Uninvited Guest
Chapter Twenty
Kahill
I’m mid-thrust when the flap at the entrance to my tent peels open.
Light streams in from the roaring fires of the camp, casting dancing shadows over the bodies strewn across my bed.
The man beneath me turns his head, but I tighten my grip around his neck in warning.
He should be too goddamn busy taking me to pay attention to newcomers. And if he wasn’t, he will be.
I brand his ass with my handprint in rapid succession and force him to take me deeper. The heady slide of his channel squeezing around my cock pulls a groan from me because fuck if he isn’t the sweetest thing I’ve had in ages.
This is why virgins are my catnip. They’re so ripe. Plucking and pillaging a hole that’s never been breached—there’s nothing like it. Also, the thrill I get from being the one compelling them to fall from grace is an addiction I don’t wish to cure myself of anytime soon.
He succumbs to the pleasure, mewling unintelligible curses as he buries his face in my bedsheets.
Three women occupy the bed beside us and are currently enjoying themselves as they trade places and please one another.
My thrall has well and truly taken hold; neither their hands nor their mouths stay idle for long.
They’ve also taken advantage of the many toys I’ve acquired and are making great use of them.
The heady pleasure wafting off them soaks into my skin. I breathe it in, not sucking, but letting the power simply sink into me and feed the demon who relishes such things. The one who lives vicariously through me.
It’s the same throughout the large tent.
Different groups are paired off. The ones who’ve been here the longest are tangled in a pile of bodies on the floor, rutting like animals—so lost to the pheromones I’m exuding that they know only hunger.
An itch no amount of bodies, drugs, or drink can satisfy.
I’d be right there in the thick of it if the tension riding me all day had been manageable. If my mind weren’t still partially engaged, searching for the answer to whatever has me feeling off-center.
The new recruit—with his baby face and blond hair so much like Pollock’s—was impossible to pass up. He wandered into the melee wearing that wide-eyed, innocent look that gets me every damn time.
I love breaking in the newbies, men and women like him, showing them all what they’ve been missing, and his shocked expression pulled a deep laugh from me. I instantly felt his nervous energy, which screamed virgin—so sexually inexperienced that this orgy scandalized his prudish sensibilities.
A large shadow draws over our group, and a presence, one I know well, his scent of winter mountain air, and the hunt, invades my senses.
“You joining in, or are you just here to ruin my fun?”
As if to disguise his visit, Pollock wears a black cloak and a mask to cover the lower part of his face. “Good Lord, the smell. I don’t know how any of them stand it.”
“What? Does the smell of semen disturb you that much? I know you’re a killjoy, but every man enjoys the scent of sex in the air.”
“I do, but not to this degree. It smells like you all haven’t left the tent for days.”
“Some haven’t.”
I run my hand down the spine in front of me and then grip his hip as I swirl mine.
Pollock’s eyes venture down to where our bodies connect.
It’s a glimpse, really, but having his gaze on my cock as I pull out and thrust back in does wonders for me.
Quirking a brow, I watch him watch me and gauge his reaction.
He shifts on his feet, and his eyes stray to a dark corner of the tent. A safe corner. His stance has grown colder, a contradiction to that brief flash of interest and the acceleration of the stalwart heart that beats in his chest.
Hope grows from the smallest of things.
I fall victim to the quick thump dah-thump thump dah-thump as if it’s an open door into his bedchambers each and every damn time I hear it.
Yet he remains the one virgin I’ve never been able to coax to my bed, no matter how hard I try.
But that’s all it is. This need to have him beneath me—taste the forbidden. To sink my teeth into the one thing I can’t have.
Not a craving, but a compulsion. To conquer the unconquerable.
“Need a word with you, Kahill.”
“Oh, do you now?”
“Yes, I sent men to bring you here. Your men sent them away.”
“Probably because they knew I was otherwise engaged, as you can see.”
“This can’t wait.”
“Go ahead then, if it’s that important. I’m all ears.” I reach around the man’s hip and flip him. Then raise his athletic legs and place his calves on my shoulders, raising his ass up high so Pollock can see everything his little heart desires, but his head denies.
Being the gracious lover that I am, I grab the bottle of lube on the bed and add a few more drops to my cock. It’s part show, to taunt Pollock, and partly to ease the glide.
I quickly coat my shaft, which is covered in runes, and notch the tip at his entrance.
