My lust-addled brain seems to have forgotten the insult and the hurt. My dick, too.
The only response Professor Brax seems able to give is a growl so deep I feel it in my toes.
I tube around and face him, eye to eye. I almost stumble, my knees weak from the alcohol (or so I tell myself). “I don’t belong to you.”
Each word a punch he flinches from. His eyes darken. The juts of black bone that adorn his daemon skin are just visible beneath the carefully adorned mask. “You will.” He picks me up, throws me over his shoulder, and storms out of the house in full view of the entire party.
Is he insane? Everyone will notice!
Around a corner and down a dark alley, he finally puts me on my feet, then shoves me against the nearest wall. “Stop pushing me.”
“Or what?” I ask, leaning into him.
His eyes darken to a black that takes over his entire iris as his mask slips. His horns burst out, his skin darkens to maroon, and black bits of bone pepper his forehead and cheekbones.
“You’ll take me back to your lair and use my ‘services’?” I meet his gaze, unafraid. Horny but determined.
He flinches. His gaze softens. “I ... I am sorry. I merely meant I want you to get something out of our exchanges: contentment, orgasms, affection ... dinner?”
A small giggle bursts out of my mouth. “Are you trying to ask me out?” At his nod, I take a deep breath and avoid his gaze. “If you must know, I rather enjoy sex, giving, receiving, quickies, long weekends with repeat orgasms. Sure, dinner’s nice. I neversay no to flowers.” My hand grazes down his jacket and undoes the button. “But right now, dinner isn’t what I want.”
He leans in and places a soft kiss on my neck. “What do you want?”
I lean my head sideward, giving him more room to scrape those fangs along bare skin. “Your cock up my ass and your fingers wrapped tight around my cock.”
An elicit moan escapes him as grinds a hard bulge into me. “I’m supposed to treat you well. To court you.”
“And if you promise to keep me freshly fucked until graduation, I’ll let you.” The timeline slipped out unbidden. Do I really want him to stick around in my life that long? Usually I prefer them gone by morning.
He pulls back and tucks a finger beneath my chin, lifting it to connect our gazes. “Forget graduation. I’ll keep you freshly fucked until the day the heavens take you. I’ll show you what orgasms can be when you let your daemon mate take control of your perfect little body.”
His words stir something in a part of me I don’t have a name for, somewhere deep and unyielding. Somewhere that needs more than cock and caffeine to be satisfied with life. “Deal.” I rest a hand on his cheek. “Do you want me to help take care of that?” I eye his hardening problem with a smirk.
He laughs, clearly satisfied with the arrangement, but shakes his head. “Yes, but not here. My mate deserves more than an alleyway.”
Mate? I noticed it earlier but thought it was a cute term of endearment. Let’s not ruin the moment by asking now.
He digs into his pocket and pulls out a compact mirror. “Hold on.”
I grab hold of his arms with a tight grip, and he flips open the mirror. A terrible, familiar spinning sensation overwhelms me,and I try to concentrate on not puking. As quickly as it started, however, it stops.
We’re in a different room than the library I popped into last time; one with a bed draped in heavy curtains and a dimly lit bureau adorning the wall to the left. Tapestries, rugs, and a cosy fireplace warm the room.
“This is your bedroom?” Though the question wasn’t needed because he drapes his jacket over the hat stand by the door and begins popping open the buttons on his shirt. “I imagined something a little more opulent.”
“Sorry it doesn’t meet your expectations, little human.”
“No, no. It’s really lovely, actually.” An image of curling up in his arms under the many blankets next to a roaring fire while being fed warm food pops to mind, but I shake it free. “Super cos?—”
My feet leave the floor in almost the same instant that my back meets the mattress.
He hovers over me, his knees between my open legs. “Good God, stop talking.” His breath is hot on my lips, his face inches from mine. “If you need to stop, just say?—”
“Pizza!” I’ve always wanted to have sex where I can use a safe word. “It’s random, not going to be used in the middle of anything, and?—”
His hand covers my mouth, then he replaces it with a plaited silk rope he ties behind my head. “Pizza is fine. Just raise three fingers if you want to stop and can’t talk.”
I nod.