Chapter Eleven
Birdie
W e clash together like swords in battle. Our mouths bite more than kiss, exploring in a hungry crash. Everything with us is a fight. Why should this be any different?
The thought, oddly, makes me want to laugh, some frantic joy trying to bubble out as he grabs my face with both hands and sucks on my bottom lip. The way he does that, then tilts to stick his tongue down my throat, reminds me of some slavering beast who hasn’t eaten in years.
I’m enveloped in his solid heat, completely surrounded. My fingernails latch onto his forearms and scrape down. He groans as he dominates my mouth. I haven’t kissed many demons, but wow, his mouth is hot. His tongue is longer, thicker even, than I’m used to. And God, his hands are big. Our size difference has never been more apparent.
Fuck me.
What an unexpected solution.
The kiss grows deeper, more frantic. I have only the haziest memory of our first kiss all those years ago. It was so innocent compared to this, the first time I threw caution to the wind. He was moving away, and I had nothing to lose.
It’s the same now. Rex doesn’t live here. He’s leaving, just like before. No one needs to know. What’s one more impulsive moment?
But I’m not a teenager anymore. I need more.
I refocus on his waistband, rip open his belt, and shuttle down the zipper, sliding my hand over the bulge covered by briefs.
“Fuck.” His breath gusts out. I’ve always secretly liked how much he curses, how free he is with words. With everything. Not that I’d admit it to him. And now, as his lips travel across my cheek to my ear, he exhales out the curse again when I cup his balls and trail my fingers up. “Fuck, Birdie. What’re you doing to me?”
To him? He’s the force of nature. He’s the demon who says and does whatever he wants. The guy who always says fuck the rules . I need that energy right now.
He grabs my face again, bringing my attention back to his shining black eyes. A single, wild flame dances at the center of his pupils.
“What do you want, honey?”
My breath hitches, a surge of surprising emotion crashing over me. It’s such a simple question—what do I want?—one I rarely consider, not when I planned that rushed wedding, not when I agreed to build those stupid cabins, and not when I smile and nod to whatever everyone else wants all the fucking time .
“I want to feel.” The truth comes out before I know what I’m saying, and it scares me a little.
His jaw clenches and a hard look passes over his face, then I’m in the air and placed on the cool granite countertop. We’re eye to eye, and he still surrounds me, caging me in with his giant arms.
“You weren’t taken care of, were you?” His voice is dark gravel, and before I can even answer, he shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you are now. I’ll do it.”
His rough hands slide over my silk slip. The calluses catch in the fabric, so he tucks them under and urges my legs open. His gaze snares on my chest, the attention making my nipples tighten in the tiny, tight bustier I didn’t remember until just now is totally see-through.
“I could eat you right up.” One of his palms glides up the inside of my thigh while the other yanks down my top with barely concealed violence, ripping the delicate seams in the low V. “But I need to suck these titties first.”
The urge to laugh again emerges then turns to a gasp as his overheated mouth makes contact with a wet noise. I buck as he latches onto one nipple then darts to the other, using his thumb to stimulate where his mouth isn’t. One hand grips the base of his thick horn while the fingers of the other end up tangled in his hair, instinctively holding him to me.
He groans then pops off. His hair is a mess and he’s grinning like I’ve never seen before as he catches his breath. His thumb notches under my chin to make my lips available for plunder again, a bite and a suck between heavy exhales. God, the sounds he makes are unhinged. He hunches back down to latch back onto one breast, then the other.
It makes me crazy. He’s always made me so crazy I can barely think around him.
“So quiet, honey.”
Am I being quiet? Because he won’t shut up.
“Nothing mean to say? Now that I’m sucking your nipples in the clothes you almost married some other asshole in.”
I exhale in surprise and yank his head back. “You’re evil.”
“There she is.” He chuckles and shakes me off, traveling back up my chest to suck at my neck.
He likes it when I’m a little mean, and I’m just now realizing how much fun it is to tease him back.
“You smell.” I bite at his ear, tasting the salt of his skin.
“You like it, though, don’t you?” He takes a deep inhale while licking his lips. I remember that demons can sense arousal along with other heightened emotions—something between a scent and a taste. “And for the record you smell too.”
“Evil,” I gasp.
“You smell, but good. Real tasty. Pretty Birdie sweat.” His nose trails up my throat as he licks my skin to follow the path. Under my slip, his fingers move from squeezing my thigh to pressing over the gusset of my panties, firmly, mapping the flesh underneath. “Can’t wait to lick you everywhere. I bet there’s nothing sweeter.”
