The Incubus System Chapter 1165. Tiffany's First I

The Incubus System Chapter 1165. Tiffany's First I

Tiffany’s PoV

Her gaze locked onto one spot—him. More specifically, his shaft, half-awake, twitching slightly with every passing second as if it knew it was being watched. The air between them felt charged, like static clinging to skin right before a thunderstorm. Her heart wasn’t just beating fast—it was pounding like it was trying to break out of her chest.

“First time seeing this?” Ethan’s voice was deep, husky, laced with that dark teasing edge that had become more familiar lately.

She nodded before she could stop herself. Her face was flushed, but her eyes never left him.

He smirked—no, he smiled, but it wasn’t sweet or soft. It was dark, knowing. Like a predator that already knew the prey wouldn’t run.

“And you’ll see more of me,” he murmured, voice so low it rumbled through the floor and into her bones.

She shivered.

Then, without warning, he picked her up—not gently, not roughly either, but like she weighed nothing, like she was his to handle however he pleased. Tiffany let out a startled squeak as he carried her bridal-style through the room and into her bedroom.

The world tilted.

And then drop.

Not harsh—just enough bounce to steal her breath as she landed on her bed, sheets cool against her feverish skin. Before she could react, Ethan was crawling after her, his movements slow and almost feline, eyes never leaving hers. There was something in that gaze. Something magnetic and dangerous.

He started at her feet.

His fingers wrapped around her ankle, lifting it slightly, and then his lips—hot, soft, wet—brushed over her toe. A sharp, involuntary gasp escaped her lips. His mouth continued upward, trailing kisses along the delicate bones of her foot, the curve of her ankle, the soft skin of her calf. The kiss was slow, deliberate, leaving tiny electric sparks wherever he touched. She could feel the shape of his mouth long after he moved on.

Her thighs tensed.

Ethan’s lips didn’t falter—they moved, higher, higher—his breath warming her inner thighs now, but he didn’t stop there. He was torturing her, drawing out every second like it mattered. His fingers slid under her knees, pushing her legs apart as he moved between them, crawling up over her body now.

Tiffany’s breathing had gone shallow. Too fast. Her pulse was in her ears. Her chest rose and fell with desperate rhythm, and she knew—knew—she looked wrecked already, and he hadn’t even started.

Ethan’s face hovered above hers, his body caging her in like a wall of heat. She could feel everything—his skin against hers, the way their bodies aligned so perfectly it was infuriating. The scent of him—smoky, a little musky, mixed with something sharper, darker. Like incense and sin.

“You’re quiet,” he said softly, his mouth brushing her cheek as he spoke. “Cat got your tongue?”

“I…” Her voice cracked. “You’re… different.”

“Good different?”

She swallowed hard. “Dangerous different.”

His eyes gleamed at that. “Good.”

And then he kissed her—deep, possessive, messy—and she couldn’t help but moan into his mouth. His kiss was nothing like before. It was claiming. His tongue pushed against hers, exploring, demanding. She felt his hands on her waist, sliding up over her ribs, his thumbs grazing the underside of her breasts before fully cupping them.

Her back arched instinctively.

And then he pulled back just slightly, looking down at her. His expression was unreadable. Quiet, dark, controlled. Tiffany felt like she was unraveling beneath his gaze.

“You’re mine tonight,” he said, voice like velvet wrapped around steel. “No more pretending.”

The words made her stomach flip.

And then his mouth was on her breast again—hot, wet, hungry. His teeth grazed the sensitive peak and she cried out, fingers gripping his hair, trying to ground herself. But there was no grounding with Ethan. Not like this. He was a storm, and she was just trying to survive it.

His hands were everywhere. Down her sides, squeezing her hips, thumbs dragging along the soft dip of her waist. He explored her body like he was learning it, memorizing her reactions, what made her gasp, what made her squirm, what made her beg.

And it was working.

Because she was melting again.

But this time, it wasn’t just heat. It was something more. He wasn’t just touching her body—he was invading her soul. Every breath, every sound she made, felt like it belonged to him now.

“Do you feel it?” he whispered, his voice a dark promise. “My control over you?”

Tiffany could barely speak. “Yes…”

“You want more?”

She nodded, but it wasn’t enough.

“Say it.”

“Please… more.”

His smirk returned.

He slid back down her body again, and this time, he didn’t stop at her stomach. His tongue dipped into her navel before he spread her thighs and settled between them. His breath was hot against her most sensitive skin, and she whimpered—actually whimpered—when his tongue flicked out to taste her again.

It was too much. Too good.

He ate her like he was starved. Like her pleasure was his only goal, his only desire. And maybe it was. Tiffany’s legs trembled as wave after wave hit her, her moans louder now, messier. She was soaked. She could feel it, dripping down her thighs, coating his mouth, and he didn’t stop. Didn’t slow.

And God, she loved it.

He grunted softly, the vibration of it sending another jolt through her body, and she nearly came again.

“You’re mine,” he growled between licks. “Say it.”

“I’m yours!” she gasped. “Ethan, I’m yours!”

He chuckled darkly. “Damn right you are.”

And then he pulled back, face glistening, lips shiny, eyes almost black with lust. She thought he looked like a god. A demon god, all power and control and raw desire.

He didn’t ask again.

He just took.

Tiffany barely registered when he pushed inside her. There was a split-second of resistance—he was big, too big—but her body adjusted, welcomed him like it had been waiting for this. She gasped, her hands clawing at his shoulders, her legs wrapping around his waist.