Chapter 9
My eyes flutter open, and I stare at the ceiling for a bit before I figure out where I am. Lumps from the old couch dig into my back and I groan. Turning on my side, I narrowly avoid dumping myself onto the floor. My hand flops around and I almost smack myself in the face.
“What the hell?” I groan as I push upright.
I almost feel like I got drunk last night and am paying for it now.
I didn't. At least, I'm pretty sure I didn't. My memories slowly return as I massage my fingers.
Omen was here. I accidentally summoned him, yet he stuck around.
It must have been a dream, though. Otherwise, it'd mean he was here.
And I opened up to him about my feelings.
No, it must have been a dream. Why would a demon hang out? Especially with a witch. It doesn't happen as far as I know. Most witches aren't summoning demons in the first place.
My eyes catch on the desk, decidedly not in pieces and sitting in the middle of the living room.
I scramble to my feet, then slow, brushing my fingers across the burn marks gracing the top.
I had plans to paint it, but I don't know if I'd be able to now.
Having Omen here, drinking tea and bitching over a desk, was refreshing.
I don't have it in me to resent my friends, but having no one to talk to hasn't been easy.
When he asked about the vacation, I tried to play it off as no big deal.
They're free to do whatever they want. Not even getting an invitation, though…
hurt. Thank fuck I didn't start crying in front of him.
It was embarrassing enough to spill my guts.
Tears would've made it worse. Other than paperwork and meetings, he didn't really tell me anything. I wonder if he's even allowed to.
“Hopefully, he doesn't get in trouble,” I mutter.
Even though he didn't open up about his deepest, darkest secrets, he revealed a lot more than I expected.
He told me about his place in Hell and what happens when I summon him.
Between him explaining pocket dimensions and the shadows always swirling around him, I feel like I got a glimpse of the demon underneath the reddish skin and horns.
I'm sure he just had no other place to go, but a thrill rolls through me that he stayed with me. Which is exactly what I shouldn't be feeling. Reminding myself he's a demon I should stay away from gets harder and harder with every interaction.
I hum to myself as I make my way to the bathroom. Am I fantasizing about what it would be like if he were here more often? Maybe. Do I realize it's futile? Absolutely. Still, a witch can dream. Especially since I know what he looks like naked.
I go about my normal routine of showering, dressing, and throwing my hair up in a ponytail. I play our conversation from last night over and over in my head. By the time I start making breakfast, I'm lagging. The singing has stopped and my mind is mush.
Sleeping on the couch was not smart. I'm surprised I didn't fall off in the middle of the night. I glance at the clock in the kitchen, wondering what time he left, and realize I slept through breakfast and most of lunch. I'm not hungry, but I shouldn’t waste the food.
There's a nervous energy permeating the space—the entire house, really.
I end up in my bedroom, stripping down to just a tank top and underwear.
Flicking the heavy curtains over the windows, I'm plunged into darkness.
As I slide between the cool sheets, my eyes grow heavy.
I haven't even been up for more than an hour, but my body is clearly done for the day.
A nap will help clear the current of electricity swirling about.
If I had it in me, I'd brew some herbs to cleanse everything.
Except it doesn't feel malevolent. It's just different.
I wouldn't be surprised if Omen was the cause.
I wouldn't know since I've never entertained demons before.
My muscles relax one by one and I close my eyes, waiting for sleep to take me.
It doesn't. Because she's a fickle bitch.
I doze for I don't know how long, flipping from one side to the other.
I end up staring at the dark wood above me after a while.
My mind wanders back to Omen. More specifically to the cage piercing his cock.
A giggle slips out, and I'm pretty sure I'm blushing.
A jittery energy washes over me, which is probably because I haven't been laid in forever.
I gave up on one-night stands long ago. There aren't many single people in my small town and I haven't had much luck with dating apps, as evidenced by my last encounter.
No one wants to travel an hour for a first date, myself included.
Brandon was a fluke—a last-ditch effort to see if I could find someone and stop fantasizing about a demon.
Still, it's one thing to admire Omen's body and completely another to imagine what it'd be like to sleep with him.
It's not like he's here, though. He'd never know I was getting off to my memories of him.
And it's his fault, anyway, what with his flirtatious innuendos and that devastating smirk.
