Page 47 of Monsters' Manor

What’s the matter with me that I find this all so fucking hot?

Wind streams through my unbound hair, and the midnight air whispers dark taunts over my skin as I come to a skidding stop at a dead end in the path. In front of me, a giant, gnarled old oak tree stretches its night-black branches up toward the star-scattered sky.

I take a few moments to catch my breath, spinning in a slow circle as I try to orient myself.

At least until a sudden noise spikes my adrenaline again.

Whipping around, I find the demon standing right in the middle of the path, a savage grin on his face.

“You thought you could outrun me, Rosie?”

I gasp in surprise, and am just about to flee when Ren moves with inhuman speed, using another pocket realm to materialize right behind me.

He crushes me against his chest, one strong arm banding around my midriff and his other hand bracketing my throat. Not too tight, but just tight enough to let me know I’m not going anywhere.

“Very good effort, witch. But not quick enough.”

I give a good show of trying to struggle, but Ren just laughs at my half-hearted attempt to escape.

“Now,” he murmurs, dark and low and ominous, “I did say something about a punishment, didn’t I?”

His hand squeezes a little tighter at my throat, and when I arch into him I can feel the thick line of his erection pressing into my lower back. I do it again and he growls a warning against the side of my neck.

“Tell me to stop and I will, Rose. Anything you don’t want or enjoy, I stop.”

I nod, but it’s not quite enough for him.

“Tell me you understand.”

I bite back a moan at the low rumble of his voice and his firm, confident command that makes me ache to obey.

“I understand.”

“Good,” he croons. “I like a witch who knows how to behave.”

Struggling again at that bit of provocation, Ren’s chuckle vibrates against every place we’re touching, echoing all the way through me.

“Now for your punishment.”

My core goes molten at the sensual threat in those words, and my breath catches when Ren turns me in his arms and hefts me up against him. I scramble to wrap my legs around his waist and loop my arms around his neck as he walks us into the shadows of the enormous oak at the end of the path.

One of the tree’s great, sweeping limbs reaches out from the trunk at waist-height, making the perfect place for him to set me down.

And then he falls to his knees.

“Such a wicked little witch,” he murmurs, grabbing one of my ankles and tugging off my sneaker. “Such a wicked,caughtlittle witch. My pretty, pretty prey.”

My other shoe follows, and he reaches up to undo the snap of my jeans.

I could try to run again. I could jump down and go careening off through the woods, lead him on another chase, but absolutely no part of me wants to do that.

I want to be Ren’s prey.

I want to be caught.

I want to be right here, letting a demon have his way with me. Like the obedient witch I have no problem being for him, I lift off the tree’s smooth trunk to let him pull my jeans down my legs and toss them to the forest floor below us.

Standing again, he surveys me with dark satisfaction written all over his face. Shameless, I spread my legs wide and he’s right there, pressing himself into me, the cool leather of his pants brushing up against my too-sensitive skin. Even with the thin barrier of my underwear, the sensation is incredible. I move on him, chasing my building pleasure with complete abandon.

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