Page 44 of Demonic Delights

Bliss invades every one of my cells. It tingles in my fingertips. It curls my toes. It yanks my eyelids right up and causes my eyes to roll back, and it flushes my body with heat, rushing through me in seismic waves.

“Fuck, this is so much better than my rabbit!” I force out breathlessly as I tip over the edge and crash into the sizzling pits of my climax, jerking and seizing and erupting in sweat.

“I told you, you wouldn’t be needing it anymore,” he tells me, withdrawing his tongue once I recover from a few moments of complete unawareness of anything, the date, the year, my surroundings, my own name, anything but the euphoria rushing through my blood like danger.

And even though I have my own reasons to disagree with his statement, I keep my mouth shut on the subject, and instead only mewl: “I want more of you, Daddy. I want everything. Breed me.”

With a smirk, he straightens up and gets off the bed to discard his trousers, seemingly made of smoke. But when he does and I comprehend what my eyes are telling me, I gasp in protest, “There’s no fucking way.”

Because the rock-hard length in his grasp is so huge that I couldn’t wrap my hands around it. Its surface is smoke-covered, same as the rest of his body, but the popping veins are blazing like volcanic lava lines, and some of the familiar hazy red substance is leaking from its tip like precum.

“It’ll never fit!”

I close my legs defensively before he can get between them. He grasps my knees as if meaning to yank them apart, his long, taloned fingers reaching nearly to the middle of my thighs. My heart speeds up, and my breath shortens.

“It will fit,” he counters harshly, but then a softer note diffuses his tone, “Look away from the mirror now, dark darling.” And then, when I don’t move, frozen in shock, he repeats, “Roxana, turn your head and look at me.”

I peel my eyes away from the reflection, and they land on the familiar human visage of my husband, his chest heaving monumentally and a breathless grin on his face. I chance a sideways glance at the mirror while still keeping him in my vision, and now I can see both his forms, a human and a demon, Silas and Sangrel, both kneeling at my feet on the bed.

“Eyes forward.”

I do as I’m told, snapping my gaze away from the reflection to Silas’s familiar, bearded face.

“See, you can take me like this, can’t you?” he croons. “Spread those legs for me.”

I do, if somewhat reluctantly.

“That’s it, just a little more.”

Sliding his fingers down my thighs towards my hips, he leans over and ploughs into me, his lips meeting mine in a kiss at the same time. Then he starts fucking me in a way that I know is intended to maximise my pleasure, rutting into me in slow, forceful snaps, angled so that he’s putting all the pressure on my front wall. His cock is grazing my G-spot slowly and laboriously, as if wading through resistance. He carries on until I’m arching my back and moaning, his every thrust accompanied by the loud slaps of our flesh and the wet sounds of my arousal.

I bite my lip until I taste blood, and I reach up to run my fingers through his hair, tugging at tufts of it.

“Does that feel good, dark darling?” His palm cups my face.

“Uhhhmm, yes, Daddy, so fucking good.”

I suck on his thumb.

“You look so beautiful falling apart for me,” he rasps and then commands me, “Eyes on the mirror now.”

I obey and tilt my head to the side, locking my eyes with those of my ethereal reflection. Then my sight slides up my arms to my hands on top of his head. And the sensation between my fingers changes from feeling the silky waves of Silas’s hair to something rough and rounded, something solid.

Because in the mirror, I’m holding Sangrel’s horns as he continues bucking his hips against mine, deliberately slow and careful, his features hard set with the effort of restraining himself. I can see now that he’s not sliding into me in full. And it is then that I realise the extent to which he’s holding back, when my eyes land on the unsheathed portion of the thick, threatening length between his and my thighs. It is then that I finally ... feel him.

“FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!” I grit through my clenched teeth, gripping his horns for support until my knuckles turn white.

I’m filled to the brim and bursting full of the sizzling heat radiating off his cock and sending shock waves through me as he puts pressure on every sensitive spot inside me. Careful as he is, he’s stretching me impossibly tight, and it feels like just one incautious movement would be enough to split me apart. And I’m realising that we were both right, because he really could kill me like this, but fuck if it wouldn’t be one hell of a way to go.

Ecstasy is slashing through my nerve endings, obliterating me from the inside out. I’m melting away around the site of our connection, boneless and shapeless, and unable to move, unable to breathe, bliss raking from my core to my extremities in tingling ripples, and I open my mouth but no sound comes out, and here it is, I’m toppling right over the edge, my lungs are collapsing, my heart is giving out, my eyes roll back, darkness descends and the world around ceases to exist—I cease to exist—and there’s nothing anymore. No thought or sensation. Nothing but an absolute, all-encompassing pleasure.

When I come to, I’m not looking into the mirror, and so the first thing I see is Silas’s face, ordinarily human except for the eyes. And the first thing I feel is the touch of his left hand, the edge of his wedding band scraping gently over my jaw.

I turn my head and focus with all my might on the looming shadowy figure in the mirror. Soon, I feel the scorching heat of his body again, and I feel the imposition of him still lodged deeply in my core, his cock throbbing with unyielding need against my battered cervix.

Seeing that I’m ready, Sangrel readies himself for a thrust, pulling out of me to the tip, further stretching the already tight edges of my entrance.

“From behind!” I cut in before he drives back into me. “I want you from behind. I want to see your face in the mirror when you flood me on the inside.”