Dark Enchantment (Elvis Presley Story)

Chapter 7

Sophia was tucked into the curve of a glass-paned bow window, laying on a blue velvet sofa in a sexy sprawl. The curtain behind her was closed. Her head had lolled against the back cushion, the book she had been reading lay splayed on the floor below her drooping hand.

Elvis's body thrived at the sight of her. The top botton of her lilic-colored satin pajamas had come undone, and her hair was mussed as though she'd run agitated fingers through it many times. Or as if he had.

Just one of the many things he intended to do to her before the night was out. Starting with those pajamas.

He took a step towards her, the sound of his boots absorbed by the thick rug. Raising his hand, he brushed the air in a subtle gesture, causing the buttons to slip from their moorings. The pajama top gaped open, revealing her perfect, creamy breasts. Beautiful.

He didn't stop there, he used his powers to slip the top down her arms and off her body. She didn't stir, even when the material slid between her body and the blue velvet of the sofa. He did the same with the pajama bottoms. Leaving her gloriously naked.

For a moment he simply savoured the sight. She was gorgeous. Long-legged, and curvy in all the right places. Lips made for sin. Breasts shaped for lust. And all his.

Even though he wasn't a true incubus, he, as most daemons sapiens, had the ability to call up his incubus, or parts of his incubus, at will. He couldn't resist conjuring an extra, invisible hand and sending it out to pass lightly over her breasts, relishing the feel of her soft flesh, letting it thumb the rosy peaks, which tightened to perfect, round points.

She came to with a gasp and sat up, Blinking unfocused eyes. Her dream of him had began. In all ways, she would behave as though awake, unable to tell the difference between reality and illusion. For all intents he was real. The best part of pretending to be an incubus was that he could do all sorts of mind tricks. And body tricks. As long as she remaind asleep. And he could slip inside her head.

Elvis huffed out a laugh, spotting the oversized coffee cup that sat on the end table behind her. "You've been a naughty girl, honey. You didn't really think you could stay awake all night to avoid me, did you?"

Her eyes Swam with trepidation. "Worth a try," She murmured. "I told you I'd changed my mind."

"And as I said, too late." He swiveled to indicate a gold labeled bottle which he brought with him, sitting on a tall stand along with two crystal flutes. "Come, have a drink. Do you like champagne?"

"Um. Yes." She seemed surprised by its appearance. Ah, she did have much to learn.

He filled two glasses and held one out to her. She stood up and that's when she realised she was naked. She glanced down at her nakedness, gasping in embarrassment. "What have you done to me?"

"Just remember," he reminded her, "that none of this is real. It's all just a dream." Which was a lie, of course. Just because it was a dream didn't mean it wasn't real.

"It feels very real," She said, turning away from him as her cheeks flushed pink. Perhaps she was onto him. "Where are my pajamas?"

"You won't need them," he promised. He moved behind her and gave the glass to her. "Here. Take it. It'll help you relax."

"This is my dream. I get to choose if I'm dressed or not," She said, but took the glass from his hand.

"Not with an incubus, you don't. " He moved closer, so his body brushed down the length of her bare back. "I'm in charge now. It's part of the fantasy."

Elvis felt her shiver. He liked when her body disobeyed her mind.

"Fantasy? I thought you said this was just a straightforward bargain."