I lean my cheek against his horn and hide my smile. He’s so brash, but somehow it’s working. Everything about him works for me right now. Maybe I needed to match his natural chaos to see him in a new light, where everything about him makes sense. He’s honest. He’s funny. And the chemistry is explosive.
“I wanna feel something too.” His fingers slide under the fabric and through my arousal. Without preamble, he sinks one thick digit inside.
“Look at that,” he says and slides a second alongside, made far too easy by how wet I am. I wait for him to tease me. When we make eye contact though, it’s just puppy dog eyes full of awe. “You are perfect, aren’t you?” His fingers move in and out, press up. “So perfect. A smart girl with good grades. A pretty lady with polite words. But now . . .” He grips my neck with his free hand, holding me still, like he won’t let me look away. “Now I see a new side of you.” I’m breathless, waiting on every word. “A needy little slut.”
I suck in a breath, jaw dropping. My arousal ramps up, and I hate how hot it makes me, how sure I am he’s eating up every reaction.
His tongue flicks out to taste the air again, and an evil half smirk returns.
“Desperate for me, aren’t you?”
“Pig.” I smack his shoulder and try to wiggle free which just makes his smile widen, grip tighten, and fingers sink deeper. His thumb passes over my clit and I jolt. Determined to make him feel something, I pull his hair. And now he’s grinning. I want to demand he take it back, shut up , but I can’t. I won’t.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” He licks my lips now, tongue traveling across my cheek. It’s obscene and absolutely should be gross but it’s really, really not.
I growl at him and wrench his face back to bite his bottom lip. Suck it. Dig my nails into his cheeks. That’ll shut him up. Stupid, sexy demon giant.
“You’re my hot little slut.” He speaks against my mouth and crooks his fingers inside me. His thumb circles my clit with heavy pressure. Everything clenches tight. “My perfect girl.”
The meanness and praise mixed makes me crazy. I’d scream if I could, but I’m frozen in bliss, incapable of saying anything, only feeling. Trembling and pulsing. Desperate for more as he works me over with those thick, talented fingers.
“Can’t admit it, can you? That you need me that bad.” He chuckles at my ear, barely a whisper. Not that anyone else can hear us, but it still feels too secret what he’s found out. The truth of what I am and what I want. “That’s okay, honey. I’ll give it to you anyhow.”
In a move that really should take more effort, his grip moves under me. I’m hoisted up and pressed against the fridge. My legs lock around his waist. We’re chest to chest, plastered together.
And while I’m a sweaty, nearly naked mess, he’s still in all his clothes, feet widening for a stable stance.
My hand slides down his unzipped fly and under the waistband to finally feel his bare cock. It’s thick and hot to the touch. Glancing down, the skin glows! Some inner light pulsing and morphs slightly with his heartbeat. Demonkind exhibit a large variety of traits–not just the horns but tails, wings, claws, and . . . well . . . this.
His cock is almost like a lava lamp. The more I fist and pump, exploring the ridges and folds of skin, the brighter neon-red and harder he grows.
I want to feel him inside me. Closer.
Using my legs, I wiggle and work to push his pants further down. He positions himself in the crook of my hips, bare with only the scrap of my thong between us.
The ambient light of his skin casts a red glow between us.
“You ready?” he asks.
So ready. I can’t wait another second to fall deeper, grow wilder, be different.
“Fuck me,” I say. It’s what he wanted. This was his idea. But it’s my turn to demand. “Do it.”
He tugs my panties to the side, and then he’s there, luminescent angry-red cock sliding up and through my folds. The sound is crude and wet. He’s hard and hot and silky soft at the same time. Skin on skin. I sigh, my eyes going half-mast as the heated sensation of his perfect, glowing cock sends a rush of warmth through me. My arousal makes the way I rock on him an easy thing.
“You feel that?” He bites my upper lip and nips my nose before placing chaste little kisses over my cheek.
I nod and rotate my hips, trying to catch the tip, desperately chasing his mouth but he never gives in.
“So hungry, honey.” A sliver of smoke gusts from his nose, like a bull enraged. “Feel more of me, then.”
He notches at my entrance. I arch. He presses. Every inch gained is slow and sure. He glides in a fraction then back out, making determined progress with each thrust in, his big muscles flexing and tight.
We exhale together, our breaths sawing in to match. And even though I can’t see where we’re joined now, I can hear it—the fluid sounds, a groan, my panties ripping, lost to the floor. I get greedy and bite his lip, wanting his mouth on mine again, the full-body experience. Feel it all—taste and hear and touch and see.
His horns frame the light from the window with only the bright fire of his eyes glowing in the shadows. He’s a demon god, entirely focused on my devastation, dragging me deeper into darkness. I should be frightened but I’m not. He makes me feel dangerous instead.
