Page 26 of Demonic Delights

“I said I wanted to brand you. Not that I wanted to hurt you,” I point out, once again shocking myself in both timelines and realities, if for exactly the opposite reasons. “And I was never going to do it now. I have something much more special in mind.” I trace my hands alongside the swell of her hips. “Let’s call it a draw. Soon I’ll get to brand you. But tonight, I’m at your service.” Closing my fingers around her waist, I pull her closer and then let go, making her sway on her feet. “What’s it going to be? Do you want to spend the night bouncing on my cock? Sit on my face and drown me in your cunt? Have me reach inside you with my fingertips and rub that favourite spot of yours for hours and hours?”

She looks like she wants to refuse even that offer. But I know exactly what to say to her to convince her, what peace offering to lay at her feet.

“Your choice,” I emphasise before delivering my coup de grace. “Tell Daddy how you want him to take care of you.”

Her face changes, like something catches aflame inside it.

“Did you say my choice, Daddy?” she repeats, gloating.

Still holding me firmly by the hair, she inches her hips closer to my face, and then she rubs her clit against my lips. Briefly. Too briefly.

A primal sort of sound claws its way up my throat, but she’s already gone.

“Yes. Your choice,” I confirm, gritting my teeth.

All the while, I want nothing more than to tear myself out of her feeble hold, tackle her to the ground, close my hand around her throat, push her thighs out of the way, and rub her back raw the way I want to rut into her. As the images of her bulging eyes and soundless scream flicker through my mind, a fantasy inside a fantasy, I feel nauseated back in my office and rest my brow against that student’s ruined essay. When I raise my head again, there is a large sweat stain smearing my red pen marks all over the paper.

“Fine. I want your cock. But not in my cunt.” Roxana’s voice is so clear and acute, so immediate, that it pulls me out of the present and back into the memory of my nightmare.

She raises her eyebrows with a sardonic half-smile, waiting for me to grasp her meaning.

“What do you ... oh!”

Her smile widens as she observes my dawning comprehension.

The real me has never really been a fan of all that, and it’s been a long time since I last yielded to Roxana’s very vocal demands to—using her words—fuck her in the arse. But this other me, oh, he’s buzzing with how much he cannot wait to sink inside the vice grip of that tight, tight shaft, filthier and more intimate than the wet cavern of her pussy.

“Please tell me you didn’t throw out my lube as well as my vibrator?” Accusation and humour mix in her voice, but I only register that in retrospect, because in that moment, I’m consumed by the intensity of my hunger for her, primal and violent, the kind that cannot be suppressed, the kind that cannot be denied.

And I see red, boiling blood bursting out of every vein in my pawn’s pitiful, feeble body, so ill-fit to contain me and the power of my dark desires.

“No.” I shake my head vigorously, ignoring the yank of her fingers on my hair. “I did not throw that out.”

I straighten up, forcing her to release me.

“I’ll go upstairs to get it. You, take this off or I’ll rip it off you.” I pull at the strap of her teddy.

“Hey, no more ripping,” she protests. “It unhooks, at the bottom, see ...”

She reaches between her legs, unfastening the small hooks at the garment’s seat. They come apart, and she lifts the now loose front flap to demonstrate that there are no more obstacles in my way. Her clit is deep pink and swollen and coated in the generous slickness of her arousal.

I want to speak, but words fail me, and nothing but a guttural growl rolls off my lips. Roxana grins, victorious, pleased by the effect she has on me. But her smile evaporates and is replaced by shock when I lunge at her. Fingers closing roughly around her soft flesh, I tear her from the spot and half-drag and half-carry her to the sofa.

I force her to bend over its arm, guiding her firmly by my brutal hold on the nape of her neck, no doubt pulling painfully on the strands of her hair trapped underneath my palm. But she doesn’t protest my violence. She wiggles her hips higher, standing on her toes, and she spreads her legs apart in invitation, wide enough for me to see not only her weeping pussy, but also the shy, vulnerable ring of her other entrance.

“Stay,” I choke out before marching away from her.

11

NOT SILAS

Icrash into a dining table chair that’s on my path, knocking it over. I bound up the stairs and burst into the bathroom, wrenching the cabinet door open. Uncaring, I send its contents flying all over the floor as I grab the lube from the back, Roxana’s various cream dispensers clattering as they roll across the tiles.

My thirst rages inside me like an inferno, and running down the stairs, taking them in leaps of two or three at a time, I pull my tee over my head and discard it. I re-enter the kitchen and round the dining table in the direction of the living room, already undoing my belt with a savage tug. The sofa comes into view, parallel with the table, and so does the lower half of Roxana’s body, her smooth, firm legs, and the sharp curve of her arse, still up in the air and ready for me to take it, use it, ravage it ...

I free my dick from my trousers and lather it with lube before I even make it to her.

“I won’t be gentle,” I warn her urgently as I squeeze more lube out of the tub and start spreading it around the tight, inviting place between her arse cheeks.