Page 19 of Chained to the Devil's Daughter

“Rings, you’re cocky, aren’t you?” I said with a burst of laughter, pushing past the smug demon.

Arms wrapped around me, hauling me back until I collided with his broad chest. His breath was warm on the shell of my ear, followed by a long lick of his forked tongue. A straining erection pressed hot against my spine.

“You tell me.”

The heat in my cheeks had nothing to do with the wildfire surrounding us as he nipped my earlobe and backed away, his hand finding mine again. He walked backward into the clearing with a smolder to put the woods to shame.

“Why yes, that’s definitely a cock. I think.” I pursed my lips, feigning innocence. “I’m not versed in that area.”

Ash’ren snorted. He stopped short and yanked, so I smacked hard against his boulder-like torso. Black flames bled from his lascivious grin.

“I could teach you a few verses, princess.” His wide body swallowed mine, his voice a murmur against my skin. “But I’d rather hear you sing.”

My breath shuddered, my legs magically transforming into noodles when his tongue connected with the column of my neck. His hand snaked into my hair and tugged my braids where they connected to scalp. I moaned like an inexperienced maiden when he forced my head back and ravaged my mouth with that flames-damned forked tongue.

Oh, rings, I couldn’t stand with these blasted noodles for legs! I stumbled and he pressed forward. Tree bark scratched through my linen gown. His intimidating form pressed harder, trapping me, but escaping was nowhere on my mind. My jaw slackened, wanting his tongue deeper, wanting to taste any inch of his body that he was willing to feed me.

Frantic, my groping hands found purchase on his tight rear, and I was living for the guttural groan it pulled from his throat. A thick thigh shoved between mine. I fussed with my skirts, needing his skin on mine, seeking to soothe my aching clit with the friction his thigh promised.

“Firefly.” There was desperation in his tone. I wasn’t the only one struggling to breathe. “I want to respect your wishes, but. . .”

“Hmm?” Lost in the heat, my fettuccine leg lifted itself around his hips and jerked. His stiff length crashed against my burning core.

“Searra!”

His panic gave me pause and I forced my consciousness to tether within my horny brain. Respect? I didn’t want his respect. I wanted him to use me, to slam me against the itchy tree trunk by my neck and fuck me like a dirty secret. To shove his tail so deep down my throat I cried while he fucked my poor asshole as my pussy begged and begged to sleeve his ribbed cock.

But those weren’t the wishes he wanted to respect. We’d agreed to take things slow. His dripping black pupils swirled with barely contained rapture, promising me mind-bending pleasure.

The moment froze around us like the caps of ice that sealed the dormant volcanoes between Fyre and Hydra. Ash’ren’s muscles were so taut, that a single breath of encouragement would tip his scales. With one simple nod, he’d be buried so deep inside me I’d feel ropes of cum all the way in my lungs.

I wanted it. I wanted it so blazing badly, but the dark shadow in my heart reminded me of all the ways I differed from the Searra in his memories. I couldn’t risk allowing him to feel he was tricked into loving a ghost.

I broke our gaze and released my grip on the finest ass in Hell.

A whoosh of air breezed over my head. Ash’ren’s body relaxed. I started to apologize, but he was already holding me close, peppering my widow’s peak with gentle kisses.

“Dance with me, princess.”

He scooped me into his arms, smiled brightly as though nothing had happened, and carried me over a patch of warm-hued flames into the clearing. When he gently let me down, brown leaves with amethyst veins crinkled under my boots. He bowed with a dramatic flourish, and I matched his energy with an exaggerated curtsy.

We held each other tightly but without urgency, our hands loosely clasped. Our bodies fell into step with the Flamewoods’ chorus, the three of us speaking a language soul-deep in our bones. Deep, rolling toad calls played bass, while crickets chirped tenor, and the blazing trees provided an ambiance of crackling firewood.

We must’ve been swaying around the dry patch of land for a while because other night creatures went about their businesswith barely a glance our way. Salamanders with minty flames scurried over rocks. The first fyrefly of the night zoomed by, the turquoise flame on its tiny booty sparking and disappearing in a flash.

A vital piece of myself slammed into place. I was whole.

“Ash?”

“Yes, glow worm?”

I hadn’t meant to say his name. There was too much to say, none of it enough. Too much time between us and none at all.

I stayed silent, and he seemed to understand. He kissed the top of my head, and the very landscape came alive. Mauve flames six inches high circled us, casting his brick red skin in violet, his conduit lines a transfixing gold. The very land of Fyre was granting us its blessing.

I burst into giggles.

“Do you remember—” I started, but his rumbling laugh cut me short.

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