Authors: Multiple
Oh, shuddering fucking hell. Now there
was a bridge he’d cross tomorrow, or maybe in a decade. Yeah, the longer he
kept the pair apart, the better. And he really needed to stop thinking of his
mom because his witch nipped him hard, sensing his distraction.
How remiss of him. He hugged her tight to
let her know he’d not forgotten and let his tongue ply hers with sensual
caresses that soon had her moaning deliciously again.
Tonight, or what was left of it, he
intended to take full advantage of his witch’s passion. Hopefully, he’d make it
memorable enough she wouldn’t kill him in the morning – or make fun of
him for still living with his parents.
Thankfully, his family home wasn’t too
far from the portal, and he staggered there, drunk on kisses, letting himself
in via an old fashioned manner when he realized he’d have to let her go if he
wanted to grab his key. Fuck that. He kicked the door in, an impatient act that
earned him breathy giggles that made his rope of patience snap.
Using his booted foot, he managed to slam
the door shut, kind of. It no longer wanted to latch, but at least they were
out of view. And best of all, alone.
Pressing her up against the wall, he tore
at her blouse, ripping buttons off in his haste. Her creamy breasts appeared
encased in black lace, the tops of them spilling over. He buried his face in
that sweet valley while she clutched at his hair.
“I can’t wait,” he groaned. “I’m sorry. I
need you so fucking bad.”
“Do it,” she urged. “Before I change my
mind and remember why this is a bad idea.”
Oh no she wouldn’t. Seams ripped, fabric
parted in record time as he bared her from the waist down. But, he left her
sexy heels on.
Cupping her pussy, he growled in pleasure
at the heat and moisture he found. How he longed to taste it. But he also
wanted to sink into her. Dammit. What was a poor demon to do?
Show a little restraint and finesse.
Dropping to his knees, she clasped his
hair and gasped as he nuzzled her mound. She didn’t stop him when he pushed at
her thighs, parting them. The scent of her arousal, a heady aroma that made his
head swim, also made his mouth water. His first lick, a slow, long swipe of his
tongue, had her shuddering and sighing his name. Again, he licked her, tasting
her honey, feeling the quiver of her flesh, the biting dig of her nails in his
scalp. The tip of his tongue flicked rapidly, back and forth against her clit,
stroking her nub, heightening her pleasure until she keened and squirmed. But
he drew back before letting her climax because he wanted to feel her coming on
his cock, would die, probably, if he didn’t soon ease the pressure building
inside him since they met.
Standing, he kept one hand on her sex,
lightly stroking her to keep her at a fevered pitch. Her breathing, fast and
furious, she regarded him with a heavy lidded passion that brought forth a
possessive growl.
Mine.
He couldn’t free his shaft fast enough.
Palming her full ass cheeks, he lifted
her as he caught her lips for a kiss. She didn’t seem to mind the taste of
herself on his tongue, the same honey that rubbed along his cock as he slid it
under her sex, teasing them both. Her legs wrapped around his waist, loosely
though which gave him room to juggle her into position so that the head of his
cock came to rest at the entrance of her sex.
He paused before plunging, hesitating
because for some reason he knew he stood on the brink of a life changing
moment.
Once I claim her with my body, that’s it. There will be no other
women for me.
He didn’t question where this certainty came from. He just
knew it to be true.
It didn’t stop him.
He pressed the head of his shaft into
her. Scalding and moist, he panted as her tight channel gripped him and forced
him to penetrate her with a slowness that was both excruciating and damned
wonderful. Inch by inch, he made his way into her sex, pushing at the flesh
that was tense with excitement. It took a pleasurable eternity before he was
fully sheathed, her pussy quivering all around him. Adjusting his grip so that
he held her by both thighs with her back flat against the wall, he rotated his
hips, driving deeper into her. Her fingers clawed at his shoulders and she bit
his lip as he gyrated again, finding her sweet spot and stimulating it. She
mewled, a sound that sent shivers to wrack his body as he sensed her need. A
need he would fulfill.
