scorching hot, pressing directly against my lace panties—still wet.

"Fuck..." I gasped, hips grinding instinctively into his palm.

"Already wet." He murmured against my ear, fingers rubbing through the thin fabric. "From earlier?"

"Does it matter?" I panted, grinding harder against his hand.

The elevator dinged. We practically fell into my apartment.

Clothes scattered from the entryway to the bedroom. I ripped two buttons off his shirt. He tore the side zipper of my dress.

By the time we crashed onto the bed, I wore nothing but soaked black lace panties.

Elandil knelt between my legs, long fingers hooking the waistband, dragging them down slowly. Fabric scraped against my inner thighs, sending shivers up my spine.

"Spread them." His voice was low, commanding.

I obeyed.

Without warning, his fingers plunged inside. Two. Straight to the deepest point.

"Ah—" I arched violently, fists clutching the sheets.

"So tight." He started moving, fingers pumping in and out, each thrust hitting that spot that made me see stars. "And so fucking wet."

"Fuck... don't stop..." My voice trembled.

He didn't. Faster and faster, his other hand pressed down on my lower belly while his thumb circled that swollen, sensitive nub.

Pleasure surged through me like electricity. I bit my lip, trying not to scream.

Just as I approached the edge, he withdrew his fingers.

"What the fuck—" I glared at him, desperate and furious.

"Not yet." He licked his fingers clean, emerald eyes glinting dangerously in the dark. "I want to feel you come around me."

Then he stripped off his pants.

Fuck.

He was huge. Thick, long, tip already glistening.

"Ready?" He positioned himself at my entrance, rubbing against it, not entering yet.

"Stop teasing—" Before I finished, he slammed in.

"Fuck!" I screamed.

Too big, too deep, stretched impossibly full, almost splitting me in half.

Elandil didn't give me time to adjust. He started thrusting immediately. His hips slammed against mine, each stroke hitting the deepest point, shoving me up the bed.

"Too deep... ah... slow down..." I clawed at his arms, nails breaking skin.

"You can take it." He gripped my waist, pulling me onto him. "You wanted more, didn't you?"

He was right.

I did want more.

His rhythm accelerated, harder, rougher. The bed frame creaked violently. My moans grew louder—didn't care if the neighbors heard.

"Right there... yes... fuck yes..." I wrapped my arms around his neck, legs locking around his waist, letting him go deeper.

He buried his face in my neck, hot breath spilling across my skin. Silver hair cascaded down, brushing my face, carrying that intoxicating cedar scent.

"You feel so good..." His voice was ragged. "So fucking perfect..."

Pleasure built in waves. That familiar tension coiled tight in my lower belly.

"I'm close... don't stop... please don't stop..." My voice dissolved into begging.

"Come for me." He slammed faster, one hand reaching between us, thumb pressing hard on that swollen nub, grinding.

That did it.

Orgasm hit like a tsunami, drowning every sense. I screamed, body convulsing, clenching rhythmically around him still pounding inside me.

Vision blurred. Ears ringing. World spinning.

In that hazy moment, at the edge of consciousness, I glimpsed something.

His profile buried against my neck. Silver hair falling back, revealing his outline. And that shape hidden in his hair...