The Incubus System Chapter 1166. Tiffany's First II

The Incubus System Chapter 1166. Tiffany's First II

Tiffany’s PoV

“Look at me,” Ethan said. “I want to see your eyes when I make you mine.”

She did. And what she saw in his expression wasn’t just lust.

It was obsession.

He started to move—slow at first, deep, controlled strokes that had her panting and moaning his name like a mantra. Her body moved with his, every nerve ending lit on fire. Her nails left red trails down his back. He grunted, low and primal, and slammed into her harder.

And that was it.

That was the switch.

He broke her.

There was no shame, no filter. She cried out with each thrust, each kiss, each word whispered against her ear.

“Good girl.”

“So tight.”

“Take it, Tiff. Take all of me.”

She was gone.

He didn’t stop until she shattered in his arms—crying out his name as she came hard around him, her entire body convulsing. And even then, he didn’t stop. He owned her. His pace turned brutal, and she took it, loved it, needed it.

Her body was sticky with sweat, with each other. The room smelled of sex and heat and something smoky, like embers that refused to die.

Tiffany lay there, breathless, shaking, wrecked.

Ethan didn’t say a word.

He just pulled her close, one arm locking tight around her waist, his face buried in her hair.

And for the first time since this started, she felt something warm and terrifying bloom in her chest.

Not just desire.

Not just lust.

But something deeper.

Something dangerous.

Something real.

That’s what it felt like when Ethan held her. After everything—the teasing, the tension, the overwhelming heat—it wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t just a hook-up or some wild rebound thing. It felt like something deeper.

Tiffany lay tangled in his arms, breath still uneven, her skin slick with sweat. Her body felt like it had been shattered and slowly put back together by his hands—by his mouth, his voice, his presence. Ethan hadn’t just touched her body. He had marked her soul.

This was so wrong.

Her stomach twisted.

She was a demon hunter. Trained, sworn, raised to kill the very kind of creature Ethan had become.

Not that she ever saw him that way.

Not really.

Even before all this—before the flirting got serious, before the tension started boiling over—she knew something about him didn’t fit the rules. He wasn’t a monster. Not in the way they taught her. Not in the way she was supposed to believe.

But still…

He was her stepbrother.

Her face heated again, this time not from lust, but from that chaotic mix of guilt and confusion that had been following her since the moment she first started thinking about Ethan like this.

And she had.

More than once.

More than she wanted to admit.

Because yeah… it wasn’t new. This wasn’t just a random, impulsive thing. She’d thought about him. At night. In the morning.

She couldn’t even pin it to a moment. It just happened.

He meant what he said. He did what he promised. He didn’t lie, didn’t fake sweetness. He was Ethan. And maybe that’s what got her.

That weird pull. That feeling that no matter what, he would catch her if she fell.

Was it love?

Or was it just comfort?

Or maybe it was something else. Some twisted craving because they weren’t blood related but still tied together. Some forbidden fantasy that got out of hand.

Or was it because he was stronger?

Because no matter how much she trained, no matter how sharp her blade was, Ethan could tear through demons like they were paper. Because he didn’t flinch when things got ugly. Because he looked at the monsters under the bed and grinned.

Was that it?

She didn’t know.

But she knew one thing.

It didn’t feel wrong when he touched her.

And now, his hand was sliding down her back again, slow and warm and possessive. His thumb rubbed lazy circles just above her hip, and she shivered under the gentleness. It contrasted so hard with the Ethan she just had—the one who made her scream and beg and fall apart like she’d never done in her life.

“You’re thinking too much,” he murmured, his voice a low vibration against her hair.

Tiffany didn’t answer—she couldn’t. Not with Ethan still deep inside her, stretching her open, his body pressed flush against hers, his cock pulsing with heat and weight that made her whole body ache. She could feel every twitch of him inside her, like her very flesh had molded around him, refusing to let him go.

She sucked in a sharp breath, thighs instinctively tightening around his waist. The heat was unbearable, a sweet, molten pressure building all over again. Her legs were still trembling from the last climax, but her body was already begging for more—begging for him.

“I can feel it,” Ethan said against her skin, his lips brushing over the slick warmth of her neck. “The guilt. The questions. You’re trying to figure out what this is…”

His hips shifted slightly, just enough to make her whimper as the stretch hit a new angle. Her walls clenched around him, helpless to stop it.

“Still thinking?” he asked, low and dark.

One hand slid between her thighs again, his fingers brushing the oversensitive bundle of nerves. She gasped—sharp and loud—and her nails dug into his back, searching for something solid in the mess of sensations overwhelming her.

“You want me to tell you it’s okay?” he whispered, mouth at her ear, voice like sin. “That you’re not a bad person?”

He thrust into her once, deep and slow, making her back arch with a sobbing gasp. His fingers circled her clit again, unrelenting.

“You’re not,” he growled, biting lightly at her earlobe. “You’re just mine. That’s all.”

Tiffany moaned, breath catching as he began to move inside her again, slow at first—teasing, even—but the force behind it was building. His cock dragged against her walls like he owned them, each stroke sending lightning through her nerves.

“Ethan…” she whimpered.