Page 7 of Our Monstrous Hearts

This feeling—I have never experienced anything like it before, and I want to cry from relief and joy.

The demoness comes up behind me, her breasts pushing against my back. I groan again at the thought of someone so beautiful spoiling me with attention.

My body chases the desire it craves, and I fall into her embrace, my head swimming, inebriated with lust. She’s beautiful, her long, silky hair as dark as night, skin cherry-red. Her eyes are a deeper shade of crimson than her complexion, and I stare up into them, wondering if she would keep me if I asked.

Soft hands roam, palming and squeezing my breasts before sharp fingers catch my nipples, pinching until a squeal and a moan escape in the same breath.

Never have I been touched like this before, and I’m afraid that I’ll become addicted, craving to explore this new world of sexual gratification.

But there is no room for any more thinking.

Not when kisses scorch my neck and up my jaw before slowing, as if to give me the chance to decide. They trail toward the side of my lips. I tilt my head, giving in to desire, and my mouth catches hers—soft and sweet. Drunk heat winds through my veins.

Her tongue probes the seam of my lips and I open unashamedly. We connect through shared breath with each deep, consuming kiss. My head swims, pulse quickening. Her fingers continue to roam the flesh of my breasts. I hesitate before reaching out to run my own hands along her skin with feather-like touch. As my lust grows, so does my boldness.

I pant and groan, reveling in the feeling of her lips moving mercilessly against mine, tongue licking across my teeth and dipping into my mouth.

Gasping, I pull away, instantly mourning the loss of her touch but needing to find my breath. I try to blink through the intoxicating haze.

I sway in euphoric dizziness before I sense a heavy darkness crawling over my skin.

The ecstasy curdles, twisting into something sharp, wrong, the sweetness fading as it sours.

Everything in my body freezes as I look across the room, searching for the source of this twisted uneasiness. And then, there he is. Watching me, ruby-red eyes glistening, teeth ready to consume.

I can’t seem to look away, stuck in his thrall as the demons—his demons––play with my body. He is the wicked god of this depraved playground, and we are his subjects.

He forces my gaze to remain on his, and a deep, guttural groan fills my throat. Despite gaping at his decaying, corpse-like face, my pleasure climbs higher.

The burning ache in my core takes over, pushing me to unravel at a disturbing speed while terror thrums around me, unrelenting. They drag me in both directions at once.

His parasitic attention claws into my thoughts, allowing him to share every pulse of my release. I shudder, neck jerking, skin crawling.

“Oh, God,” I sob on a stuttering breath. Something unhinged flashes in his eyes—madness, burning and wild just for me.

My own eyes flutter shut, only to jerk open at a sudden whoosh of movement, the displaced air whipping my hair across my brow. He flies towards me at a rapid speed, snapping his teeth like a rabid beast with his hands outstretched, ready to take me for himself.

Chapter VI

Cassandra

My chest shudders as I gasp for air, and I realize I’m staring at the ceiling, that I’ve been returned to the castle bedroom.

The demons and their dancing are gone.

All that I’m left with is an aching body that throbs with need and leaves me breathless. I mentally replay how the demoness caressed my skin, the sensations that sparked with every touch.

“I didn’t know that I could like women too,” I confess quietly.

The soft blanket slips across my skin as I dig my fingers in, clutching onto it in a bid to reclaim sanity and safety, to try to stop myself from exploring my body as I relive the revelry. To try to stop myself from tumbling over the edge and surrendering my soul.

I’m afraid that I would if it meant I could feel that pleasure again.

As a shadow looms above me, my heartbeat begins to thrash loudly, a feeling of terror weaving into my muscles. The monster is back. I whimper weakly, but I can’t work out if they are noises of fear or need.

I can’t blink.

I can’t look away.