Chapter Twenty-Five
DEVLIN
We barely make it up the stairs without falling.
I can’t stop kissing her again, inhaling the scent of her, touching her, the damnable farting unicorn shirt thwarting my efforts with a row of buttons in the back—who makes these bloody garments?—until she finally breaks away and strips the shirt off over her head, revealing a peach-colored bra with tiny daisies.
As cute as it may be, that needs to go as well—far too much blasted fabric between my mouth and her silky-soft skin.
The moment we reach the apartment, I pick her up and carry her to the bedroom, tossing her onto the bed and stripping off the bra, the leggings, the panties until she’s finally bared to me, my perfect Halloween gift all unwrapped. I tear off my Freudian slip, leaving the good doctor behind as I climb onto the bed and steal another kiss.
“Wait!” she laughs. “My glasses!”
She tries to remove them, but I grab her wrist. “No, mushroom. The glasses stay on.”
“Naked, with glasses? Devlin! I look ridiculous!”
“You look sexy as fuck, and I’m already addicted, and they’re staying on.” I cut off her protests with another kiss, and she twines her fingers into my hair, her body warm beneath me, and fuck I can’t get enough. I’m already out of my mind with desire for this woman in a way I no longer thought was possible—not after so many centuries of meaningless entanglements and utter debauchery.
But Violet… she’s so soft and perfect, every kiss like warm honey, the sugar-sweet scent of her ever-present magic an invitation I’ll follow wherever it leads.
I bite her lower lip, teasing her with the tip of my tongue as I slowly make my way to her jaw, her throat, the collarbone I’ve been dreaming about for far too long. Everything about her is so delectable it’s an effort not to devour her whole, but I force myself to take my time. To enjoy every sweet and sinful moment the little witch is willing to share.
Because when I finally return to Hell, this is the memory I’ll return to again and again for the rest of my immortal life.
I lower my mouth to her breast. A long, languid lick, then I suck her nipple between my teeth, nibbling and teasing, making her gasp for me as I slide a hand between her thighs, fingers brushing over her clit, gliding down through her wetness, then back up, a slow, torturous path that leaves her panting and begging for more.
“You’re so beautiful when you beg,” I whisper. “Do it again. Beg me not to stop.”
“More,” she pants. “I want… more. Please, Devlin. Please don’t stop.”
I slide a finger inside, then another, stroking her as my kisses wander lower, her thighs parting for me, hips arching closer, my tongue flicking against her clit until I’m drunk on the taste of her desire, fucking mad for it, moaning against her hot flesh as my fingers curl in deeper and—
Bzzzz…
Violet stills beneath me, her eyes flying open, cheeks flaming like a sunset.
Bzzzz bzzzz…
“Oh no,” she whispers.
Bzzzzzzzz.
Stifling a dark chuckle, I slowly kiss my way back up to her ear and whisper, “Is that who I think it is?”
“Oh, goddess. No.” She casts an evil glare at the nightstand and groans. “Not the time!”
“Oh, I beg to differ,” I tease. “Now is precisely the time.”
I reach over and open the drawer, rooting around inside until I find the source of the incessant buzz.
“Mr. Wiggles has a mind of his own,” she says. “A dirty one. Just toss him back in and ignore him.”
“I will do nothing of the sort. If you think I’m going to let a haunted sex toy intimidate me into leaving your bed tonight, Violet Pepperdine, you are sorely mistaken. And so is this ghostly thing.” I press the vibrator to her clit and send out a pulse of Hell magic, just so we all understand who’s in charge tonight.
The reaction is immediate—the haunting entity relinquishes its hold, the device wholly under my command. Even more satisfying, I feel her reaction, too. My sweet little mushroom shudders at the contact, her back arching off the bed, fingers curling into the sheets at her sides.
I turn up the speed and tease her with the tip, coaxing another sensual moan from her lips.
“Tell me something, my naughty witch,” I whisper. “Is this what you were fantasizing about the night I walked in on you?” I dip inside, making her gasp. “Fucking yourself like this, pretending it was my cock filling you, my mouth on your skin, granting you this exquisite pleasure?”