Slowly, despite his raging desire to
thrust hard and fast, with restraint and a precision that made his body gleam
with sweat, he swirled and pressed, never retreating far from her flesh but
instead rubbing it, grinding into her.
Talk about agony as he held back. Talk
about iron control as her body grew tighter and tighter, squeezing his cock
almost painfully. And then, with a loud cry, she came apart. Her climax pulsed,
undulating waves of heat and moisture that suctioned his shaft, as he finally
allowed himself to lose control and thrust into her. The trembling wave tumbled
into a second strangling spasm that made him yell her name as he jetted into
her. And still the pleasure kept coming.
He caught her lips and kissed her as he
kept his hips thrusting, milking every last ounce of bliss from the moment.
Intense, Hell shattering, body weakening,
and more. She leaned her head into the crook his shoulder, her breathing
erratic and hot on his skin. He didn’t own words grand enough for expressing
how he felt. So he said the next best thing as he rubbed his face across her
silky crown. “Wow.”
* * *
Head cradled against his shoulder, her
body still trembling with aftershocks, Ysabel raised her head to look at Remy.
“Did you just say
wow
?”
“Yup.”
A giggle escaped her. “That’s all you
have to say? What’s wrong, demon? Run out of suave lines?”
“I don’t have anything that seems
appropriate.”
“So, was it everything you hoped for?”
she teased. The light banter surprised her, but not willing to end the moment,
she allowed it.
“Oh my little witch, it was so much
better than I imagined.”
“Really?” Okay that soft, wistful query
surely didn’t come from her? What did she care if he liked it or not? She was
just planning to use him for sex.
“Is this your way of making me show you
again? Because I am totally good with that. And this time, maybe we’ll even
make it to a bed.”
She laughed. “That was kind of impatient
of us. I’m sorry, I don’t usually do crazy things like that.”
“As long as you only do them for me,” he
replied letting her slide down his body until she stood, clad in only her
shoes.
“Why would you care? I thought your motto
was fuck ‘em and leave ‘em’.”
“Maybe I’m ready for something
different.”
He looked so serious that for a moment,
she couldn’t stop her heart from hammering. She mentally slapped herself. What
else did she expect him to say? He wanted to have sex again. Of course he
wasn’t going to say that she meant nothing to him but a pussy to fuck.
“You don’t know how to be serious,” she
said lightly, fighting to not let sadness enter her tone. No strings sex. It
was what she wanted. Nothing else. What she couldn’t figure out was why she
kept needing to remind herself?
“Oh, you’d be surprised, my sexy cougar.
Now what do you say, you get your sweet cheeks up those stairs.”
“And what will you be doing?”
A leer and twinkle in his eyes made her
quiver. “Why chasing you, of course, while admiring that wicked ass of yours.
And imagining what I am going to do to it in a moment.”
Her usual bitchy and practical self would
have sneered at his suggestion and stalked off to get some sleep so she could
get to work tracking down the last two souls. But she’d spent five hundred
years living in a cold, emotionless vacuum. For just one day, actually more
like early morning, she wanted to let loose. Enjoy. Remember what it felt like
to smile and laugh. To feel pleasure.
Bending over to grab her torn blouse and
slacks first, an act that made him groan, she tossed a coy look over her
shoulder before bolting up the winding staircase. She only made it to the first
landing before he swept her up – to her delighted giggles – and
over his shoulder, running the rest of the way to his room. And there, he
showed her how much he liked her ass. Breasts. Pussy. Actually, he worshipped
every part of her body, making her come so many times she ended up falling
asleep, exhausted in his arms, happier that she’d ever been. Wishing it never
had to end.
* * *
Watching her sleep in his arms humbled
Remy because whether she’d admit it or not, his prickly witch trusted him. He
knew she didn’t let people get close to her – and had major issues with
men. But she’d overcome her dislike enough to let him into her life, to let him
make love to her, and now hold her while she slumbered at her most vulnerable.
Forget denying it. Or pretending it was
something else. Remy was in love, however, that knowledge brought a whole
wealth of problems and emotions. He needed to protect her, not just from the
souls, but those who thought to harm her, and that included Ysabel, herself.
