Chapter 7
SEVEN
HANNAH
He wraps those massive hands around his absolutely ginormous shaft, and I swear every instinct in me screams abort mission, scramble off the bed, live another day.
Because Jesus Christ, is he really about to try and shove that goddamn tree trunk into me?
I mean, I’ve heard of jumping in the deep end, but—
His huge body leans over me, wings flaring outward around us, blocking out the light like he’s wrapping me in a private, forbidden cocoon.
And—wait. He doesn’t stink like earlier. I figured he was going into the lake to hunt some food or something, but was he actually… taking a bath? For me?
My mind races as I clutch the sheets, heart pounding, while his still-dripping lion’s mane brushes down toward my breasts. Oh shit. With those teeth, he could shred me in half—
But before the panic can set in, a warm, wet tongue drags across my nipple, shocking me after the icy drip of his hair.
And while I can feel the heavy pulsing of his cock pressing against my thigh, he just lets it rest there. Not forcing. Just there. Like a promise.
He licks all around my left nipple with that rough, rasping tongue, slow and deliberate.
I gasp, and my back arches up off the bed. Which he apparently takes as a good sign, because his leonine mouth closes fully around my suddenly aching nipple.
I blink, dazed, and my hand shoots from the sheets to clutch at his mane. Jesus, why am I holding onto his wet hair? Like I’m—
As if I’m—
He maneuvers his mouth, teeth scraping, just the barest graze of danger against my over-sensitive tip. Then he pulls back. And does it again.
Nibbling. With those teeth.
I screech, but it’s not fear this time. It’s a breathy, shocked little moan of… pleasure.
What the actual hell is happening?
Is he a literal demon? He mentioned an angel-spark. Is that why one touch of his raspy tongue and those menacing teeth against my hard nipple have me—
My hips jerk up without my permission.
And there it is again: the absolute ship’s mast of a cock pressing into my thigh. He pulses, needy, and leans heavier into me.
The jolt of it ricochets through my whole body while my free hand scrambles up to his head, where I encounter one of his massive horns. I grip it hard, not even sure if I’m trying to push him away or anchor myself to him forever.
One more swipe of his tongue and my stomach spasms. Low, insistent, electric heat rushes between my legs like a live wire snapping.
Holy crap. My eyes fly wide. Is this what it feels like to... come?
I blink rapidly, trying to process the overload of sensation as the demon toys with my body. He releases my left breast with a wet little pop only to descend hungrily on the right.
Immediately, his tongue circles, teasing until the nipple pebbles hard, and then those teeth again, the softest nip, make me cry out.
God. With Drew… sex was never like this.
Sometimes it even hurt. He never wanted to try different positions to make things easier for me.
We just did it the way he liked, and he always reached for the lube because I never got very wet.
He said some women were just like that. That it wasn’t my fault.
And I believed him.
I took comfort in thinking I was just one of those broken women.
But now? My body clearly disagrees.
I stare up at the ceiling, fingers buried in mane and horn while his mouth keeps working me over and that solid weight against my thigh twitches with every lick, every bite.
Holy shit. When he said he healed me, did he mean this part of me, too? The part that could actually make me feel alive?
I wrench hard on his horns as I cry out, hips surging up. Without meaning to, my legs fall open. Just a little more.
He growls deep in his chest, releasing my nipple. I barely have time to gasp before his head shifts lower. I let go of his horns and push up on my elbows, desperate to speak—to say wait, or slow down, or something—
But then I see it. His long, unnatural tongue, sliding out, hungry and seeking.
One clawed hand anchors my leg against the mattress, widening me further.
I’m completely exposed.
Okay. This is it. This is where he shoves that giant log inside me. It’ll hurt, like when Drew forgot the lube that one time, but I can handle that. I always handled it.
You can do this, I tell myself. Just close your eyes. Think about your next painting.
I squeeze my eyes shut and drop back flat against the bed. It’s fine, a good trade. My health for a monster’s release.
But then, his claws retract. Huge hands graze my hips, almost tender, and hold me open.
And despite myself, I know this time I won’t need lube.
Because I’m slick. So very slick for him.
Not just slick. Drenched.
I finally understand what women mean when they say they get wet. And God help me, I’m wet for this.
It feels like a betrayal. I thought if I got my miracle, I could show up at Drew’s doorstep whole, his equal.
Instead, I’m here, legs spread by a demon’s claws, my pussy open to the cool air of the castle room.
I wish he’d just do it already, shove in and stretch me wide, let me focus on the burn instead of the storm in my head—
But I suddenly feel the icy strands of his mane slide against my hot inner thighs. My head jerks up, startled. What the hell is he—?
And then his long, rough tongue licks a slow, devastating line up my pussy.