Page 95 of Interior Design for Demons
“Get inside me,” I order, gripping his jaw. “Right now.”
“I didn’t save you just forthis,” he says again, his eyes begging me to understand.
“I know.” I tug his face closer and kiss him, while his hair trails soft across my shoulders. “You love me. You really, truly, actually love me, like no one has ever loved me before. No one, ever.” My voice breaks, and—and damn it, I’m going to cry. I squeeze my eyes shut, turning my face away. Idon’tcry during sex. I’m not that person, I’m not, I’m—
A glorious rushing fullness makes my eyes fly open again, tears dripping down my temples, mouth parted in a gasp. He’s inside me, and this is what I’ve been aching for. This is myplace, myperson.This is the one I can count on. Security, faithfulness, love. Thisdemon.Mydemon.
I shift my hips, away and then forward, sliding along his length, burying him deeper. There should be a word for this urge, this craving to immerse yourself in someone else’s body, their soul, their being. It’s a feeling beyond love or lust, and it encompasses both, and it deserves its own word.
It is safety. It is bliss, trust, beauty. It is triumph, satisfaction. Winning.
Apollyon pounds into me, all his skill and strategies forgotten, driven only by visceral emotion. The sharp blue claw of his thumb drags across my mouth, tugging my lower lip aside, and he snarls lightly through lengthened dragon’s teeth. His eyes glow into mine, crystal-blue, fractured with love and longing and despair.
With each thrust, the arousal in my belly curls tighter, pulses, until it sucks into a compact knot and then bursts in widening spirals that flow and flow through my stomach and along my limbs. Crying out, I convulse around Apollyon, my hips surging upward, and he answers my cry, his claws digging into the scattered bones as he comes hard inside me.
We keep shuddering, vibrating in the thrall of pleasure. I’m barely conscious of Apollyon turning us over, shifting so that he’s the one lying on the bones while I quiver helpless on top of him. Each move I make, each shift of my skin against the hard planes of his body seems to ignite a fresh surge of pleasure. I’m not sure how much more my brain and nerves can take.
Apollyon holds me tight against him until the bone-melting bliss has ebbed. Then he says quietly, “You’re bleeding.” He touches a spot on my back and holds up his fingers, scarlet-slick. “The bones must have cut you despite our clothes. I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t notice.” I release a breathless laugh, suddenly aware of the stinging pain. “It’s fine.”
“I’ll heal you.”
A hum of warmth across my back, and the twinge of discomfort vanishes.
Apollyon sits up and gathers me into his lap. It’s a vulnerable position, one I wouldn’t like with anyone else, but I let him do it, because he apparently needs to hold me.
“They are going to destroy me for this defiance,” he whispers against my temple. “There will be new torments invented just for me.”
There’s real fear in his voice, and I remember what he said about liking pain, but not past a certain point. He’s scared, and I immediately want to rise up and protect him from anything that might try to touch him. But I can’t. I have no powers, nothing with which to defend him. I have never felt more helpless, and I hate it.
“You can take me back to them,” I whisper. “Apologize, beg forgiveness.”
“Demons do not forgive. And I would never take you back. I do not regret this, Grace, and I never will, not even if I spend millennia being flayed to threads for it.”
We sit together naked for a while longer, kissing and talking in low, secret tones even though there is no one around to hear. Apollyon grows erect again within a few minutes, coaxed to hardness by the friction of my body against his. I move astride his lap and guide him inside, bouncing on him at first, then moving slow and languid while he kisses my breasts and fondles the sensitive nub right above where we’re joined. Soon my breath is hitching, and my stomach is clenching, and then I’m overflowing again, spasming through another burst of pleasure.
After that second rush, we both dress without discussing it, wordlessly agreeing that if someone comes to capture us, we’d rather not be caught naked. Though I don’t know why it makes a difference to me. We’ve pissed off all of Hell. It’s not like clothes are going to make us any less vulnerable.
Shortly after we dress, I braid a lock of Apollyon’s hair as he tells me about the agony he endured while pretending not to care about me for all those days. It makes me smile wickedly, knowing he was just as unhappy as I was during that time. I’ve just finished that braid and started another when Apollyon leaps up, his boots crunching on bones. His blue eyes flare wide and his teeth thicken and stretch, sharpening into the dragon’s fangs. “Someone’s coming.”
His blue claws extend, and horns spiral from his skull. He’s ready for a fight, but it’s one he can’t win, and we both know it.
A cloaked, hooded figure is climbing out of the hole that serves as exit and entrance to this hidden forest.
“You can’t fight them. Hide,” I screech in a half-whisper to Apollyon, shoving him toward one of the thicker trees. It’s a stupid move—no little hide-and-seek game in the trees is going to deter any demons who may have come to collect us.
But Apollyon resists my pressure, inhaling, sniffing the air. His frown clears, and he smiles. “No, dove, you don’t need to worry. This is a friend.” He steps forward. “Welcome. Did Naamah tell you where to find me?”
“She did,” says a light voice. The hood falls back, and I’m momentarily stunned into silence by the exquisite beauty of the angel Karaziel. “I am here to help you.”
“Help us?” Apollyon releases a little laugh. “No one can help us, except Lucifer, or Go—G—”
“God Himself,” I finish. It’s fascinating to me how Apollyon can’t say the name, like a vampire who recoils from a crucifix.
“Yes,” Apollyon says, relieved. “And I don’t see either of them reaching out a helping hand.”
“But what if they did?” Karaziel runs delicate fingers along the trunk of a bone-tree. “As I told Grace, this design contest has become nearly as popular Above as it is Below. Your selfless rescue of Grace right before her death has propelled you to legendary heights of fame and popularity in Heaven. Naamah says that many demons in Hell were also inspired by the rebellion and romance of what you did.”
