Page 50 of The Wickedness of Man

The tiny flicker of hope in her eyes; her need, sent a thrill through me that felt like an electric shock straight to my balls. She crawled across the floor to me, and I pulled her onto the bed and laid down, letting her kneel between my knees.

“Slowly, this time,” I stroked her cheek. “Don’t try to make me finish before I’m ready.”

Hunger; raw and animalistic, lit her face. She licked her lips and began, once more, to run her tongue along my dick. I laid back against the bed, having to bite my knuckles to keep from uttering a curse out loud. Her mouth was like heaven; but there was no way I could let her take me in that way to completion. The matching cross-shaped tattoo on her tongue had been rubbed away, many, many months ago.

I didn’t know if she knew—since I’d never told her—but she certainly seemed hell bent on trying to get her feedings from me like that, these days. None of the other special investigators seemed to have the same problem—so it might just be as issue from her feeding repeatedly on a cambion. If the Church knew the bindings could fail after repeated uses with me, they’d take her away, and I’d have to train a new one—or worse, be forced to use the communal rooms below. I wasn’t ready for that to happen. At least… not yet.

Not until I had my reward from getting my hands on Carmilla de Mornay. She might have been claimed by my father, but the harem of veiled sisters I’d receive from capturing her…

My cock swelled at the thought of it, threatening to burst inside Mercy’s mouth, but she sensed my desire and stopped moving before slowly pulling her mouth away. I could have died right then and there, but she’d done as asked. I breathed heavily and motioned her upward.

“Come here, now.”

Mercy complied, clambering up and positioning herself above my cock, one hand stroking it carefully as her pussy, wet and eager, rested just above the tip. The evidence of her arousal was running in rivulets down her legs now, but like a well-trained animal, she waited for the command word from her master.

“Go on,” I said, knowing that I couldn’t wait much longer either. “You want your reward, don’t you? Take it.”

She bit her lip, nodding excitedly. As she slid herself slowly onto the length of my dick. The two of us moaned together in unison, but I didn’t want it slow anymore. I grabbed her hips tight in my grasp, shoving her the rest of the way down before repeating the process again and again. She whimpered quietly, trying to keep her voice low as I thrust into her, pumping as hard as I could. There was no time fucking a succubus would ever feellike less than sheer ecstasy, and I lost myself in the tightness of her cunt as she orgasmed, sending a thrill through me. I closed my eyes, unable to hold off any longer, and then I came, hot and sudden. As I filled her, Mercy let loose a haggard cry that was both relief and pain, and then collapsed on top of me, panting.

I waited until I could catch my breath again, and then shoved her aside onto the bed and sat up. Beside me, the succubus, temporarily satiated, was slipping into sleep. Her abdomen glowed with that peculiar, deep red that meant her body was trying to take in sustenance, but the tattoo kept her from being able to convert it into anything that would allow her to use her demonic powers. Her face contorted as the two demands fought against each other.

I rolled her onto her back, watching the tattoo burn away just a tiny bit more. I’d had her for almost a year now—longer than the others, and if I couldn’t hide how rebellious she was, then it wouldn’t be much longer before I was forced to resort to using the communal succubi in the cells… something I didn’t even want to think about. Not because they were communal—I didn’t care one whit about that—but because they’d already been so broken that fucking them was like having sex with a corpse that was somehow still breathing.

I lifted Mercy and carried her over to her box, a large wooden crate in the corner. She’d be sleeping for a while, but just to be certain, I resealed the sides with a pitcher of holy water, careful not to get any on myself. While touching it wouldn’t kill me, it still burned. It was in this box she’d stay until I had need of her, which could be days, or on the rare occasions I’d pushed myself, weeks—usually depending on how badly she’d been behaving.

I cursed as I looked down at the tattoo on her belly. Too much of the holy magic was going, too fast. If we didn’t get to Carmilla de Mornay very soon, I’d be up shit creek without a paddleora boat. I slammed the lid closed and padlocked it, thenstrode over to the table where I’d left my suitcase and pulled out the small hand whip.

I knelt in the center of the floor, said a quick prayer for forgiveness, and sent the first strike of the whip against my left shoulder. The sting of my flesh being sliced open by the sharpened tails brought an utterance to my lips that was somewhere between praise and curse. I struck myself again, the right shoulder. The iron tang of copper bit into the air. It was a great deal many more strikes until I felt convinced that I had atoned sufficiently. I panted, moving toward the bed. Already, I could feel the wounds sealing themselves up, the afterglow of both the sex and the punishment hurrying the healing process along. I fell face first onto the mattress, still completely naked.

“Whatever happens,” I muttered as my eyes slipped closed, “I won’t be Abel.”

Caleb

Idrove several miles outside of my way, making sure there was no rhyme or reason in my pattern; sometimes three lefts, sometimes a right, occasionally hooking back over my own path for a mile before course correcting. Without GPS on the Jag, the most they’d have to go by was my erratic patterns on the traffic cameras. First, it would take a little while to get them—days, at the soonest, even with our access—and then it would waste time forcing them to watch everything I was doing so they could track me.

I would know; I’d had to deal with the very same situations while hunting down demonic targets in the past. Given that today was Sunday and the offices wouldn’t open until nine on Monday, even getting someone to push the approval paperwork through would mean that I had until Tuesday at the absolute earliest. I had no doubt the organization would find me again; I just needed to get Magda to safety and run like hell.

She had no idea what these people would do to her, and evenIwas just starting to get the full picture. Exhaustion dragged heavily through me. I wanted to lay down and sleep for a couple hours before I hit the road. I’d need some gas, maybe some food, water. I wasn’t hungry, but adrenaline had been coursingthrough my veins for so long I doubted I could feel anything but fear.

I was getting tired of trying to circumnavigate the city, block by block, even though I could feel myself being pulled inevitably toward Magda. When I finally stumbled upon a twenty-four-hour convenience store on the corner, blindingly bright in the gloomy, rain-sodden aftermath of the storm earlier, I could have wept with relief. Dawn was only an hour or so away, and I needed to get back to the condo and fast.

I walked inside, paid for the gas, bought a couple of drinks, some snacks, and was able to find a couple packs of thin t-shirts that were probably too small, but would be better than nothing. The clerk didn’t even so much as look up at me as I paid with the last of my cash and left the shop. I wouldn’t be able to touch my bank account anymore—not that there was much left in it—but if I so much as moved a cent out, the investigators would be on my trail.

I’d often dreamed of what this moment might feel like when I was a younger man—making my escape from the organization—but I’d never imagined in my wildest dreams that it would be anything like this: Charmed by a demon, hunted as an apostate, and still just as broke as I was when I was a kid.

Not to mention now I’m going to become a demon.

Everything in my entire goddamn life belonged to the organization, and therefore, the Church. I could never go back. I certainly couldn’t expect Doctor Lowe to help me—if she hadn’t been detained or killed in that fire fight in her office building, then she would be far, far away by now if she was smart. If she wasn’t far away, well, she’d probably be lying in wait until shecouldflee.

If I did see her again, I might just strangle her for using me like this. For usingMagda.

I left the convenience store and got back into the SUV, but before I could so much as press the ignition button, a sudden, urgent need hit me so hard I felt like I’d been kicked straight in the groin. The breath left my lungs in awhoosh.

Magda. She was awake; frightened.

She was calling me. She needed me.

In a pure, outlandish burst of instinct, I drove flat out back to the condos and didn’t stop until I charged all the way upstairs—elevator forgotten—and practically broke the entire door down as I burst back into the small condo.

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