Page 34 of You Give Me Fever

“Just keep—those eyes—on me,” he commanded between licks and slurps, his little shadow tendrils snaking their way back up her thighs and into her soft, secret places. “I’m here—till daybreak…”

Lord no, I’ll never survive that long, demons or no demons, Clara thought, holding his horns and squeezing them tightly as tidal waves of pleasure slapped at her.

The chorus of hisses and taunts and animal growls from the circle around them grew so loud that Clara was sure she would never tune them out, and she wanted to cry with frustration—until that long tongue split in two, curling around her clit from both sides.

Silence quilted her mind as if she’d stood too near the church bell.

A cloud billowed up from beneath her, heat and sweet thunder rolling and crackling in the atmosphere just below her belly before the storm broke and she rocked back on his mouth, crying out to the ceiling and gripping his horns.

Mine, thought Shiver as he licked every dip and crevice of her to claim that honey he had earned. Mine until the sun dies. Mine.

Chapter

Fourteen

I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU DID AS A BOY… WELL, I DID NOTHING AS A GIRL, SO THERE GOES MY CHILDHOOD

Clara slowly thawed out, moving as if every nerve hurt, when instead she felt like sun-warmed butter. She slowly stretched a leg downward, letting Shiver lower her to a stand.

“That… was mean,” she said.

“A necessary evil to keep your thoughts on me,” said Shiver, still licking the last of her from his lips.

Thinking about him had never really been difficult for Clara, but especially now that she could see him properly. He was once darker than a shadow, but now his skin was a golden brown. He wore an arrogant smirk under his long nose and had eyes that twinkled with the promise of more mischief. His hair was a tangle of dark curls that ended just before broad shoulders she could easily ride again and again. And then there were the horns; couldn’t forget those.

Remembering the way his body had rocked beneath her when she held onto them, she reached up to stroke one, her fingertips bumping along ridges and lines she’d never noticed before.

"Ohh," Shiver's breath caught, that touch shooting straight to his cock.

"I'm sorry, is that… sensitive?" She asked, her terror giving way to her curiosity for a moment. Her goats had always appreciated a good head-scratching, but then, with precious few exceptions, goats were not demons.

"Sensitive, yes, you might say… yes," Shiver caught her wrist before she could take her hand away.

Clara's eyebrows lifted as it clicked into place.

"Oh, I see," she said, stroking upward again, slowly, one finger tracing the ridges up to the sharp tip. Clara kept her eyes on his face, at last seeing the vulnerability there that he could so easily force out of her.

Shiver bit his lip, trying not to show what her touch was doing to him. It was one thing to touch her and make her come with half of Hell watching, but quite another thing to find himself under the spotlight.

"As you said, we have all night," said Clara, suddenly feeling much braver than she had a moment ago, even as warm liquid seeped down the inside of one thigh. "I think it's time I learned a few things about you."

Shiver licked his lips, trying not to think about the many hateful eyes on him— but then thinking of Clara wasn't helpful either, not if he wanted to keep his composure.

"You know plenty about me, girl," he huffed, squirming as she played with the tip of one horn, testing its sharpness against her soft little fingers that, fuck him, he wanted to bite and suck until she⁠—

"Where were you born?"

“I—what?" His sluggish brain scrambled to latch onto her words. Born? Had he even been born? "It's—I can't r-remember, that must have been—hundreds of years ago."

"Try, please," she said, reaching up her other hand to play with his other horn. It wasn't an easy reach for her with Shiver standing a foot and a half above her, but the demon was happy to lower his head to rest against her soft chest.

"I don't—I think there was seawater nearby," he said, just barely catching onto a scrap of a memory. The smell of salt on the air. Those screeching birds. Little white flowers by the shore. Palm trees. “And buildings, massive ones.”

Clara could see this was a struggle for him, and she decided to accept that answer, for the moment. She rubbed the very tips of his horns, watching his face.

"How many humans have you… fed from?"

Damn me twice, and you too for asking, thought Shiver with a wince, knowing his demonic cohorts could all hear his interrogation and see him sweating, and they knew his numbers as well as he did.