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“On Earth, maybe. But in Hell, the rules are different,” she whispers. Then she turns to head back down the hallway in the direction we came. “Come on. I want to go back to the shop.”
“And do what? Shouldn’t we try to figure this out?” I ask, trying to keep in step with her. Several of my co-workers crane their necks to gawk at her as she passes. I want to punch every single one of them. Faith might not be mine, not really, but I still feel oddly territorial over her. She’s my demon.Mine.
She jabs the button to call the elevator and sighs. “No. I’m not spending my final hours on Earth running around trying to stave off the inevitable. I want to do something else. Something fun. Please, Byron. Just let me do something fun. And in the meantime, I can get back to cleaning up your soul.”
When her eyes meet mine, they’re pleading. Desperate. She needs this. And I need to push my pride and fear away long enough to give her exactly what she wants. I nod.
“What did you have in mind?” I ask.
Her lips curl into a soft smile, then she steps into the elevator. I follow her. “Oh, I have a few ideas.”
I should have suspectedwhat Faith’s idea of “fun” would be. Once again, I’m tied up to the damn chair with Red Vines candy, only this time, she’s left my hands free.
“What’s the deal?” I ask, wiggling my fingers. “Going to let me touch you this time? Want another hand necklace?”
“I just needed to be sure you wouldn’t get distracted while I explain this next part to you,” Faith says as she bends over to rummage through her creepy leather bag. I still haven’t asked about it, and I’m not going to. The less I know, the better.
“Since when do I not listen to you?” I tease, and then my throat hitches when I catch sight of her dress hiking up her pert, round ass, giving me a glorious view of the teeny, tiny black thong shimmying between her slit. “I-I listen.”
Faith straightens and smooths the wrinkles of her dress, and while I’m disappointed to see her perfect ass disappear, I’m just as happy to look at her face. Even though we’re back in the shop, she hasn’t bothered with the intense makeup, allowing me to take in her natural demonic features. I grin. Yup. Still beautiful, horns and all. Her tail swishes playfully back and forth as she holds up what I can only describe as a mini blow torch. In her other hand, she’s holding an iron bar.
My brows lift. “Uh. Are you branding me or something?”
“Close,” she chirps. “We’re going to explore temperature play!”
I blink, thinking about that one scene inTop Gunwhere an ice cube was used. Sure. I guess that’s fine. It’s not likeshe’s going to actually blow torch me, right? Faith hasn’t done anything I haven’t enjoyed yet, so I shrug and say, “Okay. I’m game. Let’s get to it.”
Faith stares at me like I just suggested we go rob a liquor store and rolls her eyes. “No, honey. We can’t just ‘get to it.’ I need to explain things to you first, so you know what to expect, and then we need to go over safety.”
I place my arms behind my head and grin. “What’s there to talk about? It’s just hot and cold, right? I had a girl use hot wax on me once. It was fine.”
Faith presses the button on her mini blow torch and a streak of orange fire bursts from the tip. “Does this look like fucking hot wax to you, Byron?”
Faith snaps her fingers, and suddenly I’m being hoisted up from the chair and hanging from the ceiling by the candy vines. Again. Look, I’m not about to tell my demonic mistress that we’ve already done this and that I’m craving something a little different, but…
Then she strides toward me and pulls out a satin blindfold. “We are going to slip this on,” she murmurs, and then pulls the blindfold down snugly over my eyes until everything goes completely dark. Boring. I can’t stare at her tits like this, so what’s even the point?
“It’s no fun if I can’t see you,” I whine, slightly perturbed.
Her tail cracks down on my ass. Hard. I flinch, because I wasn’t expecting pain yet, especially not in that area of my body.
“Trust me, it’s loads of fun when you can’t see what’s coming,” she promises. Fucking touché, then. “Now, listen carefully, because I’m going to run down the rules of safety when it comes to temperature play, okay?” For the next ten minutes, she goes over safety with me and explains everything carefully like I’m five. Then she clicks the button on her blow torch again,and I writhe against my bonds purely by instinct. Fire. Fire hurts. And it hurts in a not-so-fun way.
“Hey, wait a sec,” I say. “What are you going to do?”
I hear her steps on the left side of my body, and then she stops. She runs her nails across my back until my skin pebbles in goosebumps. Ah, God. That actually feels… a lot better than before, because I can’t see it coming. Okay, so I can admit when I’m wrong. And I was definitely wrong about this.
“Nothing you won’t enjoy. I’m only going to touch the soles of your feet with it. Do you remember your safe word?”
I nod. “Yeah. Of course.”
“Then let’s begin,” she says as she drags one of her nails into my lower back, so hard my eyes water. Damn, it hurts, but I also don’t want her to stop. Faith goes eerily silent for a minute, and for a moment I’m worried she’s left me hanging—literally—in the shop. But then I feel it. Scorching heat on the back of my foot’s heel for half a second. I yelp, and Faith laughs.
“Did you just burn me?”
“No. Your feet are fine, don’t you worry,” she says with a dark chuckle. “I grazed you. But if you need to stop, you can—”
No. No way am I ruining our remaining time together by turning tail at the first sign of discomfort. Besides, the sensation was oddly addicting. I’ve never thought to incorporate this sort of thing into the bedroom before. I burn myself from time to time just lighting candles. But being a torture demon from Hell comes with a few perks, such as knowing how to actually wield fire without maiming your target with third-degree burns. Still, my baser instincts beg me to pull away from a flame, not allow it to touch me, but in this case, I’m willing to experiment. For her. And for myself, of course. Pushing my boundaries has been strangely cathartic.