A wild creature like him.
Free.
I tip my hips as he shifts slightly, roots deeper. There’s so much pressure and pleasure, I can’t speak. My hands shake, frantically clawing over his chest then scraping up the dark tattoos of his neck. I anchor my grip behind his neck and hold on for dear life as he shuttles me up and down, faster now. We’re on a slippery slope driving straight off a cliff. I hug tighter, hiding my face at his neck, watching his pulse beat rapidly, feeling the steam coming off his skin as he overheats.
He jolts deep inside me and slows, voice shaky. “I’m—fuck—I’m too close.”
I take up the motion, almost there myself. With the added friction of his hairy belly on my clit as I move, the edge is coming.
“Me too. Keep going. Fuck me, Rex. Never stop.”
Oh. Those last two words light a new fire inside him. A feral growl rumbles out as he smashes me further against the fridge and ruts me with abandon. My breaths shudder as I come in a full-body rush of sensation. And he keeps going. Every smack of his hips extend my aftershocks, like my body needs to squeeze the cum out of him.
With a trembling quick movement, he turns, dashing dishes off the counter to set me back down. He pulls out, aims his bright orange-red cock at me, and unloads all over my bare pussy.
Seeing a giant demon shake and whimper with his glowing, pulsing cock in his hand is almost as much fun as feeling it inside me. I’m grinning as he finishes coming down. Still breathing hard, he softly nudges just the tip through the mess, up and down my entrance and over my clit until I’m so ticklish or so far outside my head, I finally let go.
I start laughing.
He glances up, surprised, and in a blink, joins me in a fit of laughter as he leans one hand against the counter to catch his breath.
I close my legs around his hips. He squeezes my thigh then moves to grab a paper towel, wetting it with warm water, before cleaning me up as best he can.
“Sorry about the clothes.” His gaze stays busy anywhere but my face.
I think about the torn, discarded clothing around the kitchen. The off-the-rack dress, the itchy underclothes, the tissue-paper veil. None of it I really wanted.
“All things considered, it was the best thing that could’ve happened to them.”
He glances up with a little smile. “Yeah?”
“Fuck that dress.”
He nods, shoulders relaxing. It’s like an unspoken we’re good about what just went down. All his teasing cockiness from earlier is gone. Rex and I aren’t exactly close friends, able to talk through our feelings. Not that I talk through my feelings with anyone, but I get the sense he was worried I’d completely freak out on him.
I jump off the counter and pull an apron over my front for respectability’s sake. I’m not embarrassed at all, weirdly. Should I be? If anything, I feel good . Dirty and disheveled, for sure. Tired, yeah, but in a relaxed way. It’s like my body and mind needed a hard reset after the wedding this morning. The almost wedding. Ugh. I push it from my mind.
Nope. Not going there. One crisis at a time.
Rex’s hand trails down his face as he watches me carefully. The way his fingers frame then drag down his mouth reminds me how he’d do that to fiddle with his old mustache. The mustache that was hiding some seriously plush and sexy lips that will now haunt my wet dreams. I almost wish he still had it, not that it matters.
“You’ll need a drive back into town, huh? What time are you leaving today? Is that why you shaved?” I snicker. “I bet your mom hates it. And what is this blinking thing on your horn? If it’s decorative, it’s kind of an eyesore.”
“Damn, twenty questions already.” He scratches the side of his nose nervously then leans both arms straight on the counter. “First of all, my mom likes my mustache just fine. I think. She’s never commented on it, anyhow. And . . .” He pauses and drums his fingers, gazes darting away. “Well this horn clamp and my lack of facial hair is courtesy of some poor decisions last night. They’re kind of the reason I’ll be staying in town a little longer.”
Huh? He shaved his mustache and bought weird electronic horn jewelry which means he can’t leave town. How does that make sense?
He has to leave, just like before. This was a freak occurrence, a one-time thing before we’re both on our separate ways to nice, normal lives.
“Earth to Birdie.” He snaps his fingers in front of my face. I swat them away.
“Ugh. Stop. You’re not . . .” My voice cracks. “You’re not leaving town?”
His features show his annoyance. “Don’t be so heartbroken about it, honey. Yes, your wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am is sticking around. I got into a bit of mischief last night which landed me twelve weeks of probation and some shit I’ve got to sort out.”
“Th-that’s almost three months.”
“Up through the holidays, yep.” The p-sound pops.
“And you’re staying with my mom?” I feel breathless. The mortification if she found out what I did today is huge. On my wedding day. With Rex, her long-term guest.
