Page 5 of I Accidentally Summoned a Demon Boyfriend

“God,” I said and then squealed as he flipped me over and fucked me so good, that at one point, I swear, I forgot the lord’s name.

2

Too much wine

The lazy smile stretched across my face as I awakened to a warm sensation over the length of my back. My first thought was this was the body heat of a big sexy man lying next to me. My second thought was, “Get real, girl. The only man you have is the one in your dreams.” What should have been a gentle return to consciousness was a series of sharp sensations that made me want to shove my head under the damn bed. Why the hell did I drink so much wine, knowing damn well anything over two glasses gave me the worst damn headache? I tried sitting up, but my head felt like water circling the drain.

With the bright sunlight pouring into the room, there was no way I was going to get over the mind splitting pain. The first thing I had to do was close the damn curtains. The second thing was to find the pain killers, guzzle some water, and go back to bed.

“Alright, girl,” I muttered to hype myself up to trek across the room. Damn me for wanting a large master suite that put my window a nauseating ten feet from my bed. It was only me in the damn house. I didn’t need that much space. “You can do this. Just a few measly tasks, and then back to bed.”

I took a deep breath and then rocked my way out of the bed and onto my feet. The moment my feet touched the floor, I gasped as the throbbing soreness between my legs kicked in.

“What the hell?” I pressed my hand against my pussy to ease the pain. “My period just ended. I know damn well it ain’t coming back again.”

But then, I realized this wasn’t period pain. No, this was something else. It’d been so long since I’d had sex that I hardly remembered what the aftermath felt like—the wobbly legs, the remnant throbbing, the need to pee!

I’d had dreams that felt real before, but this was another level entirely.

“No dream is that good,” I muttered, and despite the mysterious discomfort lingering between my legs, I focused on the goal. Close the damn curtains. I wrapped the sheet around my naked body and forced myself to move.

Moving like a calf fresh out the coochie, I’d just about made it to the window when my knee slammed against the edge of the decorative table I’d sworn a hundred times to get rid of. Damn me for accepting the eyesore just because my friend got it for me. I loved Nevia, but her taste was terrible.

The thing was a pepto pink, with blue and green stones down each curved leg. The top was a mosaic stone with unfinished edges that had left several marks on my knee. It clashed with everything in my house, so I hid it in the bedroom where no one could see it. At least with the dark blue accent wall, it didn’t look as terrible. That’s what I told myself, anyway. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings by tossing it in the storage closet. People pleasing only hurts the one doing the pleasing.

“Son of a bitch!” I cursed and jumped back on unsteady legs, which landed me flat on my ass. “Ouch!”

“Are you always this clumsy?” the deep voice spoke, and I froze. It sounded familiar, but I didn’t know why. No matter how familiar it was, no one was supposed to be in my damn house.

Not only was there an intruder in my home, but they’d made themselves comfortable and apparently had the audacity to comment on how clumsy I was. Fear and anger were all I needed to force the effects of the hangover to the side. I sprang to my feet and snatched the closest thing I could find to defend myself: a calf-high boot with a chunky heel.

Sure, the boot may have done some damage, but I could hardly think of ways to wield it after seeing who was in my home. I turned around, and there, in all his glory, with his dark, purplish-black skin, was the damn demon from my dream. Instinct told me a lot of things—run, get a better weapon, puke—but what I did was scream. The loudest, gut-churning scream I’d ever produced in my life. If I’d ever cared to make friends with any of my neighbors, one of them might have come running to check on me.

And then, flashes of the dream returned. Images of me jumping into his arms, pressing my tits in his face, and holding onto his horns while riding him were sharp reminders of what I’d done. I slapped my hand over my mouth to cut the sound and then over my pussy as I recalled him prepping me for his tool.

“That was a dream.” I shook my head and whispered to myself. “This must still be a dream. You’re not real. I’m still dreaming. How much wine did I drink?”

“You’re not dreaming.” His words cut down any hope I had of explaining away what I hoped was a fucked-upside effect of drinking too much wine. “You called me here, and I came.”

“Called you here? I didn’t call you here!” I thought through the night before. “I went out, came home, drank, danced, and then-”

“Then what?” he asked.

“The book. Oh shit. I read the spell from that book, but that was fake. Not real!” I dropped my hands to my side, and the boot smacked against my calf. “There is no way any of that really happened. I’m dreaming. I have to be!”

“I don’t know how many times you’re going to make me say this, but you are not dreaming.” He crossed his arms, and those plump lips twisted with his frown.

“Oh yeah, the hell I am.” I pointed at him with the boot. “Because if I’m not, you’re really a demon. A demon I summoned with a made-up spell and then had wild and unusual sex with.”

“That part is true.” He nodded, and the collar of his black button-up shirt shifted around his neck, revealing more of his purply black skin.

“This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. You aren’t real!” I screamed, waving the boot in the air.

“I can assure you, I am,” he grunted. “And yelling that I’m not, won’t change that fact.”

Determined to prove him wrong, I chucked the boot at him, using his horns as targets, and it made a satisfying yet terrifying thud as it hit him on the head. I swear, I expected it to fly right through him, that his body would just fade away like in the movies. That didn’t happen. There was no cool effect or relief to come with the realization that I just had an overactive imagination.

“Why would you do that?” He rubbed the side of his head, and his face turned into a mask of annoyance punctuated by his furrowed brow.

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