3. Vesper
Vesper
Idrop onto the edge of my mattress, adrenaline slowly leaching from my blood and leaving a jittery exhaustion.
I drag my attention all across Valefar’s massive frame. The rocking chair is hilariously out of the question. He’s the size of a mountain. He’d break it instantly.
I glance back at the towering, horned demon standing awkwardly near my door. I wonder what my landlord would say about a spawn from hell.
He’ll either have to share this bed—which is big enough, but the thought alone makes my pulse jump. Or I’ll have him drag the heavy futon from my office in here. Given all his slabbed muscles, he could probably lift it with one hand.
But as I watch him, the thought of furniture evaporates.
Valefar is doubled over, his massive hands braced on his thighs as a violent shudder rips through his frame. His brow furrows deeply, teeth gritted in obvious agony. It looks like he’s suffering from the worst stomach cramps known to mankind—or demon-kind. He looks like he’s dying.
“Hey,” I say softly, pushing off the mattress.
I cross the floor and reach out, laying a gentle hand on his broad, scorched-bronze shoulder.
Instantly, he tenses. Before I can blink, his spade-tipped tail snaps out like a bullwhip. He snaps upright as the tail fires, coiling thickly around my waist, winding tight, and yanking me forward.
I gasp, the breath knocked out of my lungs as I crash against his lower chest. “Whoa—”
The word dies in my throat. Flush against him, there is absolutely no mistaking the rigid, massive column jutting against my stomach from beneath his leather loincloth. It is heavy, searing hot, and pulsing frantically against my skin.
Arousal spikes, shooting straight down to my core, pooling hot and heavy between my thighs. My nipples immediately peak, tightening into hard, sensitive points that rub painfully against the damp towel.
“I—forgive me,” Valefar stammers, his deep voice fracturing. He tries to reel himself in, but his tail remains stubbornly wrapped around me, the spade-tip twitching against the small of my back. “I apologize. It seems to have a mind of its own. Pure instinct.”
I stare up at him, my hands instinctively resting against his chest, above his frenzied heartbeat.
“This has never happened before,” he rushes on with alarm. “I have never experienced a human who was…living. In the domain below, they are dead. Cold. Hollow. You are so warm. You are so alive.”
He is completely unraveling. His powerful body trembles violently. He’s burning up, his skin radiating a furnace-like heat against mine, and then I see them: faint wisps of smoke curling from his pores. A desperate, raw vulnerability floods his gaze and makes my breath hitch.
I reach up, brushing the damp strands of hair back from his face to press my cool fingers against his forehead.
“Poor big guy,” I murmur, surprised by the gentleness in my own voice. “You’re burning up. Maybe we should get you into the shower.”
He cocks his horned head to the side, swallowing so hard his Adam’s apple bobs sharply. Maybe Devil’s apple. He pales slightly. “We only have acid showers in hell. We use them for torture.”
I tip my head back with a breathless laugh. “Then you’re in for a treat, Valefar.”
His pointed ears twitch, and his jagged teeth slip out to bite his bottom lip. He apologizes again for the tail, for his teeth, for everything. He practically begs for mercy.
“Why are your cheeks so red?” he asks, his brow dipping in genuine concern. “Is it a condition? A sickness? The humans in my realm are pale and white as ice…unless I am setting them on fire.”
I snort, genuine laughter bubbling up from my chest. The rigid grip of his tail around my waist loosens just a fraction.
Seizing the opportunity, I wrap my fingers securely around the thick, velvety tail and use it exactly like a leash.
I step backward, giving a gentle tug, spinning out of its grip.
“Come on, big guy. Let’s get you into the shower. Follow me.”
His golden eyes flash with a dark, terrifying devotion. “To hell and back.”
I arch a brow, turning my head to hide the silly smile pulling at my lips.
I lead him into the small attached bathroom. It’s cramped with him in it, his horns missing the ceiling fixture by inches. I step in and twist the faucet, adjusting the spray until it’s lukewarm, gesturing for him to get in.
He steps under the spray and hisses, his muscles locking up. “Too hot.”
I twist the knob further to the right. “Cold?”
“Colder,” he bites out, his hands gripping the tile wall.
I turn it again. “More?”
“Colder.”
I crank the handle all the way to the right. Pure, unadulterated cold water blasts from the showerhead.
Valefar drops to his knees on the tiled floor, his massive frame folding in on itself. He crosses his arms over his chest, rocking himself under the freezing downpour. “It’s still burning,” he groans, a low, guttural sound that vibrates through my limbs.
