Page 22 of Summoning Mr. Wrong
“Look at you,” Deus said, his voice rough with desire. “Taking me so perfectly. Like you were made for this.”
His praise sent another spike of pleasure through me. One of his hands moved from my hip to wrap around my neglectederection, stroking in time with his thrusts. The dual stimulation was almost too much.
“Deus,” I warned, feeling the familiar tightening at the base of my spine. “I’m close.”
“Good,” he growled, his pace becoming more erratic. “Want to feel you come around me.”
It took only a few more strokes before I was crying out, coming harder than I ever had in my life. My entire body seemed to light up from the inside, the orgasm intensified by whatever supernatural energy was flowing between us.
As I clenched around him, Deus’s rhythm faltered. He thrust once, twice more, then stilled deep inside me with a sound that was almost a roar. I felt a surge of heat, impossibly hot, as he came.
For a moment, the tattoos on his skin glowed with actual light, bright enough to illuminate the darkened room. The patterns extending onto my skin glowed too, creating a bizarre but beautiful web of light that connected us.
Then it was over, the glow fading, leaving us both panting in the dimness. Deus carefully pulled out, dealing with the condom before collapsing beside me on the bed. I rolled onto my side, too boneless to do more than that.
“Holy shit,” I managed after a moment. “Was that… normal?”
Deus laughed weakly. “For demon sex? Pretty standard. For human sex? Probably not.”
“The light show was… unexpected.”
“Energy discharge,” he explained, pulling me against his chest. His skin was still hot, but less intensely so than before. “Think of it like a pressure valve releasing.”
“So I’m basically a supernatural pressure valve?” I asked, amused despite my exhaustion.
“A very sexy, very effective pressure valve,” he confirmed, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Feel honored. Not many humans get to experience that.”
I should have felt used, I supposed. But strangely, I didn’t. Instead, I felt… special. Chosen, even. Which was probably dangerous thinking when it came to demons, but in my post-orgasmic haze, I couldn’t bring myself to care.
“We should clean up,” I murmured, already feeling sticky and uncomfortable.
“In a minute,” Deus said, his arms tightening around me. “Just… stay like this a little longer.”
There was something in his voice, a vulnerability I hadn’t heard before, that made me acquiesce despite my discomfort. We lay there, tangled together, his heartbeat slowing under my ear.
Eventually, he roused himself enough to retrieve a washcloth from the bathroom, gently cleaning both of us before returning to bed. This time when he pulled me against him, I went willingly, fitting myself against his side like I belonged there.
“Better?” I asked, noticing that his tattoos had returned to their normal, slower movement.
“Much,” he confirmed, his fingers idly tracing patterns on my back. “Thank you.”
“Pretty sure I should be thanking you,” I said with a sleepy laugh. “That was… intense.”
“It was,” he agreed, his voice thoughtful. “More so than I expected.”
I wanted to ask what he meant by that, but exhaustion was pulling me under again. The last thing I remembered before sleep claimed me was Deus murmuring something in a language I didn’t recognize, his arms secure around me like he never intended to let go.
Chapter 14
The next week passed in a blur of job applications, interviews, and increasingly domestic moments with Deus. He continued to cook elaborate meals, clean the apartment, and generally make himself useful in ways that went far beyond what I’d expect from a demon.
He also continued to help me release his “excess energy,” which I certainly wasn’t complaining about. Sex with Deus was unlike anything I’d experienced before—intense, sometimes overwhelming, but always incredibly satisfying. The energy transfer thing happened each time, though never quite as dramatically as that first night.
What I hadn’t expected was how comfortable we’d become with each other outside the bedroom. We developed routines—morning coffee together, walks in the park, evenings spent watching movies or just talking. Deus was a fountain of historical anecdotes, most of which were too outrageous to be made up.
“You did not party with Oscar Wilde,” I said incredulously one evening as we shared takeout on the couch.
“I absolutely did,” Deus insisted, stealing a piece of chicken from my container. “Lovely man, terrible at holding his absinthe. The stories I could tell you about what happened after he passed out…”
