Page 17 of Death C*mes Inside Her
She shakes her blonde mane as I yank her thighs open. My knee braces between them, the weight of my hips settling against hercore. The crown of my shaft hovers over her swollen clit before slamming down in a sharp grind that makes her back arch.
My mouth latches onto her earlobe, fangs grazing skin as I growl into it. “You’re meant for me. That slick channel between your legs? It’s where my fire belongs. A demon’s fire is his life force. It is everything that makes me… alive. At least in the sense you would understand.”
Her gasp is muffled by my palm clamped over her mouth, but I catch the scent of her fear.
She tremblesas my cock drags through her folds, and I kiss her slowly enough to drown in the taste of her fear and need.
The head slips inside, but she winces, nails digging into my shoulders. My restraint cracks. “Such a tight little witch still. You have a sweet little chokehold on me.”
I deepen the kiss until her mewls turn into sighs, the pressure easing as her body stretches around me. Halfway in, her hips buck, and I freeze.
“More,” she pants, clawing at my back, sending me into a frenzy. “I want it all. I want it inside me, no matter how much it hurts. I want you to be happy, Aios. I want to be the one who makes you happy.”
She is a miracle. With a roar, I thrust forward, and we’re both lost to it. Her whine cuts through the darkness left in my chest and brings light all the way to the horizon.
I slam into her, the slap-slap-slap of flesh obscene in the open air. Her cunt milks my shaft, wet heat coaxing a low growl from my throat.
“Look at you,” I grit out, gripping her hips to lift her harder into me. Using her little body for my pleasure. “My fire lighting your veins.”
She claws my chest, eyes unfocused but fierce, as I drag a claw along the seam of her ass.
“You’re mine,” I snarl, slamming deeper until we’re one jagged pulse of need and heat. Her heartbeat thrums against me, and I bite into her collarbone, marking her where the scent of arousal blooms hottest her little body covered in my purple marks.
I snap her legs over my shoulders, driving balls-deep until her cunt clenches in warning, and I lean down to whisper against her temple. “Come for me now, or I’ll drag this out all night.”
She shrieks as pleasure erupts, liquid warmth clamping my shaft like a vise. My cum follows, white-hot and glowing, knotting us together in a way that leaves her trembling against me.
When it’s over, I stay inside her, one palm splayed over her stomach, the other brushing damp strands from her face. She’s flushed, spent, but not frightened, looking at me like she’s found something she didn’t know she needed.
“Rest,” I tell her softly, forehead pressed to hers. “You won’t wake alone again.”
Her fingers trail up my chest. She smiles, and I feel the shape of it like a lock sliding open.
I gather her closer, chest to chest, and breathe her in. She smells like heat, rain, and the beginning of a life I never thought I’d want. For the first time in longer than I can remember, the future doesn’t look empty.
She drifts against me, still trembling now and then. I keep a hand on her belly, protective, and another at her back, drawing slow circles meant only for comfort.
I’ve claimed her, yes. But there is only one way I know of to keep her.
Will she accept it as willingly as she has accepted me? Will I have to tell her to close her eyes and ignore the pain as I rip her soul from her body, that it will all be over in a moment, and she will be with me forever?
And will the Big Man end both our existence as punishment for daring to fall in love with one of His father’s creations?
Chapter 6
Aios
Ilift Eve from the bed in her unconscious state.
A surprised sound slips from her throat, and she tucks under my jaw like she belongs there. Heat from her skin seeps into me as my arms tighten around my possession.
The corridor to the master bath runs long and dim. As we pass, my memory of long-removed wall sconces reawakens them one by one, flames licking tarnished brass in place of the stark, ugly electric lights. At the end, a deep porcelain claw-foot tub stands in a marble alcove, all green-veined stone and brass taps gone warm with age.
I set her on the cushioned bench.
“Open your eyes, little witch.”
I turn on the hot, then the cold. Water thunders through stubborn pipes and slaps porcelain. Steam lifts in pale ribbons.
