“Hands on the tombstone, little Witch, tonight you are going to learn how to scream my name.”
I shook my head, the protest dying in my throat as he slid his hands up to my hips and spun me around.
If I had been a sane person, I would have noticed the silence of the forest, would have acknowledged the stillness of the wind. But I was not a sane person, and so I parted my thighs and arched my back, bracing myself for what was to come.
The newly cut stone felt cool against my touch as I curled my fingers around the width of the tombstone. I felt a rustle behind me, but before the thought could truly formulate - before I could question what was happening, the Demon slid the skirt of my dress up, exposing my ass to the humidity that seemed to permeate the air. He pressed a kiss against my ass, gentle and almost questioning, before shifting the fabric of my panties to one side, his breath and exhale in my crack, before his tongue swiped against my sweet spot. I bucked against his face, standing atop my grandmother’s grave as I gripped onto her headstone, but none of that mattered - not when his tongue was on me.
I panted and moaned loudly with only the dead to hear me climb to those heights that only the Demon seemed capable of transporting me to, and just when I was on the edge, about to tip over and freefall into the abyss, my hips grinding against his mouth, a rhythm all their own, the Demon pulled back.
“Scream my name, Witch.” His voice was guttural and low.
“You mean Demon?” The sarcasm I attempted to throw in was lost by the breathiness of my voice, and my hips did not stop their grinding as I sought the friction I so desperately needed to get me there.
His hands gripped my thighs in a strong, bruising motion and I shook beneath his touch. He chuckled darkly, and where I should have felt fear, I only felt excitement, allowing my own darkness to rise to the surface in challenge.
“I am a master of pleasure, Marie. You think you’ll win this round, but I can keep you on the brink for hours.”
He slid inside me in one fluid motion and it was all I could do to bend forward, bracing myself against the headstone as he moved in and out of me at a brutal pace. He did not start off slow - did not give me a moment to adjust to the size of him, he fucked me as only a Demon could.
My breasts bounced and swayed above the stonework and I moaned loudly, the sound echoing in the forest around us. And just when I was nearing the crest, the Demon pulled out of me entirely, the loss almost unfathomable. I spun around, glaring at his emerald gaze, but the Demon only smirked.
“Up on the tombstone, Marie, it’s time to change position.”
He couldn’t be serious.
But when I seemingly took too long to move - to do anything, he hoisted me up himself, ensuring that I sat on the headstone which seemed to line up perfectly with his cock.
I didn’t think as I parted my thighs, and once he stepped between my legs, sliding back into me, the new angle creating an array of fresh sensations, I tightened my thighs around his waist.
Once more he worked me at a brutal pace and I was so wired - so one edge that it didn’t take long for me to spiral higher and higher towards that sweet crescendo. And just like the previous time, he halted his movements, only this time he did not pull away entirely. I felt his cock twitch inside of me, we were both eager, but he ignored the desires of his body and simply gazed down at me.
I knew what he wanted, and it had become apparent that if I did not moan his name, I would be forever chasing a non-existent orgasm.
I langled my body backward, bracing my arms to hold my new position, allowing him to slide in deeper.
“Cortland.” I moaned his name with all the false bravado of an actress being delivered an American pizza. He only smirked, understanding all too well what I was doing, but he finally began moving, thrusting in and out in long deep movements.
He flicked my clit as he slid in and out and the harshness of the movement, coupled with the way in which he felt inside of me, had my entire body shivering almost involuntarily.
“Marie.” My name was a growl on his lips - a command of sorts, and I could only comply as he worked me closer and closer to that blissful plane.
“Cortland.” I moaned his name once more, only this time it sounded less false, and far breathier. He flicked my clit again. And again, all the while sliding in and out of me until I was mindless with my own need, chasing my pleasure.
“Cort.” Something about the way I moaned the shortened version of his name seemed to spur the Demon on more, and suddenly his bruising grip seemed to pull me closer, his fingers seemed to work faster, and his entire tempo increased until the sounds of us seemed to dominate the forest,
“Cort. Cort. Cort.” It was a chant - a plea - a curse. It was everything he had demanded, and only half of what I was prepared to give, and yet it was enough, because soon enough, the Demon pushed me over the edge and I shuddered around him, seated on my grandmother’s tombstone. He followed soon after, his head pressed against my neck, his teeth sinking into my shoulder as he too found his release.
We stood like that, panting against one another as we fought to come down from the euphoric high that had encapsulated us, until finally, he stepped back, pulling his still hard cock from me.
The Demon appeared as dazed as I felt, and I ignored the way that something within me had seemed to soften when he offered me his hand, assisting me down from where I had been perched.
As soon as my feet hit the newly tilled soil, the mixture of our respective releases dripped out of me, sinking deep into the earth - an offering of sorts to the dead.
I snorted at that thought. Ordinarily one would offer the dead a shot of whiskey and not cum, but I had long ago accepted that nothing about this situation was ordinary.