“Uh, no. I checked out. Actually, I . . .” His voice trails off.
I exhale the biggest sigh of relief.
When Rex is quiet for too long, I notice he’s looking around my home like he’s inspecting it, more curious than he should be. He turns to me with a dazzling smile.
“Funny coin-ky-dink, Birdie Lynn. I actually need a place to bunk up for a while.”
“No.” The harsh word is immediate. Absolutely not.
“My probation involves me volunteering somewhere. I just need to find a local willing to vouch for me.” He pulls out a paper and a metal bracelet from his pocket and sets it on the counter. “There’s some legal shit to agree to but it seems like a pretty sweet deal for the person in question. Three months of free labor from yours truly.”
No , I want to say, but I hold my tongue.
After listening to me rant about how Randy left me high and dry and I’m running out of money to finish the cabins, I think Rex knows why. A volunteer means free labor, something uniquely shameful to demons, not that he seems to mind. Rex is insanely skilled at building things if our time in shop class and the little I know about the work he does for Perkatory means anything.
“Seems to me you could use some help around here,” he adds.
He’s not wrong. The ranch would definitely qualify, considering all the animals I care for on the nonprofit side.
“By the silent treatment, I take it you’re thinking about it.” He grabs a bag of my favorite snack—chili jerky—and shovels some into his mouth as he eyes the living room. “Got a guest bedroom back there?”
“No.” I snatch the bag from him and throw it further down the counter. Rex in my home? After what just went down. After the way we fight. “No way.”
“No to the guest room or the whole idea of using a strapping demon with animal know-how and construction expertise for free labor through the holidays?” He grabs a breakfast bar from the container. I allow it. “That is your busy season, isn’t it?”
It’s easy to forget he’s a demon with his casual nonchalance and blue-collar sensibilities, but I think he’s just more clever about it. Rex may not be a wheeler-dealer in boardrooms, but I see the instinct flare to life, the anticipation at finding an opportunity he can twist to his advantage. How much of our kitchen romp, the way he licked his lips and devoured me, was only taking advantage of a vulnerable woman in—
“No.” I shake my head. That crazy choice went both ways. We enjoyed ourselves. Thoroughly. I pause, recalling the procedures of demonic negotiation like the back of my hand. Even if I do see the plus side of having a free ranch hand during the busiest time of the year, I have to stay firm with him if I’m going to seriously consider the idea. He needs to understand my first requirement. “You can’t stay in the house.”
“My probation says I can’t drive, and I’m damn sure not walking eight miles round trip from here to town. Don’t have the money for lodging anymore anyway.” One big muscly arm sweeps across the room. “Thus, I have to stay here. You get to boss me around. I’ll do whatever you want. Ride me rough if you need to.” His eyes flare at that. “But my one and only condition is that I live here.”
“It’s a one bedroom.”
“One bed, huh? Sounds cozy.” When I don’t snipe back at that, he sighs. “I get that you find me hideous and would never in a thousand jillion years fuck me. Oh, wait.” He smacks his forehead and laughs. “That’s not true at all. You can’t resist me, can you?”
I growl. He grins.
It’s not customary to show vulnerability in a negotiation, but boundaries are important.
“I need space.”
I’m standing here in tattered underwear and a dirty apron with my life falling apart. He has to see this as a reasonable boundary. His eyes tighten as he inspects me, calculating his next move.
“Where will I stay then?”
An open question instead of the traditional counteroffer. It’s a calculated step in the direction of what he wants. By assuming I’ve accepted his help, he’s giving me a carrot and letting me make the next move.
He insists on staying here, but I can’t have him in my home.
“The barn.”
He laughs. “With the animals. That’s how it is?”
“The barn is the only option.” I shrug. “There’s a fully functional bathroom and I could find a way to make you comfortable.”
“I’m sure you could.” He watches me with open hunger that gives me pause.
Another boundary he needs to be aware of.
“It can’t happen again.” I say, needing to be sure he knows this was a one-and-done fit of passion. But worry creeps up, because Rex has never been good at following rules. “You know what? Maybe we shouldn’t even—”
“No. We’re doing this.” His eyes flare.
“If I’m meant to vouch for you in a legal matter, what if someone finds out what just happened? If the judge asks—”
“If, if, if. What would you say?” he cuts me off. “That we rawdogged against your fridge on your wedding day?”
“Rex!” I throw a dish sponge at him, which leaves a wet splat on his boulder-like chest.
“Yeah, no. We're not telling anyone about what’s between you and me. It’s no one else’s business. End of story.” What a demon thing to say. Still, his assurance eases a lot of my anxiety around the topic. He claps his hands then rubs them together. “So before I agree to this proposal, what am I doing, boss? First project. Hit me with it.”