“Oh, goddess. That’s… don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
“I have no intention of stopping. But if you refuse to confess your secrets, perhaps I’ll confess mine instead.” I kiss her neck, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Every night when we bid adieu, and you retreat to your bedroom and I to the couch, it’s not the television I watch into the wee hours.”
“It… it isn’t?”
“Oh, I’ve tried. Binged at least two seasons of your witchy show, but not even the Halliwell sisters can distract me from what’s going on in this bed.” I bite her earlobe and drag the vibrator back to her clit, giving it another pulse of magic. “Ever since that night, I can’t help but imagine what’s happening on the other side of your door. Through the gap on the bottom, I watch the light change, your lamp turned off, the candle flames dancing with the shadows. I picture you taking the pins from your hair, each curl springing loose around your face.”
I trace a fingertip across her cheekbone and reach for my favorite curl, wrapping it around my finger.
“I hold my breath,” I whisper, still kissing her, inhaling her scent. “And pretend I can hear the rustle of your sheets as you slip between them. The buzz of your vibrator as you fuck yourself, just like this, dreaming about all the hot, filthy things the Devil would do you if you invited him in.” I glide it in deeper, drag it all the way out, then thrust in once again, angling it just right. “Now I’m right here with you, sharing the very bed I’ve imagined you in night after night, naked and beautiful, and here’s my fantasy…” I lower my mouth to her ear again. Then, in a hoarse whisper, “I want to hear my name on your lips as I fuck you breathless and make you come for me, again and again and again.”
“Devlin…” she breathes, hips rolling, eyes closed, her crimson cheeks bright, so fucking close to the edge. “I’m going to—“
“Not yet, Violet. First, I want another taste.”
My mouth descends on her silken flesh, licking and sucking, fucking her with my tongue while I tease her clit with the device, her thighs trembling, her breathy moans making me so hard it aches, and when she finally rakes her nails across my scalp and cries out my name, I nearly come right there.
I can’t fucking take it anymore. Not for another second. I need to fuck her, hard and deep. Now.
Ditching the vibrator, I fist my cock, capture her last breath with a desperate kiss, and sink deep inside her.
That’s it. All at once, she’s falling over the edge, and fucking hell, the feel of her. The slow, hot slide into all that softness and heat, her body tightening and pulsating around my rock-hard cock, and I break our kiss just in time to hear her cry out my name once more as she comes completely undone.
“Beautiful,” I whisper, because she is—everything about her, sweet with a side of naughty—and when she finally comes back to earth and opens her eyes and reaches up to touch my face, I nearly falter.
It strips me to the core, the closeness of it all. Terrifies and enchants me both, like stepping into the flames to enjoy the view of the fire, oblivious to the danger until you’ve bloody well incinerated yourself.
I claim her with another fiercely possessive kiss, my hands in her hair as she hooks her heels around my back and urges me in deeper, and fuck… I don’t care if this is the final act that burns me to ash. I need this too much to stop now—need her. Wrapping my arms around her, I flip us so she’s on top, wild hair spilling across her shoulders, glasses askew, the dark peaks of her nipples begging to be sucked. I sit up beneath her and take one between my lips, licking and teasing, a gentle bite that has her moaning and rolling her hips, a slow, seductive dance that’s damn near got me seeing stars.
Free of my control, Mr. Wiggles buzzes back to life beside us, but we don’t stop for him. Or for the curious cats meowing and scratching outside the door. And when we roll again and end up on the floor, tangled in the sheets, it only stokes the flames higher.
My sweet, shy witch has lost all inhibition, begging me to fuck her harder, taking what she wants—all the hot, filthy things I’m more than happy to give her, until I feel her tightening around me once more, that tingling heat racing through my balls. She cries out for me again as she rides me harder, faster, and when the next orgasm takes her, she shudders and tosses her head back and laughs that happy, awkward laugh, and that’s it. That’s fucking it. I’m gone.
“Fucking hell, woman,” I growl, gripping her hips and coming inside her in a blissful, white-hot fury that leaves me spent and trembling, no strength left in me to do anything but lie on the bedroom floor, close my eyes, and wait for death to finally claim me.
