Chapter 18 #2
He turned so that he sat on the edge of the bed, and I stood between his legs.
His hand never let go of mine. He didn’t rush to rip off my clothes, and he only gripped that one hand for physical contact.
Without words, he told me this was my choice.
How much he saw, how much we touched, how fast or slow this went.
Though, I didn’t miss how hard his jaw clenched through his soft yet lustful smile or how his obsidian eyes practically sweltered with a passionate heat that even his Incubi friends couldn’t hope to feel. He was holding back. And he did so for my sake.
That only made me want him more.
Most of my walls were still firmly in place. I couldn’t stomach the idea of taking off my clothes. Not yet. Baring myself like that was too much. He seemed to see that decision get made in my eyes, because he gave a small understanding dip of his head.
He slid back along the bed and tugged me after him so that I crawled on my knees.
When we reached the center of the bed, he stopped and opened his legs for me to settle between them.
My knees bent to my chest like a final boss that I had to conquer.
Heat poured from his hold into mine. I looked at our joined hands before my gaze swung to his nearly naked body.
Releasing his grip, I gingerly coasted my fingertips up his forearm.
I took my time tracing the gothic cathedral tattoo he’d given himself before continuing up his arm and over his shoulder.
His bare skin under my fingers made something raw climb my throat, and I had to swallow hard.
I flattened my hand against his chest and soaked in the way his muscled torso felt beneath my palm.
“Did you know?” I asked hoarsely. I stared at my hand, which rested atop his thundering heart. “You’re the only one I can stand touching me.”
A brow rose in surprise. He studied me for a moment then guessed, “Is that why you don’t get more tattoos?”
“Kinda hard to get inked when being touched kills you.”
He looked up at the ceiling and gave a small, humorless chuckle under his breath. “That definitely explains some things.” He met my gaze again. “Is that why you haven’t explored sex or physical intimacy, either?”
I chewed on the inside of my lip and nodded once more.
“But you’re okay if I touch you?”
The question shot liquid fire right through me. My heart nearly leapt from my chest, and I gave a single nod. “Is—Is that weird?”
His head angled down as he watched me with the hint of a tender smile toying at his lips. He grabbed my ankle and draped that leg over one of his thighs. Our gazes never broke as he did the same with my other leg. “Do you know what Mischief demons are known for?”
I didn’t understand the change in topic, but I didn’t mind it. Learning about demons, and by extension, Xander, was something I loved.
“Causing trouble?”
He smirked as he rubbed each of my ankles and kneaded the muscles of my calves.
“That, yes. But more specifically, we have a special skill that other demons don’t.
We can collect souls of the dead. Ghosts.
We can claim them as our own to use. They feed off the energy of humans and funnel that power back to us.
The more ghosts a Mischief demon has, the more powerful they are. ”
My eyes widened as I listened. I pictured Xander standing in his demonic form with an army of ghosts at his back. Honestly, I didn’t like the idea. I loved spirits. Thinking of them as pawns in a power game for demons made my stomach churn.
Xander snickered, no doubt reading the meaning behind my growing scowl. His hands continued their massaging ascent along my legs, now nearing my knees. “Guess how many I have in my horde, Ghost.”
“I’d rather not,” I mumbled.
He leaned forward so that our noses nearly touched, and with the motion, he slid his hands up my parted legs to land on the outer sides of my thighs.
His voice dropped to reveal, “One. You’re my ghost, Kendyll.
So do I think it’s weird that only my touch brings you comfort, brings you refuge, brings you a hunger for more?
No. I think it’s goddamn perfect. You’re perfect. ”
I couldn’t take in a breath. Only short and quiet pants left my parted lips.
Neither of us closed the gap between our faces.
We were two charged batteries that fed off the other and were ready to explode at the slightest shift.
The raw need that funneled through me became all I could focus on.
An unexpected boldness followed his words.
His only ghost.
Perfect.
He’d witnessed and now knew part of my fucked up truth. He’d heard what others told me was an illness, a broken thing that needed fixing.
Yet, to him, my fragmented pieces making up this shell of a body were perfect and all he needed—all he wanted.
This body deserved love. This body wanted love, from both myself and from him.
For the first time in my life, I was comfortable in this skin with all of its faults, issues, and wounds. I wasn’t sure how long that feeling would last, so as the hungry desire sweltered between us, I let go of my hesitations.
Like prey caught in a spider’s web, I was trapped within his hold, fixed under his power, which always managed to snag me.
But I didn’t fight the pull. I wanted him to devour me.
I wanted him to sink his fangs in and corrupt me with his venom.
After all, what might’ve been poison for others was an antidote for me.
My hands moved without my heavy mind controlling them.
I placed one hand over Xander’s where he cupped my hip.
The other slipped under the waistband of my shorts to find where I ached.
The minute my finger slid through the crease and was engulfed in the wetness gathered there, I bit my lip to stifle an equally shocked and excited sound.
Xander’s lips parted as his face still hovered in front of mine.
Only his eyes moved to fix on where my hand searched for what felt right.
“I still don’t know what I’m doing,” I declared around a shaky breath.
He squeezed my hip firmly, making a bolt of lighting whip through my center. Following that spark, I slid my finger higher than where it had ventured and struck a spot that made my eyes round and legs shake briefly where they were draped open over his thighs.
“There you go,” Xander purred, watching my hand beneath my shorts. “Keep rubbing right where it feels good.”
“Like this?” I whimpered, circling my finger around and over what had to be my clit. I knew that much at least.
“Just like that.”
My hips bucked from the electrifying heat claiming my body and mind.
The motion had me inching closer to Xander so that my spread legs nearly brushed against the hard cock in his boxers.
Lust made me wonder what that would feel like—rubbing my pussy against him, pressing our chests together, finally tasting him on my lips and tongue.
The only thing that stopped me from seeking out those things was Xander’s sudden movement.
My hand continued to cover his on my hip, but his free hand left my other leg to reach for his dark briefs.
He shoved the band of them down, and my eyes nearly rolled back at the mouth-watering sight of his hard cock finally springing free.
Precum gathered on the head, and I watched with mouth agape as he dragged his thumb over that pearlescent drop to coat the tip of his dick.
“Fuck,” I hissed, rubbing faster at the pulsing point of my wet center.
I chased the rushing high that was gathering where my hand worked.
Meanwhile, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the sight of Xander gripping his dick and giving it a few leisure pumps.
He let go of his cock, and my eyes snapped up to his with a look of utter loss undoubtedly on my face.
His heated gaze met mine, and the corner of his lip lifted when he saw my expression.
He held his hand palm up in front of my face and commanded huskily, “Spit.”