Chapter Twenty-Three #3
“I was wondering about your mother.” Did demons even have mothers? There was so little I knew.
“After that, my mother is what you think about first?” He gave me a mocking look. “You have quite an intriguing mind, Hastings.”
I made a moue, pleased at least that he hadn’t taken offense. I inched up the bed and got onto it fully, moving so I was lying with my head on the pillows and not sideways. He did the same, then flung his hand across me.
“My mother was a demon as well,” he said.
“She did the same work as Phenex but was less traitorous. She was a good mother, surprisingly—demons seldom make good parents—but she left when I was perhaps twenty years old. I’m not certain where she went.
That was fine, it was past time she left,” he added hastily, likely in response to my shocked expression.
I wondered how old he was now—it seemed as though he was my age, but I had no idea of a demon’s aging process.
“Is that where you get your looks?” I asked. “Because it’s not from your father.”
He chortled, laughing so hard he cried. I tried—and failed—not to feel smug.
“Indeed. She was very beautiful.”
“You—do you have any children?” Something I should have asked before, I supposed, but I wasn’t all that well-versed in the having-an-affair-with-a-being-from-Hell thing, so I should give myself a bit of accommodation.
“No,” he said. “Nor any permanent commitments, if that is what you are wondering.” He leaned forward and gave me an almost tender kiss. “You’re the only one who has occupied my mind for some time now, Cora.”
“Oh,” I replied softly.
I turned on my side to face him, cradling my cheek on my hand. “You might just be saying that because I am human, and we are annoyingly pedestrian when it comes to entanglements, but I very much appreciate you saying this. Thank you.”
“I’m not just saying anything, Cora,” he replied in a solemn voice. “I lie. But I’m not lying now.”
Well. This whole conversation was illuminating but also not particularly sexy. And he was thus unfulfilled, since only I’d climaxed.
I glanced down for confirmation, and, yes, he was clearly erect, though not quite as much as before.
I was mucking this up, wasn’t I?
“And now what is it?”
He was so attuned to my change of expressions, it was unnerving and also wonderful. That someone would pay such close attention to every facial nuance was incredibly flattering.
“I was thinking,” I said, gesturing toward his nether regions, “that we are not doing what we had intended to do. That is, it was entirely me that began this line of questioning, but it’s not achieving our goal.”
“And what is our goal?” he asked in an amused voice.
“To finally do all the things we’ve both been wanting to do to each other since we met!” I exclaimed.
He laughed, then grabbed my ass, holding it in a firm grip as he drew me toward him. “We can get on with it, then, Miss Impatient,” he said.
“That’s Lady Impatient to you, my lord,” I replied, sliding my hand down through the opening of his smallclothes to clasp his penis.
He closed his eyes and shuddered as I ran my fingers around his shaft, not yet beginning to stroke but just fondling so I could tease him a little bit. I played for a few moments until he grasped my wrist. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he rasped.
“The little death, I hope,” I shot back.
He groaned, likely both from the bad pun and from what I was doing.
“We should take the rest of our clothes off,” I said, taking my hand away and sitting up so I could put words to action. I tossed my shift to the floor, then yanked at his smallclothes, sliding them down his legs, at which point he kicked them somewhere.
And then there he was, resplendent in all his stunning demonic beauty. I’d seen statues and paintings of various naked men, but none of what I’d seen was nearly as gorgeous as him.
His chest was broad and muscular, tapering down to a slim waist. He had a trail of dark hair leading down to his penis but was otherwise relatively hairless, which allowed me to see his pale skin—no surprise, I didn’t think the sun made it to Hell very often.
His legs were long and just as muscular, and even his feet looked pretty, which was remarkable in and of itself. I’d never thought feet would or could be attractive, but apparently Marcellus’s would prove me wrong.
“I like how you look at me,” he said.
“Mm,” I replied. I got onto my knees and straddled him, my knees on the outsides of his legs.
His erection rose up right in front of me, and I put both hands on it, one hand gripping the bottom and the other beginning to slide up and down.
I licked my hand quickly to give it some moisture and then began to stroke, watching his face, watching his muscles tighten as I kept up my motion.
He put his hands to my breasts and began to caress them, making them ache.
I felt my quim begin to respond again, and I shifted so I could get pressure just there where I wanted it.
He noticed and gave me a knowing smile, then suddenly flipped me over onto my back and got on top of me, his shaft nudging at my entrance.
I yelped, then wrapped my arms around him. “You are very quick, my lord.”
“I can go slow when needed,” he said. He bent his head to capture my nipple with his mouth, beginning to suck it and lick it with an enthusiasm I much appreciated.
I widened my legs to accommodate him better, and he shifted so his penis was almost inside—not quite, since I expected that would hurt a bit, what with it being my first time—but enough so I felt it. I had to say it felt good.
“More,” I said, my voice sounding strangled.
He reached down to grasp himself and push a little farther in, continuing to lavish attention on both my breasts, his mouth on one and his fingers on another. Like before, the sensations were overwhelming, in an entirely good way, and I somehow liked the pain of his entry inside me.
Then he lifted his head and kissed me, plundering my mouth as he pushed the rest of the way inside, swallowing my gasps. “Are you all right?” he asked in a low voice.
“Absolutely,” I said staunchly. “Do your worst.”
“Or my best,” he said, sounding entirely smug.
I’d heard enough from Lily—to my utter embarrassment—to know that climaxing through intercourse alone, for the woman at least, was highly unlikely, but I didn’t want to burst his confidence.
And, I thought briefly, it turned out the male of any species thought they could do things other men could not, and Marcellus was no different.
He began to move, sliding out, and then in again. It felt…different. Pleasurable in some ways and uncomfortable in others, but altogether immersive. I followed his rhythm and moved with him, hoping I was doing the right thing but guessing I was from his various groans and facial expressions.
I ran my hands over his deliciously muscled back and put my lips to his neck, which I nipped at before sucking gently.
Meanwhile, his movements were getting faster and faster, and I could tell he was on his way to his own peak, which made me feel entirely powerful and sensual—that I, Cora Hastings the Human, could bring the literal son of the Devil to climax felt excellent.
And then he shouted, and I felt his release inside me, and then he gave one last groan and collapsed on top of me, his face buried in the bedspread.
“I might never move again,” he said after a few minutes.
“We have all night,” I reminded him.
He raised his head and looked into my eyes. “Was that as expected?” I was oddly touched that he sounded hesitant—as though this confidently charming demon might not be certain he had been satisfactory.
“Entirely as expected,” I said, kissing him quickly.
“Oh good. Wake me when we have to go to the Exhibition,” he said, then put his head down again.
His vulnerability, both in asking how it was and in allowing himself just to be with me—for once, not the confident being who knew what his impact was but someone who could take some much-needed rest lying on top of me—made me feel so poignantly aware of how much I’d fallen for him.