Still laughing, still panting, Violet curls up by my side on the floor, bare but for the sheets we brought down with us, her cheek warm against my chest, hair a wild mess. I wrap my arms around her and bury my face in the lemon-coconut curls, grateful that death decided to give my immortal bones a pass after all.
“Are you all right, love,” I murmur.
She props her chin on her hands and looks up at me, glasses finally gone, lost in the tumble, and smiles. “I’m actually perfect.”
“No lies detected.” I trail my fingertips up and down her spine, making her shiver. “Call it irony if you will, but in the old days, witches were thought to be the Devil’s consorts.”
Her cheeks flame and she averts her gaze, but not before I catch the light dancing in her eyes. The teasing grin gracing her lips. Draping a thigh across my hips, she says, “Is that what I am? The Devil’s consort?”
“Oh, mushroom. You are so much more than that.”
“Good. ’Cause I’m not ready to give you up just yet.”
Fuck. Me.
I’ve never felt this way before. This sudden, overwhelming need to make her happy—not just in the bedroom, but everywhere. To keep her safe. To promise her the world and do my damndest to deliver it on a silver fucking platter.
To not saw off my own arm to escape.
What is this madness?
“Gigi—my grandma?” she says softly. “She knew you were coming. She tried to warn me, but I didn’t want to listen.”
She tells me about her grandmother’s magical Tarot cards, the often unexpected messages from across the veil.
“Anyway,” she continues, “your card kept showing up—The Devil. For two days straight, I couldn’t get away from it. I tried to make it disappear, chase it away, set it on fire, and yet… you were relentless.”
“I’ve been called worse.” I laugh. “Did you really think you could destroy a magical Tarot card? The Devil, besides?”
“It was more like a symbolic gesture.”
“Symbolizing what? Your desire to murder me?”
“No. I was trying to convince myself that I had even a shred of control over my life.”
“Control is an illusion pedaled by a capitalist society that does everything in its power to convince you you’re losing it, just so it can sell you something to convince you you’ll get it back.”
“Is that why you don’t bother with it?”
“Capitalism?”
“Control.” She reaches behind my head and retrieves her glasses. Pops them back on, her eyes searching my face. “Everything you do is so… I don’t know. Spontaneous. Inspired. I wish I could be more like that.”
“No, you don’t.” I offer a sad smile, then shake my head. “Spontaneous or not, none of us has any control. Just influence. However, if you’re saying you’re ready for your own pitchfork tattoo, I’ll happily and spontaneously make the arrangements.” I grab her backside, sending her into a fit of giggles that doesn’t settle until I roll on top of her and pin her down, already hard as fuck for her again.
She opens for me at once, and I sink deep inside her and kiss her breathless, grateful that of all the witches who could’ve summoned and bound me, I ended up in the arms of this one.
Later, when the impending sunrise has turned the sky pink and we’re both showered, re-hydrated, and happily exhausted, we collapse into her bed, her back against my chest, my face buried in the crook of her neck, the cats finally allowed back inside, everything about the moment fucking perfect.
I’m just drifting off to sleep when I feel her turn over in my arms.
“What is it, love?” I whisper, opening my eyes to find her watching me intently.
“I’m not sorry I summoned you, Devlin.”
“No?”
“I mean—I’m sorry I magically kidnapped you against your will, and I’m sorry for all the inconvenience it’s caused you. But all that aside… I’m really glad our paths crossed. For all that I tried to ignore Gigi’s signs, I just… I don’t know. I can’t imagine going my whole life without ever getting an opportunity to know you. That’s all.”
She smiles again, brighter than the dawn, and I run my thumb across the lower curve of her mouth and sigh. After all the flirting, all the kissing, all the incredibly hot sex, it’s this moment, this simple confession that strikes at the heart of me. That makes me wish, for just another fleeting moment, that it really could go on forever.
“Devlin?” she whispers, dazed and drowsy, nodding off. “Do you really think I’ve got a chance? With the grant, I mean? Even with Brandt calling the shots?”
“I think, mushroom…” I steal one more kiss, slow and soft and perfect, then cup her face. “You and your many, many spreadsheets will blow the competition out of the water, leaving the cunt-mollusk weeping and gasping for air and wondering what in the bloody hell just happened.”