Page 50 of Higher Demon

Marc turns to look at me again, his face flushed, pupils wide, hair ruffled. “Come, grubby human.”

I explode.

When I can breathe again, I find myself draped over Marc’s back. It can’t have been too long, because I’m still a little hard in him and he hasn’t shoved me away yet. Carefully, I pull out, my gaze catching on the incredibly fucking hot way my cum seeps down his thigh. Swallowing as my dick stirs, I flop sideways onto the length of the couch.

A second later, Marc hovers over me. “Well done,” he murmurs. “Who would have thought you had that in you?”

“Asshole.”

“Yes, I’m going to give it some special attention now.” He leans in to plant a kiss on my mouth. I think it was supposed to be a short one, but somehow our lips cling together, and when he finally does move away, we’re both panting.

He hooks my right knee over the back of the couch, and I obligingly let my left leg fall open and rest my head back against the cushions. I’m relaxed and boneless in the way only a really good orgasm can do, which should make it easier for him to do me with his baseball bat. Although… “I need lube, man.”

The snick of the cap on the lube bottle is his response. “I know. Don’t worry, Ian. I won’t damage you. A broken toy can’t be played with.”

A shiver races through me. I shouldn’t like it so much when he says shit like that, but I do.

Cool lube dribbles over my crack, and I watch with half-closed eyes as Marc pours more onto his dick. It’s hard and flushed dark red—almost purple—and thick enough to make me want to squirm. He strokes it firmly, covering it with lube from base to tip, while the fingers of his other hand trace around my pucker. One slips inside, testing, but I’m blissed out enough to take it easily.

Another joins it, stretching me, opening me up for him, and I enjoy the sensations. He works me over thoroughly, tapping against my prostate a few times, until the mellow enjoyment becomes sharp need and I’m hard and wanting again.

“Stop playing and fuck me,” I order, and Marc raises a brow.

“Is this the result of a shorter lifespan? The inability to make sex last?”

I growl, but he’s already sliding his fingers out, replacing them with the hard nudge of something wider.

The first inch feels like a fist, and I gasp. Marc pauses. “Do not fucking stop!”

His chuckle only drives me wild.

By the time he’s all the way inside me, I’m stuffed full and a little uncomfortable—but in the best way possible. I squirm, wincing a little, then tell him, “Move.”

“You need?—”

“I need you to move, dammit!”

“Now who’s bossy?” He obeys, though, drawing slowly back and thrusting forward again.

The rhythm he settles into is designed to drive me wild. It’s slow, steady, and forces me to feel every inch of him. A few times he pulls all the way out, just so he can breach my hole again. And he makes sure to hit my prostate every chance he gets, until I’m writhing and muttering, desperate to come again.

“Marc,” I finally whine pathetically. His jaw clenches, and he throws back his head and shoves so deep into me, I’m sure we must fuse together. His O face is porn-worthy, and I can’t hold my own orgasm back.

Later, when he’s collapsed on top of me and my hands are running up and down his sweaty back, I stare at the ceiling and muse that I might have bitten off more than I can chew.

And I’m not upset about it at all.

Chapter20

Marc

“Are there any other questions?”I stare out at the room of hunters and wonder if Ian and I are delusional to believe we can ever make them like me. This is the second Q&A session I’ve done for fully-fledged hunters, and while both have been well-attended and nobody’s been openly hostile, the air of mistrust is… thick.

It’s been nearly two months since I agreed to do this—nearly two months of helping Ian teach annoying teenagers, letting him take photos for social media, and fucking each other blind. He still thinks we’re successfully keeping it a secret, but I’m fairly certain Matt knows. He’s been away on assignments a lot, but the last time he was home, there were a few dirty looks, an edge of suspicion. I don’t know why he hasn’t said anything to Ian yet, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time. Either he knows what we’re doing or he suspects me of doing something heinous, but if that was the case, he would have raised an alarm already. The only reason I can think of for him not calling out a kill team is that he’s protecting Ian. Which means he knows.

Ian refuses to admit that, of course, and any time I bring it up, he distracts me with sex. I never thought I’d be so susceptible to such a simple human temptation, but I am. I’m not even upset about it. How can I be, with Ian to “console” me?

Even now, when we have to be our most circumspect, he’s a reassuring presence at the front of the room. He’s sitting in the first row of chairs, not actively participating but justthere. Officially, he’s acting as my liaison.

---