Page 54 of Monsters After Dark

“No, no, no,” she pleaded, the words falling from her lips with shaky breaths. “Not two.”

It has to be two.

“Why? Why is any of this—”

We both want to fuck you. We both need to breed you. The voice paused, and she could hear the smirk lacing his words. We won’t go there tonight. Tonight, we breed. That means…

He trailed off, vanishing from her mind. Then he lowered her, and his cocks slid in the lingering wetness of her earlier arousal, but with no insistence. He caressed the front of her body, tweaking her nipples and sighing in pleasure as he did so. Eventually, his touch made it between her thighs. He shoved two clawed fingers into her heat, making her flinch and freeze at the same time. Though they slipped into her easily, she held her breath in fear of the damage the sharp edges could cause. She felt only the slight thickness of them, however, working in and out. He separated his fingers within her, as if testing her or stretching her. She realized what he meant to do, but she couldn’t think of it—she refused to. Any moment now, she’d wake up.

Her hips had their own motivation, though. They rocked and rode his fingers, and she bit her lower lip to keep from making a sound of anticipation. She bit until she bled.

Then his fingers were gone, and he reached between their bodies to grip both cocks. He brought them to her entrance and prodded. She almost wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. It wouldn’t work. He couldn’t… She couldn’t…

He pistoned upward, and the stinging sensation of being stretched wide had her gasping and cold. He released her arms and she fell farther onto his cocks, unsupported by his strength. She couldn’t think through the pain, only cry out with each breath as she tried, but failed to lift her body from his. He held her hips and forced his way deeper, invading and crowding her pussy.

At first, everything was too tight. She could feel his struggle, and she gritted her teeth as he tried to move in and out, only to seem stuck. He curled over her writhing body and sank his teeth into the slope of her neck. The new sensation helped distract her. He grabbed her breast again and fondled it roughly. It took her a moment to realize he meant to give her some pleasure in the hopes that it would relax her. But there was no relaxing; her muscles had seized around him, yet still he sought to cram himself into her.

While he rolled her nipple between two fingers, he used his free hand to grasp one of hers. He led it between her thighs and forcefully rubbed her hand over her pussy. He couldn’t rub her clit himself, she realized—not with those claws. She didn’t want to aid him, yet she wanted the pain to subside.

Farrah closed her eyes and slid her fingertips up and down her folds to collect her slick arousal before drawing them to her clit. She bit her tongue and concentrated on that, and on his hands, both of which now massaged her breasts.

It occurred to her that if he were truly a monster, he wouldn’t bother softening her up. Surely a demon cared nothing about tearing into her flesh to gain his pleasure. What did it mean that he’d rather coax her to relax?

The thought gave her pause, but only briefly, as his caresses sank through her defenses. The heat of their bodies flowed like a blanket over her, soothing her. Her inner walls relaxed as her pleasure grew, and he drove in deeper, but the pain was a distant ache now.

She leaned back against him as he flicked his tongue over her neck. His rumble was pleasant and satisfied, and she matched it with a soft moan.

Soon he was thrusting deep and hard, each cock pulsating within Farrah and jolting her senses. She felt full to bursting, and when the twin tips reached her end, her walls spasmed and sent an instant, overwhelming climax through her. She rode the waves of euphoria as he fucked her, his intensity increasing until she heard the wet sounds of flesh slapping flesh.

She came down from her bliss, only to be met with an insatiable desire for more. She placed her hands over his where he touched her breasts, and he understood her intention, removing his hands to allow her to touch herself. Instead he clutched her waist and pistoned himself up and up, until his every stroke slammed into the end of her channel.

The sensation was a chaotic blend that left Farrah lightheaded and delirious, as if she were stuck on a continuous orgasm. Her body cramped and convulsed against his plundering cocks, and she welcomed them still. As it went on, her head rolled back against him and she ceased to think or care about anything but the pleasure. She could feel him cresting too, feel the muscles of his arms tighten, his torso flexing against her back. She nearly begged for him to finish, not because she wanted it to end, but because she wanted to feel his climax. One of his hands came up and wrapped around her throat, not cutting off her air completely, but enough that the tension heightened her pleasure.

Holding her there, he froze at the height of a devastating thrust. His cocks pulsed and throbbed, and he groaned above her ear. His chest heaved as he panted. Farrah had no energy to react except to lean harder against him, barely able to keep herself upright.

Then he relaxed his grip, and they sat together in silence as the world continued to flicker with distant lights and moving shadows. He lifted her from his lap and lay her on the ground on her back. Farrah simply breathed and kept her eyes closed, recovering, as she heard and felt him moving around her. She didn’t stir until he lifted her again.

Smooth skin rubbed against hers, startling her. Stranger still was the way he touched her with care and gentleness. She was cradled against a pale, warm chest, and she was almost afraid to look up and see the demon’s new face. She had a suspicion. Her breathing quickened, and the scent of peppery cologne lingered in the air—a scent she knew too well.

With his thumb, he stroked her cheek. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “I could barely…”

The voice struck her. She dared herself to look up, and there he was, no longer the demon, but her lover. The shock of seeing him now left her speechless for a moment. Her thoughts conflicted, and she had trouble pulling anything together over the steady flow of heat and pleasure from his touch. It was like rising above quicksand, but she eventually did it.

“Nathan,” she rasped.

He nodded.

Tears filled her vision, blurring her vision of him—her fiancé, Nathan, killed a year ago this month, just weeks before their wedding.

“Is this a trick?” She shook her head. “Please don’t play games with me.”

“No game.” He bent down and kissed her. His kiss was gentle and familiar, and heartbreaking. Their tongues entwined, and he tasted like he always had, sweet and masculine. It was as if no time had passed. As if he’d never died and left her.

“How?” she asked when he pulled away. She cupped his smooth, warm jaw, a part of her not believing that what she touched was real.

“You wished for me. Over and over.” He looked around them where the hellscape continued to flicker. “It reached me when your grief was winning out.”

“I don’t understand.”

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