Page 55 of Chained to the Devil's Daughter

His cockhead popped past the band of muscle. I cried out. If I could roll my clit against the suede, I could—

“Fuck no you don’t,” he growled, taking hold of my thighs and dragging me back, simultaneously carving himself a path deeper into my ass.

“Oh, gods, rings, oh, flames, rings, Ash!” I babbled, my hands clawing at the tufted corners of the ottoman as he began to rock.

“You’re gonna take my cock in this peachy ass, Firefly, and think of all the seed you’ve wasted by being so thoughtless.”

The jerk was even using his demonic hooked feet to keep from allowing his balls to smack my pussy, knowing even that might make me lose myself.

“Oh, please, please, please!”

Tears prickled as he dragged out of my ass, and I could feel every fucking ridge and vein of his enormous cock. He slammed back inside, his knot almost kissing my sobbing pussy, his ball sackalmostslapping my clit.

“You naughty little slut. You—unnff—you’re going to take my load in this dark hole and learn your fucking lesson.”

Ash’ren brutally pounded into my ass. My fingernails dug into the bench, the fabric below my cheek dampening with silent tears. It was so good, so fucking good, I only needed one flaming touchthere.

“Be a good love bug and come for me,” he commanded. “Come for me while I use your tight little asshole.”

“Oh, Ash, please!”

I couldn’t possibly! He draped over my back to cup my left breast, which hung heavily over the ottoman from how I was curled to the side, desperate to watch. He pinched and rolled my nipple as he stuffed my ass over and over, my pussy clenching around humid air until he finally allowed his hips to tilt in a way thatslappedhis balls against my neglected entrance. I came with a lurch as he dumped his load deep in my guts.

Breathing heavily, Ash’ren pressed sloppy kisses along my neck that sent tingles chasing the waves of my orgasm.

“That’ll teach you,” he panted against the shell of my ear.

“Will it, though?”

He laughed but didn’t waste any more of our time, carrying me to the bath to clean me up while I fought to regain control of my lungs.

“I’m gonna get you back for that, you know,” I grumbled as I put on my day clothes.

“Oh, I know,” he winked.

29

Ash’ren

Carts full of shoes arrived, courtesy of Searra’s previous suitor. I helped pass them out, feigning ignorance at the way so many peered at me with barely concealed terror.

The number of people living with phantom burns was larger than I could’ve conceived. More inconceivable was the assistance offered by a few nobles, including the daughter of Fervis, Demon Lord of Ring Five, where bones of the Forgotten were ground to dust for use as raw material. Overseeing the mills, the sleazebucket could cut that shit with whatever the fuck he wished. Having zero interest in the tangled webs of noble houses, I gave the woman a wide berth.

Hopefully, the shoes would slow the reappearance of the phantom burns in people who’d already healed once. Something about these cases irritated me. Fucking sus. The oldest demon I found was a wealth of help.

“Rot’s a problem. Always. Humans? Fucked. Fucks ‘em all tha way up.” He’d then made a slicing motion at his throat.

Along with shoes, Filaris had provided the weapons I’d requested. After the carts of footwear were all distributed, I met up with three of my top-performing newbie warriors. Jadan, a fire-wielding human from Ring Five with the build of a demonand the heart of a gryffion. Kien, who, despite his mother’s vehement resistance, had ascended to a leadership role among his peers. And Razgard, an imposing demon at a staggering eight-foot-two, whose human husband was also among our ranks. They’d all been instructed to bring along a handful of troops.

We met on the eastern curve of Ring Seven, our fledgling military’s hub ever since clearing the Firefolk. Far enough from the inner rings and close enough to the pleasures of Ring Six, where northernmost taverns that used to sell disgusting toilet swill were now upgrading their wares.

“What’s the word, Sir Boss?” Razgard asked. I cast an unamused glare all the way up at the cheeky demon, one of few to never use my infamous nickname, instead opting forbossuntil Searra’s courtship granted me a higher station.

“Are the hiltens here?” Kien rubbed his palms together.

I nodded and produced four of the weapons from my pack. “Now the true training begins.”

The group inspected the new instrument with keen interest, tilting it this way and that, holding it in one hand, then the other, then both. The weapon in question didn’t look like much of anything. As its name implied, it was a hilt. That’s all. A hilt made of petrified magma, with a leather grip. Mass-produced and uninteresting.

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