Page 35 of Letters to Satan

With a shout, I bury myself as I let go, gasping in relief as the tension wrings itself from my muscles. My hand squeezes over his neck, feeling the pulses of my cock as my cum floods his throat. His name becomes a chant as I thrust forward, trying to get even deeper, until the table scrapes over the floor with the power of my thrusts.

His hips are lifting off the tabletop again, desperate and ready to blow. Once the final waves of my orgasm fade into aftershocks, I pull out and he fills his lungs with a drawn-out gasp. Tears and spit streak his cheeks, his skin is flushed and angry, and his lips are swollen with droplets of cum leaking from the corners.

“Wrecked for me… so fucking beautiful this way,” I whisper, rubbing my hand down his filthy face as he stares at me, adoring. “You just sit right there, sweet boy.”

Circling the table, I grasp his legs and drag him to the far side, licking him clean and savoring the taste of his release while he struggles to push deeper into my mouth. “Watching you come like that? The way you lose control is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” I murmur as I tease him.

“Please, Nik,” he whines, his voice throaty and used. “I can’t take any more… just give me what I need.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” I say, holding his eyes while I drop my head, taking him all the way to the base. He whimpers, a hand threading into my hair, then gives a single pump into my mouth. Another thrust and a loud, pleading moan tears its way from his throat, and his knees lift, the bottoms of his feet landing on the table. I suck harder as he thrusts with more power, his tail thrashing as he fucks into my mouth.

“Daddy, please… please, Daddy, please,” he whimpers, his entire body quivering as his knees fall apart, hips tensing as his mouth hangs open in a silent shout. The base of his cock thumps against my lips as he spills over my tongue, gasping and moaning as his thighs quiver and shake.

When his body slacks against the table, I suck up and off his cock and let it land on his stomach. I hover over him with my hands on either side of his head, and his sated, hooded eyes cause my heart to thunder inside my chest. It’s like we don’t even need words as he parts his lips, ready and waiting as his cum slides from my mouth, dripping onto his tongue in a creamy puddle.

“Good boy,” I whisper, watching his tongue swirl his release, holding it for me obediently until I press my lips to his. I kissing him lazily, like we have all the time in the world, as both of our pulses slow. I pull back and rest my forehead against his, terrifying, forbidden thoughts racing through my head. “Come on,” I say, voice rough, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

Chapter 12

Damien

The days blend one into the next, a filmstrip of memories and experiences flashing on a reel fast enough that I can no longer distinguish between them. Any denial that I’m neglecting my duties has long since gone out the window.Neglectingis an awfully loose term for the way I’m pretending to be nothing more than a bedwhore for Nik, but I suppose it works as good as any.

No, I’ve been having a grand old time, hiding from Xalreth so I don’t have to listen to his accusations. “You’ve forgottenyour purpose in coming here, Lucifer,” and “We cannot continue to waste time here when the realm needs you, Lucifer.”

And the fact that those comments are true? Neither here nor there, I assure you.

Every night, my desire to return home shrinks, and my longing to stay intensifies. Niklaus’s stress grows more and more by the hour, and the guilt that swarms inside me might as well be the size of a mountain from how it weighs me down.

An unprecedented, unfamiliar sensation has crept over me until it is all-consuming. It’s sticky, and uncomfortable, and I don’t have the first clue what to do about it.

I want to… h… h…

Gods, I can’t even say it.

Help.

I cringe at the mere thought of it, but I’ve moved past the stage of denial and am settling—very hesitantly, might I add, with lots of appropriately panicked kicking and screaming—into acceptance. The initial glee that came from my rebellious group of Hellves and our sex toy workshop has darkened and twisted, turning into absolute shame for the grief I’m causing Niklaus.

We spend hours every night wrapped up in each other, both of us indulging in the rare moments where we get to pretend the rest of the world isn’t crashing down around us. Admissions pass from his lips to my ears, voicing that his biggest fear is missing his Christmas Eve deadline. A fear that is coming to life right before both our eyes.

Seven days.

A mere week exists to uncover a solution. Only I don’t have to search for the problem.

Iamthe problem.

He just doesn’t know it.

The nervous energy in my mind searches for an outlet, and I find myself wringing my hands as I step into the workshop. The Hellves are hard at work, the room almost overflowing in the products they’ve spent the past week creating. “There you are!” Jujube shouts, clearly blind to visual cues as he runs over to my side. “We need to discuss implementation.”

“Implementation?” I echo, glancing at him in question.

He nods enthusiastically, gesturing around the room like a tiny Vanna White… Vanna Slight, perhaps. “We will have to figure out the best way to load these into Santa’s sack…” I mentally give myself a pat on the back for not evenconsideringletting that chortle leave my throat. “… before he leaves on Christmas Eve. Only a few elves are allowed in the loading area, much less to touch the sack…” Another subdued laugh gets squashed in my mouth.

I’m the Devil.

Sue me for finding balls funny.

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