Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Emeline
I return, riding Horace at a slow pace as the remaining women of the town follow behind on foot.
It took me a while to find them all and explain.
The looks they gave me when I told them about the heroic jack-o’-lantern demon who saved the town made me feel like a complete crazy person.
The skeletal horse I was riding did help to sell the story.
They’ll just have to meet him and see for themselves.
Fierdon strides toward me. A small crowd of brutalized men follows close behind. He’s freed all those who were imprisoned. All the men who stood up for the falsely accused girls. Every man who refused to fall under the influence of Itrimort. So few are left.
There are many startled and frightened stares as both the men and women take in Fierdon. He is quite a terrifying sight. Massive, dangerous, with glowing eyes and a sinister smile. What must they be thinking?
“He will not harm you,” I announce, keeping my voice gentle and confident. “He saved us all.”
Some of the fear and tension has dissipated by the time we reach Fierdon and the imprisoned men. Their focus shifts to reunions as the women come within arm’s reach.
Cries of joy and sorrow erupt as lovers and families are reunited. Cheers of joy for those who made it out alive. Quiet sobs for those now realizing their husbands, friends, fathers, and brothers are not coming home. So many gone in so few days.
“Where are the dead?” I whisper to Fierdon.
“I dumped them in a pile near the cemetery. Didn’t want the women to have to suffer any more than they already have.”
I run one hand up the front of his chest and let the other slide across his waist. His menacing carved face turns soft and shocked when I grip the top of his cloak and pull him down for a kiss that would have me blushing if I were an outsider looking in. “You’re a good man.”
“Technically, I’m a monster.” He winks at me.
“Thank you,” I murmur against his carved mouth. There are more than a few shocked whispers at our public display of affection. My hands roam him freely as relief washes through me. It’s over.
When I pull back from the kiss, the fire in his eyes is burning green. Fierdon abruptly turns, leaving me standing with heat clawing up my throat.
He mounts Horace, turns my direction, and takes off. The others scream and scatter as his hoofbeats echo across the cobblestone. I’m staring up at him, the question of where he’s going forming on my lips, when he reaches down and snatches me up.
“You can thank me properly once we’re out of sight of these prying eyes.”
Fierdon
I haul her, mid-stride, up into the saddle so she’s facing me.
She squeaks out as the breath rushes from her lungs. The crowd parts easily enough and I urge Horace to move faster. We’ve not even made it to the woods when I slide the first vine inside her.
The luxurious feeling of her pussy is tempered by my inability to see it. Dropping the reins with full trust in Horace, I remove my gloves. These monstrously clawed fingers are ugly as hell but serve me well as I tear Emeline’s clothes from her body.
“People can see!” she gasps, still struggling to catch her breath in the whirlwind of movement and excitement.
Fabric floats behind us, leaving a trail from the last town home and into the edge of the forest. I push the vine deep enough to make her eyes roll back.
Horace is galloping now, his gait hard and fast. Every time his hooves slam into the earth, my vine thrusts deeper.
Vine-fucking Emeline on horseback is painfully sexy.
She’s naked, but this close proximity on saddleback is still impeding my view. Another vine shoots around her ankle, lifting it up and securing it to my shoulder.
Frantic fingers clutch my neck as she teeters off-balance.
“Yes.” I groan, finally able to watch my vine as it’s sucked in again and again by her sweet, tight cunt. Saliva drips from my mouth and rains down over Emeline’s lower stomach, drenching her blond curls. My vines slide in and out more easily with the added lubrication.
I need more.
New growth slithers farther back and teases between her cheeks.
Emeline wiggles her hips, her fingers loosening on my neck for a moment. She wants to reach down and pull that vine away, I can sense it. But that’s not going to happen.
“Give into me, Emeline,” I growl out. I want every part, every moment, every gasp, groan, moan, every sloppy, cunt-clenching moment. I want to make her scream and shake from tongue to taint and everywhere in between.
“Fier!” The word croaks out of her as I slip a slender vine between her cheeks. The jarring cant of Horace’s hooves has both vines fucking into her with hard, steady strokes as she’s bounced up and down.
Emeline grinds her hips, her fingers digging into my neck.
I grow a smaller vine, dotting it with soft oval-shaped leaves.
The first brush against her clit has her hips jerking forward.
I press them down and continue flicking in a rapid motion that strokes her clit from base to tip with inhuman speed.
Her breathing turns quick, moans shortening into whimpers. I want to kiss her as she comes but the rough rhythm that’s allowing me to fuck her so easily is preventing me from easily connecting with her mouth. I settle for my tongue around her throat.
Her pulse throbs beneath my tongue as I collar her, lost in the rhapsody of her pleasure. I increase my hold as she comes, cutting off her air and reveling in the tightening of her holes around my vines.
This beautiful woman making a mess on my saddle has bewitched me so fully I can hardly focus. Horace knows the way. He slows just before we reach the border into the haunted section of the western woods.
I dismount before he’s fully stopped, dragging Emeline with me, my vines still milking the last of her orgasm free.
Emeline is unaware of Leed’s presence. He’s strung up, bound to a branch that has him positioned so he’s staring down at us. I have enough vines wrapped around his mouth to ensure he cannot speak. But he can hear and see everything I’m about to do to Emeline.
The vines retract slightly, keeping him hidden in the shadows. I’ll not have my nightingale getting distracted by her ex.
She clings to me, sweaty and quivering as I drop to the ground and free my monstrous gourd cock.
My vines empty her, moving instead to spread her legs, pushing them back until her knees are pressed against her shoulders.
I need her wide enough to split open to be able to accommodate me.
It’s a good thing my nightingale is flexible.
