Page 45 of Hellish Fae
It’s written in the slashing, messy handwriting that I have had for the past six centuries, but I know she can read it perfectly.
And if she can’t, well, my little friends make their position painfully clear to her.
“What do we want?” one of the little smoke demons yells.
“Cum!” the others answer.
“When do we want it?”
“Whenever Aries is willing to give it, at the most opportune time, but whenever suits her needs best, of course,” they all rattle, out of unison like the messy thoughts of my mind that they are.
Her lips part as if she might try to make sense of the demonic protestors, but they start right back up.
“What do we want?”
“Cum!”
“When do we want it?”
“Whenever Aries is willing to give it, at the most opportune—”
“Stop! Stop it!” She stomps through the room, and literally crushes my thoughts with the sharp heel of her sexy shoes.
The chanting stops as smoke wafts up around her bare curves, the silk of her panties, the round perfection of her tits. Then I notice the gleaming black horns twirling up from her strange black hair. They’d be beautiful against her natural silver locks.
Theyarebeautiful. She’s beautiful.
Untouchablybeautiful.
“Nice to see you, too, love,” I say to her. I don’t dare reach out to her hips that are right in front of me.
“Why—why did you spellcomelike that?” She distractedly tries to sort through what’s most urgent in her mind.
I, too, try to find the reasoning that I left lying around somewhere in my thoughts.
“It seemed more professional at the time. More I-want-you-to-take-my-mind-minions-seriously. Yes, I want to fuck you in a romantic way, not an erotic way.” I nod to myself.
She glares down on me with the full force of her annoyance.
I shove off from the floor because I can’t take another second of smelling her freshly fucked pussy any longer. I can smell the wetness of her panties and a masculine scent staining her flawless skin.
Did he fuck her? Does she cum for other men the way she cums for me? Did he make her legs shake and her whole-body tremble like good and evil will collide if she doesn’t find her release with me and me alone? Does she . . . does she love him?
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Aries?” I flick my demon-dusted index finger out and twirl a long lock of her black hair around my digit until my magic infects hers, and it chases out the unnatural color.
And then that silver hair is right back where it belongs on her hot-headed skull.
She bats my hand away, but when our fingers tangle just slightly, she shivers on contact. It’s a shiver that I know just coursed right down to her cunt.
My tongue slides slowly across my lips.
“You called me here, and you know it.” Her shoulders square as she folds her arms beneath her breasts and gives me a most delectable salacious sight to look down on.
My lazy posture stays in place, and I’m still several inches taller than her. I love how small she is. I always loved how small she felt beneath me. Not that we’ve had that mutual feeling in a long, long time.
Politics. They fuck everything up.
I know if I continue to lead her around by her pretty little horns, it’ll give me more time with her, even if she’s pissed at me the entire time. But it also means that someday, she’ll grow tired of this bantering. Maybe she’ll even grow tired of my touch, my tone, my torment.