Becoming her mate would not happen easily. She would fight him tooth and nail,
and with good reason. His reputation in this case would hamper his efforts.
How to make her believe him when he tried
to explained he wanted her forever as his mate? How to make her understand that
once he gave himself to her, he would never stray? Never hurt her?
She was more likely to lob his head off
with magic before she believed him. But he had to try. And it started right
now.
Easing out of bed, he dressed quietly and
let himself out of the house. There was something he needed to do before she
woke up.
My first step into winning her heart.
Hopefully she wouldn’t
kill him when she found out.
Chapter
Ten
Stretching, in a strange bed, sated and
smiling, Ysabel couldn’t recall ever waking so…what the heck did she feel?
Sore, in a pleasant way. Content, like the cat who ate a pet bird. In other
words, happy. But more than that, her heart wanted to burst. She felt an urge
to sing. Grin. And she possessed a desire to see and thank, in a naked, carnal
fashion, one very special demon.
Holy freaking Satan. She was in love. How
had that happened?
When did one obnoxious, foul mouthed,
good looking and kind hunk manage to get under her prickly shields and ensnare
her heart? She didn’t know the answer, but somehow, he’d done the impossible.
He’d made her feel again. Shown her she’d not lost her capacity to love. Only
one problem though. As an undisputed womanizer, their relationship was
temporary.
Talk about ruining her high. Despite his
declarations, his actions, even her own feelings, she knew better than to think
they had a future. Hell’s number one panty dropper would never settle down with
her. So what could she do?
End things now before they went any
farther. Cut herself off from further pleasure at his hands – and tongue.
No. Not so quickly, not when she’d just
rediscovered happiness. But the other option, heartache when he eventually
moved on…how could she handle it?
There was an option. Kill him. Kill him
before he broke her heart, then she could at least live with the happy memories
instead of watching them get twisted with hatred as happened with her previous
lover. However, that did seem a little drastic.
I’m a five hundred year old witch. Other
women deal with breakups, surely I can too.
Like she had with Francisco? But in that case she had ample
reason for anger given he let her burn alive. She knew Remy would never do
anything like that. Despite his tough guy attitude and exterior, he wouldn’t
intentionally hurt her.
It’s not his fault my stupid heart fell
in love.
Or maybe she was totally misreading
things. As the first male she’d had sex with in five hundred years, it didn’t
automatically mean the Big L. Maybe she was just horny. Perhaps her good will
toward him owed more to the fact he scratched her sexual itch.
Yeah. She could deal with that. Use him
for sex until she tired of him. Given she’d gone centuries without a male
between her legs, surely it wouldn’t take long to sate her new need. She’d stay
in his bed and use his body. And if things ended before she’d quite managed to
slake her lust, then she’d pay a visit to Francisco and his friends. Torture
them a little.
That would surely raise her spirits – and remind
her why men were scum.
Decided, she sat up in the ridiculously
large bed and peered around. Of her big demon stud, she saw no sign. Odd
because she’d felt him kiss her bare shoulder before he slipped out of bed a
while back. He’d just never returned.
I suppose it’s too much to hope he’s gone
to find us some coffee.
And
a donut.
Don’t judge. She figured burning at the stake entitled her to the
sweet treats.
Gaze roving around his room done up in a
masculine grey, brown and blue with no velvet or silk sheets in sight, she
caught a glimpse of a clock – a silhouette of a woman’s naked body
–and gasped.
They’d slept late. Too late. Less than
fifteen minutes remained before the curse hit.
“Shit! Damn! Fuck!” She cursed as she
hopped out of his bed and scrambled around looking for clothes. It didn’t even
occur to her to stay in his room for her fiery act. She wanted the comfort of
her home, her space when it happened. She also wouldn’t have minded Remy’s
arms, and that simple thought halted her frenzied actions.
The man who held me all night long, and
caressed me with such passion wouldn’t leave me alone with the hour of my death
approaching unless he had very good cause.