The heat of need blinding me right now has removed all worry of breaking her mortal bones.
She’s already wet, but I have foresight enough to spit on her until my hot saliva is pooled in her parted entrance.
Seeds squirt from my tip as my cock pulses, veins writhing along my shaft. “I need this.”
I rut into her. Not a thrust, not a steady sinking. A rut. I rut into her like a fucking animal. That’s what she’s reduced me to. A mindless fucking animal who’s slamming my cock into her like she’s a piece of prey caught in a beast’s snare.
I’m barely aware of the world around me. My thoughts of Leed and what he must be thinking as he watches me fuck his fiancée into oblivion dull. Green fire brightens, flames shooting from my eyes until I cannot see, cannot think.
All I can do is feel. Feel the way her walls are throbbing as she grips my misshapen shaft. Feel the tightening of her ass as one of my fingers plunges inside. Feel the rough gagging of her throat as a vine snakes deeper inside…
That particular sensation drags me back from the edge of my feral insanity. Her eyes are wide with panic as my vision clears. I quickly slide the vine free from her throat.
She sucks in a breath. “What the hell—”
I stretch my tongue to her clit by way of an apology.
She’s so open for me, so raw. There must be some dark magic in my spit or precum to allow me to fit inside her without ripping her clean in half.
Staring down at where our bodies connect is absurd.
The deep green of my cock fills every inch between her fair thighs.
Deeper, deeper. There is definitely magic involved in our fucking. Her pussy is far too open, too full.
When her climax hits and she contracts around me, it rings through my nerve endings like devil’s fire.
My new cock is so sensitive, so slippery, smooth, slimy even.
I steal a glance at Leed above. He looks every bit as horrified as I hoped he would.
My precum spills out of Emeline, the viscous liquid continuing to help her accommodate my size.
It’s nothing like the precum that used to bead my tip as a man.
I have a feeling my cum will be something altogether unnatural when I finish.
The thought has barely formed when it happens.
I come so hard I swear I see the demon realm itself. My palm slams over Emeline’s eyes. She doesn’t question it. She’s too lost in her own pleasure.
As I finish, I loosen the vines on Leed.
He drops, flailing in his bindings. Thank the devil I left my sword within reach.
One firm swipe. My blade cuts cleanly through Leed’s neck.
I have to swat his head aside to prevent it from landing on Emeline.
The sensation of killing and coming in the same moment somehow extends my orgasm.
I come so long and hard I start to think it might be some wicked dream.
The blood raining down over us reassures me that this is really happening.
My palm remains over her eyes as my sword hand smears blood over her breasts, mindless in the heat of my release.
My hips pump, relentless as I fill my nightingale so full that it gushes out from around my shaft and drenches the ground.
Emeline sings the sweetest sounds of ecstasy as she finds her release again, completely unaware that my cock is pushing more of her ex-fiancé’s blood into her over stuffed cunt with every thrust. So much blood. So much cum. So fucking satisfying.
My voice is shredded with need. “That’s it. Sing for me, nightingale.”
One last moan, a final shudder of her lush, pliant body. Then she relaxes, muscles going soft as her orgasm subsides. I thrust into her for several moments more, unable to part with her pussy even after I’ve finished.
I’m quick to snatch up Leed’s headless body and severed head, commanding my vines to drag them both out of sight. No need to traumatize my nightingale. Like the others, she’s seen enough horrors.
His death may have caused her pain and suffering. This way, it’s our secret, Leed and I. Though he won’t be telling anyone.
I’ll be fantasizing about the moment of his death for years to come.
My balls tighten, remembering the way his eyes widened in those last moments.
My sweet Emeline may accept my monstrous form, but my more villainous tendencies will be kept hidden for now.
With Itrimort gone and his influence wiped clean, I’ll have no reason to enact such vengeance again.
When I slide my oversized girth free, an unusual sight awaits me. Mixed in with my sticky, thick spend are pumpkin seeds.
“Oh my god…fucking hell.”
Emeline laughs, causing her stomach to contract. Seeds squirt from her sated pussy. I have the urge to shove every bit of my spend back inside her. Schooling that lascivious desire, I choose another, equally satisfying route.
Using my tongue, I push between her sensitive thighs and scoop every bit of seed and spend free, lapping up the taste of our demonic debauchery.
Emeline whimpers and moans as her tender, sore flesh is stroked and soothed.
When I’m finished, an impressively large pile of my cum sits in a mound between her thighs.
She props herself on her elbows. “You come pumpkin seeds?”
“You made me out of pumpkin seeds.”
Her mouth drops in horror. “Still, that feels…very unnatural.”
“Unnatural, maybe. I filled you with pumpkin seeds, but don’t worry…” I proffer a long swipe to her clit as I move to my knees. Her body tightens. “…I licked them all out.”
The guttural sound she makes has me wanting to spend every second of the day and night between her thighs, filling her up with my cock and emptying her with my mouth.
My grin is wolfish. “It’s just too easy to make you come for me, nightingale.”
“How the hell did that fit?” Emeline is staring at my still-engorged cock.
“I believe I excreted some sort of magic that kept you from being torn in two.”
“Are you saying you have magic pumpkin cum?” She cocks a brow at me then shakes her head. “I guess it’s not the most strange or depraved thing to happen in the past few days.”
“It won’t be the most depraved thing to happen in the future days, either.” Wickedness laces my tone as my vines brush along every curve of her body.
She shudders beneath their touch. Her eyes remain on my shaft. “Was it as good as when you had an invisible body?”
“Far superior.” The answer is instantaneous. “So much so, in fact”—I crawl over her, caging her body to the forest floor—“that I think I need to experience it again.”