Page 195 of Evil Hearts

My back arches off the bed, a keening cry falling from my lips. I’ve never made a sound like that before, but I sure as fuck have never been pounded like this before.

Dante growls, pressing his forehead to mine and staring into my eyes whenever I manage to get them open. “You take my cock so well, kitten. This pussy was made for my dick.” His praise makes me burn even hotter. I pant and grind my hips against his, wanting to feel him go harder, even deeper if that is possible.

“Feel so good, so full.” I groan, the pleasure making me claw at the bed above my head. He still hasn’t let go of my hands,even though I wouldn’t do anything but scratch at his back. Apparently he likes having me pinned down exactly where he wants me, and I’m game.

“Good girl, enjoy the feeling,” he says just as something slides between us—the muscled length of his tail slithering its way between my folds and finding my clit with a deadly accuracy.

I cry out, eyes slamming shut and body bucking. Dante just laughs, full-body fucking laughs, and if it weren’t for the way it makes his cock and tail vibrate against me, I would want to claw his eyes out. He picks up the pace, pulling out a little more each time until nothing but the head of his cock remains inside on each withdraw.

The sounds of our skin slapping and our shared moans and grunts fill the room, each little noise raising me higher and higher. His tail curls, rolling around my clit entirely, almost jerking it off, and that it what detonates me.

“Dante!” I cry his name as my body spasms, all my muscles quivering, my pussy milking the shit out of his hard cock. My heart is all fluttery in my chest, like it wants to escape and give itself right to this demon for owning my pussy.

“Fuck, Zenith, good fucking girl,” he moans, rolling his hips to help me ride out the waves of pleasure as they threaten to drag me into unconsciousness. “Mygood girl.”

Date Two

Zenith

It feels almostunfair to be going on this date after what feels like so little sleep. I don’t know when I was in hell until because time doesn’t really work there, but when I woke up in my bed with a note from Dante and an aftercare kit, it was three in the morning. Leander deserves a bit more pep in my step and effort for this date, but he is getting a messy bun, oversized sweater, and leggings vibe instead.

I groan into my coffee cup, slurping the startlingly hot liquid flavored with pumpkin spice. I fucking love a pumpkin spice latte. I check my phone on the table, trying not to get discouraged by Leander being one whole minute late.

He’s probably busy; it’s not like this is that important. I bet he has cool mothperson stuff to do.

The bell above the door rings frantically as Leander bursts in, his jacket halfway hanging off one shoulder and the bag that was obviously slung on that shoulder now acting as a bracelet.

“Zenith! My deepest apologies,” he says, rushing over to the two-person table I claimed for us beside the window. The clouds are heavy and gray, meaning rain is inevitable, but I’m not afraid to get a little wet. I’m not sure how his wings would fare, though.

“Hey, Leander, good of you to show up.” I let a little of my sass bleed into the words.

“I never meant to be late. In fact, I was set to be ten minutes early, but then I was stopped on the street on the way here by someone from my father’s court. I couldn’t exactly tell them to bugger off. There was a lot they needed to fill me in on.” he rambles as he sits down, setting his bag on the table. His soft gray cheeks turn almost purple with a blush. “Again, apologies.”

“It’s fine, prince life, right?” I snicker a little, thinking of the other time in the past twenty-four hours I called someone the prince of something.

“Exactly, but that doesn’t matter. You, Zenith, are what matters most today. I can’t say enough how sorry I am.” He runs a hand through his hair, those long black claws raking through the inky-black strands. He’s weirdly pretty up close.

“It’s fine, really. Just buy me a pastry and we’ll call it even.” I shrug.

“Of course.” There is a little chirp to his words as he stands and makes his way to the order counter. He points into the case multiple times, making wide gestures before he takes a small plate with a cup of espresso on it and joins me.

“That doesn’t look like a croissant,” I tease.

“I special ordered something for you. Don’t worry, it will be right up,” he says with a soft, pleased smile. As he settles, he crosses one leg over the other and takes the espresso cup delicately from the plate. He sips it and sighs. “Good espresso and better company. What better way to begin the day?”

“I could think of at least three better ways,” I grumble. “All of them involving waiting to start the day until afternoon.”

“A night owl then?” he asks tipping his head, those large ruby-colored eyes staring right at me.

I fidget a bit with my cup, chewing on the straw to keep from saying something stupid. It’s hard to read him. Those eyes arebasically one color, so they don’t express a lot, and the soft, grayish-brown downy stuff that covers his skin only turned a little purple when he was really embarrassed.

“You could say that,” I murmur. I tap at my phone screen, pulling up a few of my late-night telescope pictures. “I do some photography, and I like night shots the best.”

Leander leans over, and his eyes widen as they take in the image on my screen. “This is incredible, Zenith. I’m truly amazed by your skill.”

“It’s just the sky.” I blush, pushing down the swell of pride and pleasure his words impart.

“Nonsense, this is fantastic. The clarity and color of each star is unmatched by anything but NASA’s own telescopes,” he goes on, tapping on my screen and going to another shot of the sky, this time with a crescent moon. “Stunning,” he breathes, something like awe weaving into his tone.

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