The water instantly soaks his leather loincloth, plastering it tightly to his skin, showing the outline of his arousal. My mind reels. It’s a thick, aggressive ridge tenting the heavy leather. My mouth goes dry, a hot pulse echoing between my legs.
“Wait just a second,” I tell him, my voice cracking.
I bolt out of the bathroom, sprinting to the kitchen. I rip open the freezer, grab the bag of ice, and snatch a mop bucket. I dump the ice in, turn on the tap, and fill it with freezing water, blowing a breath of utter disbelief through my nostrils.
This is officially the weirdest Ice Bucket Challenge of the century.
I haul the heavy, sloshing bucket back into the bathroom.
Valefar is still rocking on the shower floor, his wet, dark hair clinging to his sculpted cheeks. He’s making low, miserable growls punctuated by small, pathetic whimpers.
“Brace yourself, big guy,” I warn.
I hoist the bucket and dump the sheer, freezing mass of ice and water over his head and shoulders.
He gasps sharply, but then his shoulders slowly drop. The violent tremors ease but don’t fade, and his breathing smooths into deeper, steadier pulls of air.
“Thank you,” he rumbles, peering up at me through long, wet lashes.
I nod, setting down the bucket. “You’re welcome.”
But then, I realize the ice bath hasn’t solved the main issue. His erection is still raging, proudly demanding attention beneath the soaked leather.
I heave a sigh. This night is just utterly derailed. I start to turn away, but I don’t even make it a full step before his tail snaps out like lightning, sealing around my ankle and dragging me back.
“I am sorry.” His voice is a gravelly plea. “I cannot stop it.”
I look down at him, battling the instinct to pry his tail off. Instead, a reckless, wild thrill surges through my blood. Welp, I think, my core clenching with anticipation. Embrace the suck.
Though, truthfully, I’m thinking of a completely different type of suck.
I plant my hands on my hips, staring down at this powerful creature kneeling before me. “Okay, just FYI: I never do this. So please don’t be a dick.”
He looks up at me, his scaled brow furrowing in confusion. I chew on my inner cheek, my heart hammering against my ribs. Then, I unfasten the towel and let the cotton pool onto the bathroom floor behind me.
Valefar’s eyes flare so wide, they nearly pop out of his skull. The ring of fire in his irises flares, raw hunger stripping away his previous misery.
I part my lips in a slow, knowing smile as his ravenous gaze roams over my body, drinking in the curve of my hips, the swell of my breasts, the flush of my skin. His attention flicks between my tattoos as if intrigued.
“Well,” I start, my voice a smoky rasp. “What do you thi—”
In the fraction of a second, Valefar surges upward. His massive body presses against mine, caging me against the shower glass.
I hiss, the heat of his skin shocking against my flesh. Almost instantly, his internal furnace kicks into overdrive where our bodies meet.
“Well,” I laugh softly, my breath catching as his heavy, wet chest rubs against my swollen nipples. “Never had a guy pounce on me quite like that before.”
He is rigid with tension, muscles locked as he battles his own monstrous instincts. He lowers his head until his forehead rests against mine, his breath fanning hot across my lips.
“You feel so good,” he wheezes, a tortured rasp. “It is so much…and not enough. I should leave the room. The pain of the tether would be a blessing compared to this.”
I trace my fingers over the slick, wet slabs of his chest muscles, marveling at the immense power coiled just beneath his skin. My hands trail lower, sweeping over the deep V of his Adonis belt. I marvel at his bronze perfection, the demonic beauty of his horns, the lethal grace of his tail.
He is a monster. A predator. And yet, I am the one holding all the cards.
I’ve never been with a man who lost this much control while simultaneously handing me all the power.
I can sense how weak he feels right now, because of my proximity—whatever this sudden, inexplicable bond he has to my body.
For a creature forged in dominance, this must be an insane torture.
The power trip gives me a dizzying sense of supremacy, but I’m not cruel. I don’t like torture, unless the person really, truly deserves it. Which is laughable, considering he’s a demon.
But after my crazy life, I consider myself a good judge of character. If a demon can have character, Valefar would qualify.
So, when he brings his large, clawed hands up, hovering them mere inches from my face without making contact, I gaze up at his chaotic, fiery gaze.
“I am a demon,” he says, a heavy confession. “I am not good, Beastie. I touched your things but only for a few seconds and with...my tail.”
