Page 97 of Married to the Devil

Ben jolts at Stoneheart’s use of his surname, but it cements my certainty. This gargoyle is holding back with the both of us.

I’m so busy decoding him that it takes a moment for the words to sink in.

I flip the hair out of my face and purse my lips, clinging to some semblance of control even with Stoneheart’s manhandling. “I’m not one for orgasm denial.”

“You’ll suffer through if you want to feel your demon inside of you. To have his cock stretch and prepare you to take me.”

I frown, but Stoneheart continues.

“If it gets too much, say red.” His smile is sly and full of fang. “But we both know you won’t. You don’t want to be coddled.”

It’s annoying when he’s right. I lift my chin to the two of them and sit up. My toes curl at the sensation of the velvet blanket under my bare ass.

“You want me to fuck her? Don’t you think that’s risky with the charm being off?” Ben asks, averting his eyes like he’s still on the edge of leaving.

Stoneheart shrugs like his own body isn’t tight with need. “Gargoyles are more fertile than demons as a rule.” Mischief flashes in his eyes. “And you’re good at not coming when you’re told.”

Ben shudders at the reminder of the first time his body joined mine, and I bite my lip.

“Please, Ben,” I say. I want him to stay and play this game with us. I want as much of him as he’s willing to give.

It takes a moment, but Ben nods and unbuttons his shirt in efficient movements. I move to meet him on the edge of the bed. The darkness in his gaze spreads as it runs over my body.

He’s never seen me nude. The instinct to curl my legs up and hide my bare body from him is second nature, but he catches my ankle, halting me.

“Don’t hide. You’re a thing of beauty. Let me see you like this,” he says, and I freeze. Ben releases my ankle, stroking the skin there before he finishes removing his shirt.

The touch and sight distract me from the insecurity that he’ll find me lacking now that he’s seen all of me. Or at the very least not worth the drama of being involved with Stoneheart.

Fuck. The lines of Ben’s body are sharp and strong. My eyes run down the lines of his chest, until they reach where his pants are still in place. His cock is hard against the material, and I can’t stop the soft rock of my hips, trying to appease the liquid desire brimming over.

“You want her ready to take you?” Ben asks Stoneheart, like we’re in a business negotiation.

“And begging to come,” Stoneheart adds, nearing within a step of us.

Ben grips behind my knees and pulls my thighs wide. I don’t think to tense before he’s kneeling on the floor at the edge of the bed, bringing his face close to my pussy.

I start to argue, needing to be filled, but cut off on a curse when his mouth descends to my wet core. I slam my eyes shut, and my back arches on the bed. The blare of pleasure on my already primed senses is a ragged sound that I echo with my voice.

The hot tongue licking through my folds doesn’t detract from talon tipped finger threading through my hair before gripping me. My eyes snap open to Stoneheart’s satisfied face.

“Eyes open, wife. You don’t want to miss any of this,” he says.

The sight of Ben devouring me while Stoneheart watches is almost too much. My lower belly clenches as my hips grind into Ben’s face.

Ben lashes his tongue deep inside me and the roiling pressure that gathered when I begged them to put a baby inside of me nearly breaks through.

Stoneheart makes a sound, and Ben pulls away.

“No!” I choke and try to grab hold of the demon between my legs, but Stoneheart keeps his grip on my hair, keeping me from doing anything more than writhe.

“So sensitive. You almost already came,” Stoneheart admonishes.

I’m gasping when I look up at my husband, eyes wide, ready to beg, but he’s having none of my expression.

“You can take more,” he says. “Don’t shorten our fun because of your impatience.”

I whimper at a touch to my inner thigh and glance down. Ben watches me with a teasing gleam in his eyes. His lips kiss the tender skin there, and the extra stimulation is not helping.

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