Before he agrees? This was his idea! And boss . Ugh. He’s so annoying. “I guess the cabins. If you can manage it.”
“Oh, I can.” Then he blurts out the most ridiculous thing. “Problem is, you hate those cabins.”
“Pfft. What? How can I hate something that doesn’t exist, that’s supposed to bring in a lot of money?” Even saying that leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Money would be nice, but if I pump the brakes now, I could still keep the ranch afloat with the tree farm. Maybe.
“I think you know they’re more trouble than they’re worth. You’ve been fucking miserable for six months.”
Since I got surprise engaged and talked into this whole nightmare. Why did I ever think that Randy was my best choice? That luxury cabins are what my ranch needs? I hate the rich people my dad always glad handed growing up. It’s at least half the reason I left finance to begin with.
“I do hate those cabins.” God, that feels good to say. “I never wanted them to begin with.”
Rex’s eyes glow as he leans closer. It’s the same look he had when he encouraged me to scream fuck you .
“They were his idea,” I continue. “You know what, yeah, fuck Randy.” But the rational side of me kicks in quick with a heavy sigh. “It doesn’t matter. I still have a big load of wood and supplies in the barn already paid for. And two cement foundations. I mean, maybe I should just finish the job.”
“Sunk cost fallacy,” Rex mutters. How does he— “How big are the slabs?”
“Uh, twenty by twenty.”
“No electric or plumbing yet?”
Stress starts to close up my throat thinking about contractors again. How they were supposed to install utilities but Randy didn’t explain the project well enough and then the slabs were just done and I’ve been sitting on my hands for ages. All I can manage is to shake my head.
“Good.” He cracks his neck.
“Good?”
“Yeah. So you’ve got two sites with four-hundred square feet of nice level space to play with. Need another barn?”
“On a hill that high up? No.”
“What goes good on a hill?”
A big binocular to view the wildlife all around the property. That’s ridiculous though.
“There’s something going on upstairs,” he says. “Spit it out.”
“It’s silly.”
“I like silly things.” He grins.
I roll my eyes. “The only time I really go up there is in the evenings. I ride the horses sometimes around sunset to wear them out.”
“Umbrans love steep elevation.”
“Yeah, exactly. Fun fact: they evolved on volcanic mountains with goat-like hooves.” I smile. “So anyway, you can see the surrounding area for miles. I was thinking . . . binoculars. Really heavy though, like the big metal ones at roadside spots and state parks. I bet it could see all the way across the lake and into at least two nearby wildlife habitats—the owls and the otters. Oh, the fireflies would probably love it too if there were more wildflowers up there.”
“So an observation deck with some fancy equipment.”
I can see it so clearly. An overhang for shade. Lots of seating. Maybe a hiking trail leading up there. Oh, and big educational displays explaining the terrain and the local animals. There’s more ideas already filling my mind, but I’d need to do some research.
“You should see the way your eyes are shining right now.” Rex gives me finger guns. “That's a winner. That’s what you’re doing with the wood pile.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, not you. Me.” He winks.
“What about the other cement pad?”
“Geez, Birdie Lynn. One project at a time. Trying to work me to the bone already.” His eyebrows dance.
I shake my head with a grin.
“You’ll think of something, boss,” he says.
This demon simultaneously makes me want to laugh, scream, and slug him. Even still, there’s a bright feeling inside that tells me this just might work out.
“So you agree?” I ask, getting us back in negotiation territory. “You work for me until your probation is over. I let you live here and vouch for you with the court.”
He gives me a lingering look before standing to his full height, arm outstretched. “I accept.”
I run through the scenario one more time and see no downside. That’s not quite true, but the benefits far outweigh the temporary awkwardness.
“You’re going to be put to work.” I grasp his hand. His thumb brushes over the henna design my moms made—the same shape of his flame tattoos—and the corners of his mouth tip up. That small caress sends a sparkling sensation up my arm. With a steady voice, I try to keep us on track. “I won’t be easy on you.”
“You never are.” He looms over me, moving one step closer to slide his forearm up and along mine, the position of a demon making an ironclad deal. “It’s one of my favorite things about you.”
His eyes blaze black and red with hints of swirling gold. Veins along his temple darken as his magic strengthens, telling me he’s taking our agreement as serious as death.
Vouching for him in court is one thing. Paperwork.
This is a true demon pact. We’re agreeing to spend three months together.
My fingers squeeze around his strong forearm.
“A deal is a deal,” we say together, sealing our fate.