“And if I do make a sound?”
“You’ll regret it.”
Oh, she didn’t doubt that. He could be a sadistic fucker when he felt like it. To say that he “liked” control would be an understatement. It was important to him on a fundamental level. She couldn’t hand over complete control to him. Her life was her own. But she could give it to him in the bedroom. Most of the time she did, since it always worked out well for her, but she didn’t do it easily.
“Remember what I told you, Harper.” It was a silkily spoken warning.
“How could I freaking forget?” There was a slight chill in the air as his eyes bled to black. “Can’t you be on my side?” she asked the demon.
Its mouth curved. “I like the noises you make. But I also like to play.” As if to punctuate that, it sank one ice-cold psychic finger inside her. Instantly, her pussy began to heat until it was burning. Knox resurfaced and shot her a cautioning look that promised retribution. “Not a sound.”
Cursing, she grabbed his pillow and put it over her head. Harper bit back a gasp as he danced his tongue over the black, intricate swirl of thorns on the V of her thighs – it was the third brand of ownership that his demon had given her.
As his tongue slid between her folds, she practically melted into the mattress. There were guys who would give a half-hearted attempt at oral and who treated it as a means to an end. Then there were guys who would go down on their partner like it was an Olympic sport, who took their time and enjoyed it. Knox was one of the latter, which made her a lucky bitch.
Every lick and stab of his tongue was almost casual, as if he had no objective and simply wanted to taste her. If it wasn’t for how hard his fingers dug into her tremoring thighs, she wouldn’t know just how badly he wanted to be in her.
“I know you’re hurting, baby,” he said against her folds. “I’ll take it away soon.”
He’d better. That was the thing. The psychic fingers didn’t just work to rev her engines, they sparked an ache inside her that only Knox would fill. No one else would take it away. Just him.
He kept on tasting and torturing her, and her orgasm soon began to build. She knew it would be a big one. There was no way she’d keep quiet. She squirmed, dislodging him. Grunting, he repositioned her and latched onto her clit. At the same time, one psychic finger pushed into her pussy, making it blaze unbearably.
“Come, but be quiet.” It was an order, and her body automatically responded to it.
She bit into the pillow as wave after wave of pleasure crashed into her, wracking her body. The pillow disappeared, and there was Knox. The ice-cold finger dissipated, making her pussy blaze and spasm. Then psychic hands lifted her trembling thighs, angling her hips.
Knox licked along the collar of thorns on her throat. “You’re like a drug.”
“Drugs are bad for you.”
His mouth curved. “Not this drug. It’s new on the street. But only I get to have it.” She laughed. Knox placed the head of his cock near her opening, but he didn’t push inside. He stayed there, let her feel him, let her know what was coming. She squirmed, trying to impale herself on him. He placed a splayed hand on her stomach and shook his head.
Frustrated that he was making her wait, she snapped, “Okay, what do you want?”
“I have everything I want right here, baby. It’s already mine. Now I’m going to take it.” He sucked her nipple into his mouth and slammed home.
She inhaled sharply as his cock filled and stretched her just right, making all kinds of nerve endings spark and flame. It was almost painful, courtesy of the damn psychic fingers that always left her inner walls hypersensitive. She could feel every ridge, every vein, every throb.
“That’s it, don’t make a sound.” Her eyes called him evil. Knox dragged his teeth down her neck and gave her pulse a sharp bite. Her hot, wet pussy tightened around his cock. “Nothing feels better than this.” Then he fucked her. Hard. Deep. Slamming in and out of her, loving the prick of her nails on his back. “I’ve wanted to do this all fucking day.”
Fisting her hair, Knox bit and sucked at her neck, leaving little marks of possession that his demon loved to look at. Feeling her pussy flutter around him, Knox thrust harder. Faster. She sank her teeth around his shoulder as she came, but he didn’t stop. He kept pounding into her, pushing her closer and closer to yet another orgasm. “Now let me hear you.”
“You’re a bastard!” she burst out.
If he wasn’t out of his mind with need, he would have laughed. Instead, he watched her face, savoring her moans, throaty little whimpers, and the hot clasp of her pussy. “Let me feel you come.”
An ice-cold psychic finger flicked her clit, and Harper arched into Knox as her release crashed into her, trapping a scream in her throat. She felt his cock swell as he slammed into her twice, and then his spine locked and she felt every splash of his come. Panting and tremoring, she had to ask… “How are you still hard?”
He sighed. “You always ask me that. Why?”
“You just fucked me into oblivion. You should have no energy.”
He licked at the anchor mark on the hollow beneath her ear. She’d left a similar mark on his, effectively branding him as her anchor. “I can’t be inside you and not be hard.”
He rolled them both onto their sides, keeping her close. Feeling him stroke her back, Harper knew he was searching for any slices that hadn’t yet completely healed. “They’re gone,” she assured him.
Though he was pretty sure that was in fact the case, Knox needed to see that for himself. He gently turned her onto her stomach and swept his hand down her sleek back. No wounds, no blemishes, no trace that she’d ever been hurt – there was only the tattoo-like marks of her wings.
Relieved, Knox pressed a kiss between her shoulder blades, silently promising not to allow anyone to take the wings from her. And when he found the person who sent those hunters her way, he’d make what the hunters went through seem like a fucking pleasure cruise.
CHAPTER FIVE
The coffeehouse was always fairly busy in the mornings, so Harper was used to standing in the long line. Patience wasn’t her strong point, but it would be worth the wait. She didn’t need to look at the menu board or the chalkboard advertising the specials. She always ordered a caramel latte – it had become her ritual, and nowhere did lattes better than this place.
So she stood there, surrounded by the sounds of chatting, the hum of the blenders and espresso machines, and the clatter of mugs and dishes being stacked in the dishwasher. She didn’t mind the noise, though. She did mind that her tongue was burning like crazy for no apparent reason. Hopefully the latte would help with that.
Harper inhaled deeply, taking in the comforting smells and coffee beans. She loved it. Loved how the scents of chocolate, cinnamon, caramel, and nutmeg blended so nicely with it. Usually, she’d be tempted by the pastries inside the glass case. Honestly, she was more interested in snatching the tall canister of whipped cream and eating it all to herself. An interest she would, of course, totally ignore because it was just plain weird.
Tanner and the girls were gathered around the bistro table near the window; it had become their spot. Tanner, as usual, was flicking through a newspaper, but Harper knew he was fully aware of everything going on around him.
Finally reaching the front of the line, Harper smiled at the barista. “Morning.”
“Good morning. I placed your usual order as soon as I spotted you – it should be ready by now.” It was something the she-demon often did, since they always ordered the same things.
“Thank you.” Harper handed her the money and, after placing her change in the tip jar, headed to the end of the counter. There, another barista was placing cups on a tray. This particular she-demon, Wren, reminded Harper of one of her cousins – she was bright, ditsy, and extremely quirky.
She smiled at Harper. “Got your order right here.” She placed one of the cups in Harper’s hand. “Try this instead of a latte.”
Harper sniffed. “What is it?”
“Just frothed vanilla milk.”
“But I love my lattes.” Harper was ashamed to say she almost whined that.