The Coven Chronicles #4 - The Witch's Demon

$2.99

[Erotica, Urban Fantasy, Witches, Incest, Group Sex, MFF, Kissing Cousins, Aunt/Nephew, Demons]

Following The Witch's Graduation, Steven Johnson and the Chamberlain Coven thought they were safe. All members had been safely brought into the loving arms of the coven, and John Chamberlain had closed the ritual with all of his female relatives, channeling their sexual energy.

But a simple visit to the mall spirals out of control, and no one is in control of their destiny. The Dark One takes a new vessel, and the coven must gather together to fight off an attack on their home, their bodies, and their very souls. Who will be victorious, and who will fall, when the coven at last confronts The Witch’s Demon?

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      She tiptoed, bare feet noiseless on the steps until she reached the basement door. Moving slowly, she opened it soundlessly, easing around the corner until she could see Steve, his sweet face turned away from her as he pulled his purchases out of the hamper; soap and shampoo and soft, fluffy bath towels.
      She hid behind the sofa and stripped, warmth pooling at her center as she watched him.
      Suddenly, she sprung, feet driving her across the carpet as she flung herself at his back. At the last second he turned and caught her in his arms, laughing as he turned her charge into a spin and then fell with her onto the bed, still rumpled and heavy with Eleanor's musk.
      He landed on top, her body delightfully firm beneath his, his body happily hard on top of hers. He took a breath to say something, anything, but she pulled his face down and kissed him, long and deep, groaning as he returned it avidly. He ground his hips against hers, and she whimpered at the feel of the soft cotton of his shorts on her sex.
      He pulled away for a moment, eyes bright. “I've wanted to do that since the first time I saw you, when I was out passing out pamphlets and you went past me in your jogging outfit,” he said.
      “Really,” she asked, eyes dancing. “I would have figured you would have wanted to clamp on to one of these,” she continued, hands lifting her tits high toward his face. “It's what most men look at first.”
      He shook his head mock-seriously. “No. You can't just go up to a woman and start sucking on her breasts,” he explained as she giggled. “You have to work your way up to that.”
      “Oh?” Hilda asked, thumbing her fat nipples happily as they crinkled erect. “And how would you know? Have you ever tried?”
      “Well, now that you mention it,” he said, captivated by her magnificent orbs. “I haven't.”
      “Try,” she breathed, hips slowly rocking, yearning towards him. “Try now.”
      His elbows braced at her sides, he bent his head to her breast, hot breath teasing her nipple. She closed her eyes, shivering in anticipation of his touch.
      There! The slightest whisper of sensation, as the very tip of his tongue grazed the pebbled flesh of her aureola. And again, on the other side, and again, this time with his tender lips closed, dragging his mouth around the heavy curves of her globes. And now his cheeks, so soft, nuzzling her skin like a cat seeking comfort.
      She writhed beneath him, her mind fading, intellect giving way to the beauty of pure sensation. Her legs sagged open, moisture gathering on her labia as her body prepared itself for the most pleasant of invasions. She cupped a breast in her hand, mimicking his movements, duplicating his touch, and as his mouth came down on one nipple, suckling hard, eager lips and tongue puling at her turgid flesh like a babe coaxing milk from his mother, she pinched the other in her fingers, pulling it away from her, stretching it, reveling in the sweet boil of lust.
      She threw her head back and clenched her teeth shut on a scream of passion and now his hand was at her gate, the heel of his palm pressing firmly down on the rise of her mons, his fingers gently coating themselves with her nectar and he was still kissing her breast, lips gentle on the underside of her tit.
      “Oh, Goddess, finally. I've finally got myself a genuine tit-man, don't I?” she moaned.
      He pulled his lips away, startled. “What?”
      “Get back down there, boy,” she growled, and he bent his head down obligingly, head busy on her mammaries, and now oh Goddess, yes now a long finger was forcing itself oh so slowly into the hot, pulsing depths of her canal.
      “Some men,” she breathed unevenly, trying to keep the words in the right order as she basked in his attention like a lioness in the sun. “Some men say they are tit-men. But after a few minutes they want to get their rocks off. That's OK. I understand. Johnny,” she said, eyes unfocusing as his thumb traced circles on the gleaming surface of her clit, “is better than most. But you, Steve. You actually love my titties, don't you?” Her back arched, forcing her mounds even higher, nipples challenging the sky.
      “Yes, I do,” he said, then covered her right nipple with his mouth once more, braced on one elbow, his hand stroking her fire-red hair as the other gently pumped the beautiful mouth of her sex. She lifted her hips gently, matching his rhythm, the muscles of her inner thighs beginning to shake as her arousal increased.
      Her eyes closed again but her mouth opened in a weak grin. “That's lovely, Steve. Just lovely. Why the hell couldn't you have two mouths?”
      At that moment, Susanna's lips closed on her left breast.


Word Count: 18,000

  • Manufactured by: Alana Church

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