Page 50 of Married to the Devil

Stoneheart makes a sound of approval, and the zipper drags lower. The need prickling across my skin mixes with the metals of his rings as his knuckles coast up my spine.

There’s a flavor to the metals, but my senses are crying out too loudly with the tease for me to decipher them. I’d much rather be tasting other things…

Ben’s gaze follows Stoneheart’s hand as the gargoyle pushes the dress from my shoulders, and it falls to my waist, baring the lace of my nude-colored bra.

I start to shake—in nerves or anticipation I don’t know. Stoneheart’s hand envelopes my fabric-covered breast, and I gasp in dismay at the barrier. I squirm against him, wanting skin against skin.

“Patience,” Stoneheart murmurs as he massages me. His other hand traps me against his body, pressing his palm to my bare torso, talon tips tickling my ribs.

He pinches my nipple through the lace, and I suck in a breath.

“Is this what you’ve imagined doing?” Stoneheart rumbles over my skin, and it takes a moment to realize he’s not speaking to me. “When you’ve thought of touching my wife, is it gentle or hard?”

Ben’s Adam’s apple jumps. “I’m only here to watch over her, not to fantasize.”

I almost despair at the non-answer, but my husband’s touch stirs my arousal with the expertise of a composer over his orchestra.

“Then watch me fuck my wife if you’re so determined to watch over her.” Stoneheart’s dark words are like a whip, they sting as much as tighten the pit in my belly.

As much as I’m cautious of giving myself over to this gargoyle again, when he says things like that and touches me like he’s doing now, his gravity sucks me in. I’d let him fuck me. If he keeps going like this, I’d even beg for it, though I’d be angry with myself in the morning for giving in so easily.

When he touches me, it all feels inevitable.

Ben’s chest rises and falls, each breath greater than the last as if he’s on the edge of drowning. He looks like he’s going to run, but his gaze stays on where Stoneheart kneads my breast. I would never have assumed that I’d enjoy being watched, but when it’s Ben watching me, orfuck, the idea of Stoneheart watching us, the sharp edge of need digs in.

I press my thighs together and falter at the easy wet slide and tug of pleasure in my core. Stoneheart inhales, scenting my arousal.

“Please stay,” I blurt out before breaking on a moan as something tickles my inner thigh and slides against the wet fabric covering my pussy. I glance down to see Stoneheart’s tail disappearing under my dress. I inch my legs a part to let him in, and my head falls back on a shaky sigh at the insistent pressure of it.

I want Stoneheart to growl for me like he’d done the one time we were together, but he doesn’t.

“She’s given you so much, but you won’t even give her what she’s aching for.” Stoneheart’s tone is scathing. Why does he sound angry?

I open my eyes to see Ben. Is he a step closer now? There’s an intensity to his expression that makes my body pulse, and he’s clenching and unclenching his hands as if to reach out andtouch. I’m ready to start begging someone to stop this teasing and take me, but I need more than a quick orgasm. I want this demon who I have feelings for to choose this wild option before us.

I want him to chooseme.

“I’ll do it,” he says, and I nearly cry out in relief.

Instead, I whimper as the gargoyle releases my breast to pull up the skirt of my dress as calmly as one would analyze the quality of curtains rather than exposing the lurid sight of his tail rubbing against my panties. The nude fabric is nearly see-through and clings indecently with how wet I am.

Ben’s eyes drop, and a sound of need escapes his throat.

Stoneheart hums. “Good. Then kneel, demon.”

The gargoyle presses my body to his with the hand on my stomach while his tail leaves my pussy to curl around my knee, pulling my leg up to spread my thighs wide. “Pay homage to our firefly where she needs you most.”

I blink in surprise at the odd endearment, but my focus derails when Ben falls to his knees before me.

“See, kneeling isn’t so bad,” Stoneheart says, and the two of them share a silent conversation before Ben’s hands slide up the back of my calves. He looks up, and my breath catches. The sclera of his eyes has disappeared into black pools.

I’ve never seen him display his otherness before, and to see it now cements the intimacy of this moment.

Ben presses his cheek into my inner thigh, his eyes falling shut. The warmth of his skin against mine is as reverent as the scrape of his stubble. He breathes me in, and I swear his exhale is going to be enough to catapult me into oblivion, but his eyes open, and the darkness through his lashes clutches me.

“It would be wrong of me to admit how much I’ve wanted this,” he says as his fingers trail up my inner thigh. His gaze and gritty words are filled with a fathomless yearning that makes me want to lean in and allow it to devour me.

“If I do, will it ruin the moment?” I ask, half teasing and half just needing him to dosomething. There’s a soft touch at the edge of the fabric keeping his touch from my bare pussy, and I try to grind against it, but the high-handed gargoyle holds me in place. I can barely move in his tight grip.

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