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“Make me come.” Her voice cracked.
“Not yet.”
She hissed. “You’re a fucking prick, Keenan!” She paused with only the head of his cock inside her. “I’m not moving until you promise you’ll make me come.”
A chill brushed over her skin as his eyes bled to black. The demon stared at her, not looking all too happy with her. Its large hands snapped tight around her, spanning her narrow waist.
It mercilessly yanked her down, impaling her on its dick, stuffing her full. “Now I take you.” It pumped its hips, drilling into her, slamming deep. And, oh God, that felt so good.
Her own demon liked how rough and demanding it was. Liked that it so boldly took what it wanted. The entity found it a total turn-on.
Wound so tight she was close to sobbing, she held on tight, enjoying the ride … right up until the flesh beneath its hands started to prickle and burn. Realization hit her like a slap. She widened her eyes. “No—”
“Fucking yes,” it growled, ruthlessly slamming her down on its cock while still thrusting its hips upwards. It took her mouth, rough and savage. The demon was beyond brutal. It demanded everything from her. The skin beneath its hands kept on burning yet, somehow, it felt unbelievably good—there was no way to explain it.
Black eyes once more became blue as the demon subsided. Keenan’s hands gripped her ass as he impaled her on him again and again, rough and frantic, punching up his hips each time. She wanted him this way; liked it. Liked seeing the cool, controlled surface he presented to the world completely obliterate.
Her breath caught as his dick began to swell. The tension inside her built once more, and anticipation buzzed through her as she felt the elastic band around all that tension loosen.
“Come for me,” he ordered. And then the elastic band snapped.
Her release thundered through her in violent waves, bowing her back and trapping a scream in her throat. Her pussy squeezed and quaked around him, milking him.
Keenan grunted. “Fuck, yeah.” He forcefully slammed her onto his cock one last time and detonated. Jet after jet of hot come burst out of him.
Limp and sated, Khloé leaned into him, her chest burning for air. Yow-damn-za. She’d never had an orgasm that intense before in her life; hadn’t even known it was possible.
He palmed her nape and dropped a kiss on her hair. “You good?”
“Just riding my buzz.” She kept her eyes closed, enjoying the way he dragged the pads of his fingers over whatever part of her body he could reach, as if he was tracing and mapping her.
When those fingers lightly danced over the suddenly sensitive skin on her waist, Khloé sat up. “Your demon branded me,” she remembered. She glanced down, examining the tattoo-like brand. It was … well, it was pretty. And bold as hell.
His finger traced the thin, intricate pattern that spanned her stomach from hip to hip like a belt. The occasional “K” was woven inside the pattern. “I like it,” he said.
She met his gaze, searching for any signs that he was unhappy with his demon’s decision to mark her. When their entities were possessive of someone, they sometimes branded their skin. Those brands would fade once the entities lost interest. “You do?”
“Yes. My demon has good taste.”
“You’re not at all mad?”
He frowned. “Why would I be?”
“Some people don’t like it when their demons mark others.”
“If it had branded anyone other than you, I would have been pissed. How does your demon feel about it?”
“It generally balks at possessiveness, but it’s rather pleased.”
“Good, then all is fine.” He swatted her ass. “Shower.”
She blinked at the abrupt change of subject. Apparently, he truly wasn’t bothered by the brand.
Keeping hold of her, he stood and carried her through the apartment, giving her glimpses of the other rooms. Her brows lifted when they entered the master bedroom. It was as spacious as every other room in the apartment, and she particularly liked the French doors and small terrace.
The off-white shade of paint on the walls made her think of clotted cream, and it matched the color of the lush bedding. It also went nicely with the smooth pine flooring and the built-in pine wardrobe. The rest of the furniture was just as sleek and modern.
He pressed a button on the hi-tech sensor on the wall near an abstract painting, and the ceiling spotlights instantly dimmed.
He padded into the attached private bathroom, which was just as stylish and contemporary. She liked the white/gold color scheme and the luxury walk-in shower.
Pausing, he lowered her to the floor. It was only when she looked up that she saw his gaze had turned inward—a classic sign that he was talking to someone telepathically. Finally, he blinked, and his eyes cleared.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“That was Knox. He outbid everyone on the auction. The blade now belongs to Jolene.”