The recruit’s abused hole resists at first, having closed in my absence.
So I work to stretch him back open, watching with rapt attention as his ass struggles to accept my piercings once again.
Though pleasure-inducing, they’re always an issue with partners not accustomed to taking dick on the regular.
“Can you stop for a second?” Pollock sneers.
The quick eye contact before he again turns away has a smile splitting across my face.
“Why? I can manage if you can. I’m good at multitasking or pleasing more than two people at once. You’d know that if you stopped rejecting my offers once in a while. You never know… it might do you some good.”
He’s silent except for the frustrated exhale he delivers before speaking. “I still can’t reach Orán, and I sense something…something’s not right.”
“You're just worried because of what I told you.”
“Possibly, but it feels as if it’s more than that. Do you not sense it?”
The tension in my shoulders, the disorderly thoughts that had continued to disturb my focus today. I couldn’t pinpoint where the issue drawing my attention was coming from, and yes, it had been driving me mad.
My thrusts slow. I groan in frustration because fuuuck, I need this release, but he’s also right. After pulling out, I slap the man’s thigh. “Go,” I say, jutting my chin to the right. He’s slow to leave me, and his eyes plead for more, but he eventually follows my command.
I draw on that wrongness and let it overwhelm me to better grasp where it might be coming from. Pollock left my side momentarily and is back now with a shirt and a pair of leathers. He holds them out to me. When I don’t immediately take them, he arches an eyebrow.
“What? Does my nudity offend you?”
“I’d rather not have your monster cock trying to poke my eye out while we discuss this.”
I look down and back up to meet his face.
My grin is all devil and mayhem. “By monster, I hope you mean size and not shape, because if not, I think you just hurt my feelings. And just a note for future reference, I accept apologies in the way of blow jobs.” It’s a jest, one he finds no amusement in.
“It’s…”
“What?” I stroke myself and am quite pleased to have his attention riveted on where I’d most like his mouth. Maybe he’s finally considering giving in.
“Is that even normal? Do you need all that hardware, and…” He lowers his voice so we’re not overheard. “Do all demons have…” He motions to my dick.
“Massive cocks?” I shrug. I’m fully erect.
A solid nine inches and thick as a bull.
Not that I go about inspecting bulls’ dicks, but you know.
“Most do, but not like this, and I have to say, I appreciate your comparison. Never had my dick referenced as something akin to that of a fictional beast. And no, not all demons are this blessed. I’m… special. But you know that already.”
I rub my thumb over the tip and swipe at the ribbon of cum there. When I pop said thumb into my mouth, he grimaces, presses the back of his hand to his mouth, and momentarily closes his eyes as if he might retch.
Chuckling and curious, I ask, “What, you’ve never sampled your own cum?”
“I meant the bloody ridges,” he mutters under his breath.
Feeling a bit gleeful at riling him up, I press my luck.
“Mmm. So good. Like roasted honeydew-coated chestnuts, with a hint of caramel. You really don’t know what you’re missing.
” My inner demon purrs and sends a wealth of possible positions into my head.
Ways in which I could wield his body, make him succumb to my every desire.
Total debauchery. I hum in agreement because, yes. This.
His body is filled to the brim with tension—rigidity in his shoulders and the ticking of his jaw.
When his eyes flash open, he thrusts the clothing into my chest and turns on his heel.
As he storms out of the tent, he calls back, “Meet me outside. And clean the fuck up. I can’t talk to you when you smell like a brothel. ”
“Why do you always have to be such a godforsaken puritan!”
“Better than a whoreson!”
“Not in my book.”
“Your book would have been burned at the stake along with Satan’s daughters.”
To the now watchful eyes staring at me around the room, I say, “Only a handful of those were real blood heirs.”
Dumbfounded expressions greet my comment as if none of them appear to know what I’m talking about. History and humanity are funny like that. Give a race fragile minds, time, and free will, and they’ll focus on the present and forget the past. Even rewrite it to fit their agenda.
Loudly and with feeling, I call out, “It’s all about pleasure, am I right?”
They nod, and cheers go up around the room.
Idiots. On the brink of falling into perdition, and they don’t even know it. I scan the tent and shake my head while wearing a wide smile.
Their actions will determine their fate and the fate of this world for the next thousand years, but they’re too busy fucking to care about the bloody apocalypse. They should be working to redeem their souls and seek deliverance.