Page 130 of Demon Food

“Not your concern,” he said. “Your eyes stay on me.”

I nodded, fixing my gaze on him as his unearthly hands began to fondle my ass roughly, squeezing my cheeks together, stretching them apart, as if it was some ritual.

My cock ached for him. My hole ached.

He spat into his cupped palm, but it wasn’t saliva. I could tell by the amount, by the glistening, milky texture. It was the kingdom’s most perfect lubricant, and he created it naturally, without a passing thought, as if his instincts had fully taken over.

My heart thundered in anticipation as I leaned forward, draped over his thigh as I dramatically arched my spine, baring my ass. He reached it easily with a stretch of his long arm, his warm fingers massaging lubricant over my hole, and then more while his ghost hands spread my ass cheeks wide.

I’d never been more ready. An eager noise huffed past my lips, and it felt like a release when it finally happened. He pressed his thick, lubed finger inside me.

I melted. I melted so fast. The sting was delicious, and I leaned all the way into it, inviting it deeper as he continued to drink from me, enough to coat me in pleasure.

Then another finger slid inside me, and it was so thick that it pried a strangled moan from my lips.

“I will take anything I want,” came his dark voice, slipping down my spine.

“You will take anything you want,” I repeated, like I was compelled.

“I will consume you.”

“You will consume me.”

“You will worship me.”

“I will worship—” I gasped.

Another finger. A third finger.

It was his, but not his because this one was too hot, or maybe too impossibly cold as it pressed inside my body, stretching me wide. I didn’t have time to react when he drank a massive gulp from my energy that had the pain transforming into unlawful pleasure.

“Show me, human.” His strong hand curled around the nape of my neck and tugged my mouth to his cock. “Show me how well you fucking worship.”

I whimpered, my own cock leaking precum as I began to lick his. He tasted so delicious; so like him. Like charred cedar, rich earth, and a touch of something sweet. Always with the sweetness.

Fuck, the pleasure was insane. Intense as he pressed his fingers—all three of them—as far as they would go, stretching me mercilessly.

Then they were moving, thrusting in and out, penetrating me, so fucking wet, in a way that didn’t make sense to my brain. But I could feel it. I could feel the lubricant dripping in slick rivulets down my shaking thighs as he fucked me with his fingers.

He stroked his long cock, pulling my lips to his balls, urging me to work my tongue there, and I did. I licked them like they were the whipped icing of a warm cake. Like the hungry, subservient thing I was.

Heat bloomed in my core, and I couldn’t help it. I had to stroke myself.

“What did I say?” he asked, tipping my head back by my hair to meet his ever-changing gaze. Red and black and deep and dark.

I breathed, “You said not to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Touch myself.”

“And what have you done?” He smiled. “You should be taught a lesson.”

I nodded as the room pulsed with so much heat that I felt flushed with it. It was as invigorating as it was intense, and I couldn’t tell where I ended and the augmenin began. “Yes, my prince.”

He gripped the angel bone blade still stabbed into the mattress and yanked. My eyes widened in wonder as feathers danced into the air.

A slow, moon-white smile stretched across his mouth, and his beauty was nearly too much to bear. He was the night and the stars and the serenity of the forest, and my solar plexus heated, stoking hot like a roaring fire as feathers fell around us like ashes.