Or so she hoped. For some reason it was important to her
that he not turn out to be a jerk like most males she’d encountered. But if she
believed he wouldn’t leave her alone for her daily brush with fire, then where
was he? Did he simply linger elsewhere in what appeared from the outside as a
huge manor? If she left would she miss him as he returned to her?
Indecision didn’t sit well with her, and
neither did bursting into flame in an unknown place. He’d know where to find
her if he wanted to, and she was a big girl. So what if today’s torture would
last one more hellish minute? Her original death lasted an eternity in her
agonized mind, and yet she survived, of a sorts.
Locating the tattered remains of her
ruined clothes – a reminder of their impatience and passion the night
before – she ditched them in favor of something more functional. She
pulled on a shirt of his that she located hanging over a chair, biting her lip
against the soft pleasure that wanted to relax her as his scent enveloped her.
Slipping her feet in to her shoes, which
survived somehow despite their frantic trek to his bed – and the episode
where he pounded into her missionary style while she dug the heels into his
back – she bent over to buckle the clasps only to hear an amused feminine
voice say, “Did panties go out of style while I vacationed?”
Whipping upright, Ysabel regarded the
stranger who’d entered. Tall, with a shapely figure, red hued skin, bright
yellow eyes, and a pair of horns projecting from her ash blonde hair, the older
woman arched a brow at Ysabel’s perusal. Then shocked the wits of out her when
she reached under her voluminous skirts and emerged with a bright purple pair
of underpants.
Flinging them to the side, the obviously
deranged woman grinned. “That’s better. I won’t have it said that I’m not
sticking with current trends.”
Blinking in shock, it took Ysabel a
moment to speak. “I’m sorry. But who are you?”
“I’m the mother of the boy you screwed
last night.”
“Mother?” Ysabel almost choked on the
word. Great. Just great. Caught by Remy’s mama. Exactly how to handle this? The
last mother she’d interacted with didn’t handle her involvement with her son
very well. How would this one react?
“Yes. I’m that darling boy’s mother. Took
me three days to birth his fat head. You should keep that in mind when you
decide to get pregnant. My poor cunny was never the same after.”
“Pregnant?” she squeaked. Ysabel sat down
hard on the edge of the bed. “No. I’m afraid you have this wrong. Remy and I
aren’t together. And I am most definitely not going to get pregnant with his
child.” Or so she hoped. She’d completely forgotten to take any precautions the
previous night. The realization made her head swim.
“I thought Lucifer banned birth control?
Sentimental guy he is, all about family. And rebuilding his army.”
“Not with a child of my loins he’s not,”
she retorted.
“Don’t be so hasty to speak. I know you
had sex. I can smell it all over you and this room. With my son I might add.
Which, if his swimmers are anything like his father’s, would make him the
daddy, unless you let him finish off inside another body part?”
Oh, she so wasn’t having this
conversation. “I think I should go.”
Remy’s mother flung her arms across the
doorframe, blocking the way out. “No. You can’t leave. We’ve not finished
bonding!”
“I’m really confused.” And she was. What
was up with his mother and her crazy act? Perhaps it was a ploy to get rid of
her before Remy returned. In that case, she’d happily oblige before things got
even stranger.
“Confused? So am I most of the time.” The
matron grinned showing off sharp teeth. “But, my first shrink said it’s just because
I take things too literally. Of course, I thought he meant that as an insult,
and now feel kind of bad in retrospect for taking his head off and kicking it
around his office. However, my second shrink, who’s much better at explaining
things, says I can forgive myself, because of my insanity.”
“I see,” Ysabel replied faintly, still
bewildered and now really worried.
“So, when’s the wedding? Or are you going
to live in sin? I know Lucifer would love that. My baby boy finally involved in
a serious relationship. And it didn’t even take Hell freezing over again for it
to happen.”
Married? “Oh, no. We’re not a couple.” At
the matron’s pointed look, Ysabel actually blushed. “Well, we kind of are, but
it’s just because we’re working together. Once we capture some missing souls,
our job will be done and Remy will probably move on to the next lucky girl.”
Who might end up missing a few toes – among other body parts – as
Ysabel consoled herself over the loss.
