Page 68 of Demon Hunger
“Oh, my!” I said, without thinking. He looked massive and delicious under his tight boxer briefs.
He sat up, and grabbing my waist, pulled me on top of him. As I straddled him, he buried his face in my breasts. I felt the shape of him better without his pants, and I ached inside. He moved his hips slightly back and forth, and I followed his rhythm. He fondled my breasts, kissing me with abandon.
For a moment, I thought of myself as clay in his hands. I felt so feverish, and his touch was so hot that I honestly thought I might melt.
“I can’t take this anymore!” he said, flipping me over and depositing me in the middle of the bed. He gently removed my panties. Now, I was completely naked in front of him as his ravenous gaze devoured me. He removed his underwear next. The considerable length of him fell forward heavily. I nearly gasped in anticipation.
Slowly, he lowered himself between my legs and pressed his tip against my core. The ache there was desperate and excruciatingly delicious.
Drevan interlaced his fingers with mine, never breaking eye contact.
“Be gentle with me,” he said.
“Maybe I should be the one asking that.”
“You have nothing to worry about. I’m nothing but helpless in your hands.”
His lower lip quivered as he pushed himself inside of me. He entered me to the hilt, and shivered on top of me, laying very still for a moment. Kissing me, he buried his face in my neck. I held him in my arms and felt him melt into me, vulnerable and mine, the way I was his.
After a moment, he began pushing and thrusting. My hips matched his movement. A few times, he stopped, his teeth grazing my neck as if he would bite me. I moaned and knew I wouldn’t mind it if he did, but he was able to control himself, then began moving again, each time more insistent, each time more delicious.
What he didn’t know was that I’d been wanting this so badly that I was as aroused and eager as he. Too quickly, he drove me to the edge of ecstasy, seeming to know exactly what I needed and when.
As I let out an involuntary moan and arched my back, he pressed tightly against me and started moving his hips in circles. He was hitting me deeply, but also applying pressure to a very tight, very sensitive spot. His mouth covered mine, and one of his hands fondled my breast. He seemed to be everywhere. A well of sensations eddied, growing tighter and tighter, spiraling me toward a climax. Reading my every reaction, Drevan increased his pace.
With a cry of pleasure, I reared up, seized by the intense spasms that rocked my world. Drevan cradled me in his arms as the raw thrill of my climax coursed through me, blooming from my core, then expanding into every corner of my body.
His release came immediately after mine. He shuddered in waves that made Drevan’s entire body tremble as I held him tightly. I kissed him tenderly, unable to believe how exposed he felt in my arms. How… mine.
When he was spent, he didn’t break the embrace. As our breaths grew calm and our bodies languid from the exertion and bliss, he pulled the covers free and draped them over us. We snuggled together, his arm wrapped around my back as I rested my cheek on his chest. As impossible as it seemed with everything that was going on, we fell into a peaceful sleep.
When I woke up, it was morning, and I was wrapped in Drevan’s arms, our legs tangled together. I lay as still as possible. My hand rested on his chest, feeling it move rhythmically up and down. Slowly, I pushed away, doing my best not to wake him up, and drank in his beautiful features.
It didn’t matter that he was cursed, a Prince of Hell, a demon or Nephilim or whatever, I knew deep in my heart that he was the one for me. I was certain that if I lived to be a hundred and traveled all over the world, I wouldn’t find anyone who would make me feel the way he did.
Drevan released a heavy sigh, his thick dark lashes fluttering as he awoke. “Moro mou,” he said in his sleep.
That again. What did it mean?
He blinked a few times, then glanced in my direction. He seemed surprised for an instant, then relieved.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Hey.”
He turned to lie on his shoulder. Facing me, his eyes roved over my face admiringly. He pushed a lock of hair from my forehead, his fingers gentle. There was so much love in his expression that my heart tightened.
“What does… moro mou mean?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s Greek.”
“You said it in your sleep.”
“I did?” He appeared embarrassed. “It means… my baby.”
That shocked me. I hadn’t suspected that he would use such terms of endearment. My heart warmed.
“Drevan, I…”
