Page 5 of Married to the Devil

He’s a friend. Sort of. A friend who planned the wedding that altered my life and included sentimental flowers.

“He’s not my lover,” I say. “Never has been.”

Stoneheart’s eyes glint in disbelief, but my irritation is stalled by his mouth switching to my other breast.

The growl that rumbles from him feels possessive and something else I can’t identify. The sound rattles my core. The swollen, empty feeling there intensifies, and the wetness brimming spills from me suddenly.

Shock has my thighs attempting to snap together, but his thick body between them stops the action.

“What was that?” I gasp out. It feels silly to ask, but his kisses aren’t distracting me this time. My body is very clearly doingsomethingwhen he growls.

His grin is sharp and satisfied. The light catches his fangs, and I shiver. “Biology,wife. You’re my mate and are responding as such.”

He releases another throbbing growl as if to demonstrate, and I squirm and whimper. The need flaring inside me at the sound is insistent. Not quite to the point of pain but approaching it.

The awareness that he can manipulate me so easily is alarming, but my hunger smooths over the reaction.

Stoneheart goes back to sucking on my nipple like it’s a candy-covered treat, and I gasp. My hands slide to either side of his head, skimming over the cold rings in his ears on my way to dig my fingers into his hair. I catch the hint of something heady from the metal, but my husband makes a disgruntled sound. His wing talons capture my wrists and bring them up over my head, trapping them there.

I pull instinctually against the grip but can’t break free.

A fang runs over the sensitized skin of my breast and causes me to still on a shiver.

“Are you okay with restraints?” Stoneheart checks in with me. His breath curls over my heaving flesh, distracting me.

“I don’t know,” I gasp. Too riled up to reflect. Ineedto be filled. My hips move on their own, grinding against his torso. The talons release my wrists, the sudden disappointment stings and gives insight. “I think I’m good with being restrained.”

But the grip doesn’t return. Instead, his gaze meets mine. “Keep your arms up.”

I swallow and grip the duvet dutifully. His eyes flash with a gratifying lust as the movement makes the tips of my nipples rise, and he dives back into the process oftaking his prize.

The bite of his teeth around my nipple has lashes falling and my breath stuttering.

“Fuck!” I moan, forgetting my intention to keep my language “ladylike.”

I grind against his chest with more intention, trying to get any friction against the liquid need. I could probably come like this.

As if reading my mind, Stoneheart travels down my body, licking my skin all the way like he’s starving, and my flavor is ambrosia. He reaches my pussy and pauses. The warmth of his breath through the tiny lace thong has me mewling for mercy.

I’m so needy and saturated with his attention at the same time. The response of my body from his growls not having abated any. His sharp claws pull against the string of the panties. I make a sound of relief when the elastic gives way.

“Is this what your greedy cunt needs?” he asks a breath away from it.

I burn, his words an accelerant and irritant. “It would also like a cock inside it, but sure, we can start here.”

So much for keeping the crassness out of my language.

He chuckles, and I’m about to release the duvet and yank the gargoyle by the horns where I need him, but heat engulfs me. My eyes roll back, and I push against his mouth. Any shyness that existed is gone.

Stoneheart growls, his fingers dig into the flesh of my hips and pull me up. He skips any tentative licks and goes straight to eating me, sucking my arousal from each lip of my pussy before spearing me with that long tongue.

I cry out at the writhing invasion, the tight grip he has on me keeps me right where he wants me, unable to escape from or run toward the sensations. I tighten around his tongue as it pressesdeepdevouring all the arousal he’s inflicted on me as we both groan.

“Stoneheart—” I gasp and break off before starting again. “Remy,” I breathe, having never called him by his first name before. “Please!”

His eyes darken, and his tongue slides from me. He rakes his teeth over my inner thigh as if in punishment just as something pointed and smooth presses inside. Not a finger, but the end of histail. My husband moves to sucking on my clit, and my body doesn’t care which appendage of his is curling inside me.

I shatter. The orgasm is a hot flicking rush. He doesn’t keep the stimulation going to prolong or press the climax higher.

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