Chapter Three
Tyllie
Why does this feel so wrong? I keep smiling, keeping fighting through, but something inside me is ringing, vibrating with disgust. Why can’t I just enjoy myself?
A low growl warms my ear and drips down my neck, and I know without looking who is behind me. It’s the same daemon who’s been following me for the last few days. The same one who asked to pay for my body.
Despite the war going on inside my head, my body has no problem leaning into him, my hands falling from Brad’s neck.
Brad looks hurt for a moment, confused as to why we can’t continue with a regular hookup, but when he meets my gaze he smiles and turns away to find some other conquest.
“What are you doing?” he whispers just loud enough to hear.
“Er . . . existing. Didn’t realize I needed permission.
” Seriously, why does this guy set my cock on fire and make me feel like I’m the center of the universe?
And why do I love the possessiveness? The ownership?
There’s something wrong with me. Some kind of daddy issue I should probably work through in therapy.
Right now I want to find out how far I can take this before he snaps.
I’ll take payment. In orgasms.
My lust-addled brain seems to have forgotten the insult and the hurt. My dick, too.
The only response Professor Brax seems able to give is a growl so deep I feel it in my toes.
I tube around and face him, eye to eye. I almost stumble, my knees weak from the alcohol (or so I tell myself). “I don’t belong to you.”
Each word a punch he flinches from. His eyes darken. The juts of black bone that adorn his daemon skin are just visible beneath the carefully adorned mask. “You will.” He picks me up, throws me over his shoulder, and storms out of the house in full view of the entire party.
Is he insane? Everyone will notice!
Around a corner and down a dark alley, he finally puts me on my feet, then shoves me against the nearest wall. “Stop pushing me.”
“Or what?” I ask, leaning into him.
His eyes darken to a black that takes over his entire iris as his mask slips. His horns burst out, his skin darkens to maroon, and black bits of bone pepper his forehead and cheekbones.
“You’ll take me back to your lair and use my ‘services’?” I meet his gaze, unafraid. Horny but determined.
He flinches. His gaze softens. “I . . . I am sorry. I merely meant I want you to get something out of our exchanges: contentment, orgasms, affection . . . dinner?”
A small giggle bursts out of my mouth. “Are you trying to ask me out?” At his nod, I take a deep breath and avoid his gaze.
“If you must know, I rather enjoy sex, giving, receiving, quickies, long weekends with repeat orgasms. Sure, dinner’s nice.
I never say no to flowers.” My hand grazes down his jacket and undoes the button.
“But right now, dinner isn’t what I want. ”
He leans in and places a soft kiss on my neck. “What do you want?”
I lean my head sideward, giving him more room to scrape those fangs along bare skin. “Your cock up my ass and your fingers wrapped tight around my cock.”
An elicit moan escapes him as grinds a hard bulge into me. “I’m supposed to treat you well. To court you.”
“And if you promise to keep me freshly fucked until graduation, I’ll let you.” The timeline slipped out unbidden. Do I really want him to stick around in my life that long? Usually I prefer them gone by morning.
He pulls back and tucks a finger beneath my chin, lifting it to connect our gazes. “Forget graduation. I’ll keep you freshly fucked until the day the heavens take you. I’ll show you what orgasms can be when you let your daemon mate take control of your perfect little body.”
His words stir something in a part of me I don’t have a name for, somewhere deep and unyielding. Somewhere that needs more than cock and caffeine to be satisfied with life. “Deal.” I rest a hand on his cheek. “Do you want me to help take care of that?” I eye his hardening problem with a smirk.
He laughs, clearly satisfied with the arrangement, but shakes his head. “Yes, but not here. My mate deserves more than an alleyway.”
Mate? I noticed it earlier but thought it was a cute term of endearment. Let’s not ruin the moment by asking now.
He digs into his pocket and pulls out a compact mirror. “Hold on.”
I grab hold of his arms with a tight grip, and he flips open the mirror. A terrible, familiar spinning sensation overwhelms me, and I try to concentrate on not puking. As quickly as it started, however, it stops.
We’re in a different room than the library I popped into last time; one with a bed draped in heavy curtains and a dimly lit bureau adorning the wall to the left. Tapestries, rugs, and a cosy fireplace warm the room.
“This is your bedroom?” Though the question wasn’t needed because he drapes his jacket over the hat stand by the door and begins popping open the buttons on his shirt. “I imagined something a little more opulent.”
