Page 18 of Bumpy, the Gargoyle Slayer

“What haven’t I told you that you wish to know?” My fingers move to play with a strand of her golden hair that’s come loose from what she tells me is a “messy bun.”

She rolls to her side to face me. “About how you were created. What your purpose is. Why you weren’t in the fire that destroyed Notre Dame. Why you’re funny but reserved at the same time. Why you…” But suddenly, that red flush brightens her face again.

“Why I, what?” I press, sensing the last is the most important question.

She licks her beautiful lips, nearly killing me by hard-cock in the process. “I don’t…”

“Come on, Bumps. There’s nothing you can ask that will change how I feel about you.”

Her wide eyes widen further before she sends me a small smile. “But that’s my last question. Why are you being so nice? I tried to kill you.”

“I remember, ergo, your status as my fake girlfriend.” Though the pretense is becoming less fiction than biography by the moment.

“I really can act. I’ll fool everyone.”

“Even me?”

Another bright flush of red spreads across her cheeks as she lowers her gaze.

Another notch in my cock. This fake relationship feels far too heavy and important, like I picked up a handful of fool’s gold only to discover it weighs like the real stuff.

Best to ignore that feeling, really.

I force myself to focus on her last question. “I’m generally nice to everyone, unless niceness would contravene or endanger Good. It’s a gargoyle thing, though some of us do go rogue.”

“Which is why I need to know how to kill your Kind,” she interjects. “I have a sacred duty.”

I smooth back her hair again. For a moment, I think she’s going to nuzzle into my hand, but then the moment passes.

Doesn’t matter.

My heart says I’m lying to myself. It matters. It all matters.

I shake off the thoughts. “I left the book for you to read, but the synopsis is that you can kill my kind by dousing us in fire that’s been alighted with holy oil. It’s why so many of my brethren died in the conflagration at Notre Dame.”

Her eyes widen again. They’re wide enough to swallow my heart. “Because there was holy oil in the church?”

I nod. That, and because I think one of my Kind was deliberately targeted. Until I know for certain, I’ll call it an accident.

“I’m so sorry, Alain. I… that must be hard.”

“It is.”

She reaches out and lays her hand over my heart. Sympathy flows from her into me… and I’m lost. No one has ever offered me comfort before. I don’t know what to do with it.

I’m the strong one. I’m the protector. I’m the one who should be holding her safe against anything wishing to hurt her, not the other way around.

To distract her, and me, I raise her hand to my lips and press a heated kiss to her palm. “I’m glad you’re playing for the same team,” I whisper, holding her gaze hostage. “I’d feel guilty otherwise for wanting to do illicit things to you.”

Bright red spills all the way down from her forehead to the top of her gown from which her breasts spill. On her side, they produce a tantalizing hollow.

“Alain, I don’t… that is… could we…?”

And suddenly, she’s the only thing in my world. No future, no past, no duty. Only her, and me needing with everything in me to satisfy this ache in my loins.

“Fuck? Yes, we could.”

“And become a real…?”