I ignore the wet strands of his hair sticking to my cheeks, nearly shattering my focus. Slowly, I reach up and take his hands and press his hard, calloused palms against my face, noting the muscles ticking rapidly along his sharp jawline.
“So, what you’re saying is…you’re a thief, but you’re an honest one?”
He nods. Beside us, his tail flicks up and coils around my naked thigh, the spade-tip spreading a wicked, electric tingle across my skin.
“I am a Duke of Thieves,” he rumbles. “I used to command legions, known as the Duke of Deception. But Lucifer grew tired of my pride. He stripped me of my ability to lie so he could interrogate me. I cannot deceive. I can only steal, tempt mortals to steal… and torture.” His lips curl in a self-deprecating sneer.
"And I did so with pathetic inferiority more recently.
So, Lucifer scheduled my execution. Know this, you did not simply summon me, Beastie. You saved me."
Well, I'm not ready to digest that completely yet. Ironically, I'm more curious about his prior words.
“So,” I murmur as ribbons of molten heat unfurl through my center. “What did you momentarily steal?”
He stares dead at me. “A box in your closet full of torture toys that smelled divine.”
I freeze for a split second before a giggle bursts from my throat. A bright blush scalds my cheeks. He thought my sex toys were instruments of torture.
Testing the waters, I slowly arch my back, pressing forward just enough until my pelvis brushes against his heavy leather loincloth. The monster trapped between his legs gives a violent, uncontrollable jerk against me.
“Okay, Big Guy,” I whisper, deciding it’s his official nickname. “Tell me…have you ever had an orgasm?”
He tilts his head, his brow furrowing, genuinely lost.
“Release?” I try again. “Come? Um…ejaculate?”
Recognition dawns in his features, followed by a shrug. “Ahh. Ejaculation only occurs when we perform adequate torture or achieve a grand victory. Lucifer uncages the sensation as a reward. It releases the terrible pressure temporarily. It feels quite similar to pissing.”
My hands drop slowly, resting on the hard ridge of his hips. “But…what you’re feeling right now. It’s not the urge to piss, is it?”
He shakes his head emphatically.
“Where does it hurt?”
He lowers his large hand, pressing it flat against his soaring erection.
I place my smaller hand over his. “What does it feel like?”
“Fire,” he says instantly, his voice cracking. “Liquid fire from the bowels of the pit. In my cock. In my testicles.”
I hover my hand above his, letting the agonizing anticipation build while I work out my thoughts. I lick my lips, my own desire like a heavy, throbbing ache between my thighs that demands attention.
“If you could ask me one question right now,” I hint, locking onto his deeply dilated pupils. “What would it be, Valefar?”
He glances down at my hand, then studies me with a desperate, feral hunger. The thick veins bulge along his neck; his chest rises and falls in greedy pants. He’s a predator begging for permission to be tamed.
And finally, his voice breaks the silence, a low, devastating rumble. “Would you allow me to show you?”
My core melts. A warm, liquid flush sweeps through my entire body. He didn’t demand. He didn’t ask me to touch him, or say “Can I show you” like a possessive beast claiming territory. He gave me all of the power. Would you allow me?
That absolute surrender ignites something feral and dominant inside me. I nod slowly. “Show me.”
His hands go to his hips. With a swift wrench, he unties the thick leather strings and lets the heavy loincloth hit the wet tiles.
My breath rushes out, my stomach performing a violent, magmatic swan dive—if the swan was diving into a whirlpool of hot liquid desire.
He is breathtaking. A rich, burnished bronze grows darker at the heavy, thick base.
A pointed tip tapers into a smooth, soft head, leading to a generous shaft with a single, prominent vein tracing a jagged path straight down the center.
He is longer and thicker than anything I have ever seen, a completely monstrous, magnificent piece of demonic anatomy.
My heartbeat thunders in my ears, drowning out the sound of the shower.
I look back up into his desperate, burning eyes. “Will you allow me to touch you, Valefar?” Power thrums in my veins. “And help the pain? And…I want to.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Please, Mistress.”
A wide, wicked grin stretches slowly across my face.
“Mistress. I like that. Mistress Beastie.” I step closer, closing the final inch between us.
“When we are alone together, like this, you will call me Mistress or Mistress Beastie. I will accept Lady Beastie, too. The rest of the time, I am Vesper. Okay, Val. I’m about to blow your mind. And something else.”
I survey the length of him one last time, my breathing shallow and fast.
And then, my hands wrap completely around him.