He knows exactly what he's doing. Besides, I need something to help my body relax and this is the easiest solution at my fingertips. Literally.
I scratch my nails across my sheets, debating whether I should pull out my toy or get up and be productive. The toy wins, and I fish it from my nightstand.
When I close my eyes, an image of Omen decked out in a whole lot of nothing flashes behind my lids.
A shudder runs through me as I slip off my sweatpants and underwear.
I debate taking off my tank top, then decide against it.
I slide one hand under the fabric to cup my breast and the other between my legs.
Fantasy Omen's lips twitch at how wet I am.
It's hard to pretend it's him touching me instead of my own hands.
I bet his long fingers would have my body in a puddle at his feet.
At this point, all he'd have to do is give me a come-hither smirk and I'd be running.
Which I will blame solely on my dry spell and not on the fact he seems to know exactly how to seduce a woman—witch or not.
Huffing, I focus on the pleasure building in me.
Heat flashes through my body as I pinch my nipple.
I grab the vibrator and press the button, but nothing happens.
I flip back the covers and push harder until a buzz fills the room.
At the first touch, I jolt and squeeze the toy.
It changes the setting, going from a constant purr to a rhythm I know no one uses.
Who wants to be hit with a bolt of pleasure every three point seven seconds?
I end up cycling through all the modes before it starts over.
I let out a sigh and close my eyes again.
For something that's supposed to be exhilarating, it's becoming more hassle than it's worth.
A soft moan leaves me when I find the right spot.
My knees fall open and the comforter slips to my feet.
Euphoria fills me up, one drop at a time.
Part of me wishes I would have grabbed the other toy so I have something to clamp down on, but I'm not about to stop now.
Just as I'm about to tip over the edge, the toy stops.
I press harder into my clit, waiting for it to start up again.
A little more and I'll finally have relief.
Omen's voice whispers in my ear, goading me on.
With a groan, I use the now-silent vibrator to circle the sensitive spot.
My legs shake as my orgasm sits just out of reach.
A strangled cry leaves me as the vibrator explodes to life.
I suck in a sharp breath, squeezing my eyes shut as I scramble to seize my only chance at a climax.
I don't know why I'm still trying. Giving up would be easier.
Hell, calling for Omen to help me out would be the best solution.
And the worst. He probably hasn't touched himself to thoughts of me.
A random witch who summoned him? Not exactly a master seductress.
My palm slides from one breast to the other, imagining the fingers are someone else's. A particular someone. I squirm as memories of him and his special hardware flit through my mind. I dance on the edge, desperately trying to hurtle myself into oblivion. My pussy spasms once, then twice.
Frustration hits me and I huff, dropping the toy between my legs. It's probably because I stayed up half the night. Or I'm just too horny. I don't know if that's a thing or not, but I wouldn't be surprised. Blaming Omen probably isn't fair. I'm going to do it, anyway.
“Need some help there, little witch?” Omen's deep timbre flows over me and my eyes flutter closed.
Then it hits me. His voice wasn't in my head.
I shriek, rolling as I tug the comforter over my naked body. I keep moving until I fall over the side of the bed. Strong hands grab me and lift me up. I bury my burning face in the covers.
“How long were you standing there?” I moan, curling in on myself.
He chuckles as he sits on my bed and settles me on his lap. “You did call me, Clara. You should have known I'd show up once you summoned me.”
“So you just hung around watching while I…while I…” I scrunch up my nose, unable to finish.
I'm not a prude or anything. Talking about sex isn't something I shy away from. Except I've never been in this particular position before. No one's ever caught me in the act. Especially while moaning their name.
“While you played with your pretty—”
I shriek again and struggle to slap my hand over his mouth. Except I'm bundled up in a blanket and I can't see him. His booming laugh rumbles through the air, sending a shiver through me. He barely cracked a smile last night, though he was more relaxed than I'd seen him before.
“Can we just pretend this didn't happen? And can you put me down?” I mumble through the fabric.
Without a word, he sets me gently on the bed. The mattress dips as he stands. By the time I extricate myself from the covers, he's gone. I glance around the room, wondering if he'll pop back up. As the silence stretches, I realize he actually left.
“That's not what I meant,” I yell.
No one answers.