“Sorry it doesn’t meet your expectations, little human.”
“No, no. It’s really lovely, actually.” An image of curling up in his arms under the many blankets next to a roaring fire while being fed warm food pops to mind, but I shake it free. “Super cos—”
My feet leave the floor in almost the same instant that my back meets the mattress.
He hovers over me, his knees between my open legs. “Good God, stop talking.” His breath is hot on my lips, his face inches from mine. “If you need to stop, just say—”
“Pizza!” I’ve always wanted to have sex where I can use a safe word. “It’s random, not going to be used in the middle of anything, and—”
His hand covers my mouth, then he replaces it with a plaited silk rope he ties behind my head. “Pizza is fine. Just raise three fingers if you want to stop and can’t talk.”
I nod.
“Good.” He leans back and stands up, looking me over like I’m a prize on display. First he removes my corset, deft fingers working a complex system, then unzips the skirt and lifts the top up over my head.
Before I know it, I’m naked in front of him, the only items of clothing left being the pink thong and the hold-ups he leaves on.
“Gods, you’re . . .”
The growl that leaves his lips vibrates off the walls straight down to my balls. Could this get any hotter? I’ve dreamed of this moment since our last night together, how he’ll fill me up and bring me breakfast the next day. A dirty gentleman.
He rumbles around in a chest hidden in the shadows I didn’t see before and comes back with meters upon meters of brown rope.
My dick hardens at the sight. He’s going to tie me up and fuck me into the mattress, isn’t he? Good God, it’s going to be good. So good. I can’t wait.
He yanks me up the bed by both wrists and ties each one to a bedpost, the rope chafing into my skin slightly but not enough to cause damage. I tug on then but can’t move.
I’m stuck in my daemon professor’s bed.
“Now you can’t go anywhere, can’t fuck anyone else, can’t be anything but mine.” There’s an edge to his voice I don’t recognize, a dark tint that echoes in that desperate part of me that wants to be owned by this daemon. “You can scream as loud as you like; no one will come to your rescue.”
Unlike last time, when I had to be quiet (and failed).
My cock weeps, precum pooling in my lace underwear that can’t contain my junk anymore.
As if just now noticing, he looks down and licks his lips. “You always wear thongs?”
I nod. Yes.
“So all those lectures you sat in the front row, your lust distracting my every word, you were hard beneath a lacy thong every time?”
I nod. Yes. Every goddamn time.
He balls his fingers into fists as his eyes stay glued to my balls.
I want him to touch them, to suck them into his mouth like last time and make me come.
But he doesn’t. Instead he strips his own shirt with slow precision, like he has all the time in the world now I’m tied up for him.
My eyes trace the hairless chest covered in scars, the nipples hardened to a point, and the lean stomach leading to a belt-buckled pair of pants I desperately want to see removed.
His fingers unclasp the belt in a quick audible click without his eyes ever leaving my body. “That guy you were going to fuck? He a regular hookup?”
I consider lying, but I don’t.
The snarl that leaves his lips edges on cruel. “So not a boyfriend or a romantic interest?”
I shake my head. No.
“Good. That’ll be the last time you see him. You’re mine now.” His eyes trail up my body and meet my widened gaze. “Understand?”
I nod. I want to say he’s being ridiculous, that I’m man enough to tell him to fuck off, but I’m not. I want to be his. I want to be his good little human for as long as he’ll have me. I want to live out the fantasy inside my head. I’ll be owned by my daemon if I get the chance.
He whips the belt off and unzips his pants, letting them fall to the floor. His eyes on my leaking cock the entire time.
That’s when I realize he’s not wearing any underwear. His dick springs free in a shocking display of hardness no human man could muster. Well, none that I’ve ever seen. In place of a nice hard cock is a thick rod with three bulges, one at the base, one in the middle, and one in place of a head.
My eyes must give me away, because he says, “You’ll take all of them and enjoy it, little human. I’ll make sure of it.”
I watch as he takes his hand up and down himself, making the bulges even bigger.
Fuck, I want it. I’ve never been shy. I’ve always known that I’ll take as much pleasure from sex as my partner is willing to give, ever since I blew my first load while jacking off to the quarterback beneath the bleachers.
“Like what you see?” he asks, a hint of uncertainty in his dominant voice.
I nod. Because fuck yeah. I’m never leaving this bed again. Who needs a life when you have cock like that?
He continues to stroke himself lazily, slowly, with no intention of coming anywhere near me, it would seem.