“Denial! I love it. Reminds me of when I
met dear old Jacko. It took him tying me to a bed and sexually torturing me for
days before I’d admit I cared for him. And he hardly misses the finger I bit
off at all. Best days of my life.”
Did Remy’s mother not grasp the concept
of too much information? “I am not in denial. Remy and I aren’t settling down
together and we’re not a couple. It was just sex. You’re his mother. You know
he beds a different girl just about every night.”
A cunning look came into her eyes. “Yes.
But he never brings them home.”
“What?” There came that lightheadedness
again.
“My Remy is a lady’s man. Cute bugger
gets that from his human father. A dear man that one, but so fragile. What a
shame. At least he died with a smile on his face. But I’m getting off track. As
I was saying, Remy might fornicate like a bunny on Viagra, but he never, ever
brings girls home. The only time I meet his slags is when he invites me to
lunch and gets me to scare off the clingy ones. So, the fact you’re here, in
his bedroom, must mean you’re special.”
“I’m getting a headache.” Bending her
head, Ysabel clutched at her skull, the conversation so completely nuts, she
didn’t even know how to respond anymore. One thing though kept repeating in her
head.
I’m the first girl he’s brought home?
Surely not. And what did it
mean? Nothing. Something. Oh, thinking about it just made the turmoil in her
mind worse. And time wasted.
Oh no. Jumping up, she scanned the clock
and her breath left in a whoosh. It was time for her torture. She peeked down
at her toes to see them intact. Wiggled them, but didn’t feel a tingle. Could
the clock be wrong?
“Excuse me, what time –”
“What’s burning? Do you smell that?”
Whipping around, Remy’s mother barreled out the door, and unease gripping her,
Ysabel followed. Down she went, feet clattering on staircases that wound and
ended in blanks walls, forcing her to hop over the railing to where they
started again. She barely kept the older female demon in sight as she raced,
skirts billowing until they entered a cavern, heavy with smoke and filled with a
familiar stench of burning flesh.
It took Ysabel a moment to grasp the
situation, to recognize the burning pyre. Remy’s mother understood right away.
“My baby’s on fire!” she screamed.
And so he was. Every inch of Remy danced
with flames, but he should have been immune. He was part fire demon, however,
despite his heritage, she could see the agony by the rictus on his face and the
way he clamped his lips tight. He didn’t let out a sound, but she could
recognize the pain in the way he held himself, and as realization struck her,
she sank to her knees with a whispered, “No. Oh no. Why, Remy? Why?”
As fantastical as it seemed, he’d taken
over her punishment, and she knew who to blame for that.
* * *
Lucifer whistled as he signed off on a
bunch of sell-my-soul-for-riches requests. Business boomed. People damned
themselves by the thousands. His golf game had vastly improved, meaning his
match later that week with his brother stood a chance. Especially if he
cheated.
Nothing could bring him down. He was on
top of his world.
“I demand you give me back my curse!”
yelled a witch who really needed a man to teach her some manners.
Putting his quill down, he tented his
fingers. “Can’t. Remy bought it fair and square. One hundred years of service
in my army. Iron clad agreement signed in blood.”
“Rip it up.”
Peering at her as she stood before him
dressed in a man’s shirt that hit her about mid-thigh, her hair tousled and
lips swollen, Lucifer grinned. “I see someone got lucky.”
“Yes, I had sex. It was great. Can we get
back the point? I want you to cancel the contract. Give me back my curse.”
“Why would I do that? Shouldn’t you be
happy you’re not going to suffer anymore? I thought he was crazy myself taking
it on, especially knowing he wouldn’t have his usual fire demon protection to
ease the pain. But, you must have done him good.” Lucifer wiggled his brows,
but Ysabel, lacking a sense of humor, scowled.
“It’s my curse. I’m the one who should
suffer. Not him.”
“Too late. But, really, if it upsets you
that much, just find the last two missing souls. Once they’re vanquished back
to the pit, loverboy stops smelling like roasted venison each day, and our
contract with each other will be done.”