Page 53 of The Devil and His Goddess

I didn’t stop the up and down stroke of my cock, even as I slowly peeled my eyes open to look up at Dante and Xander, who stood just inside my music room.

“I got it,” I answered breathlessly as I neared my breaking point.

“Hurry,” Xander complained, running a hand over some music sheets on the table next to him. “We have errands to run. If you’re horny, we can find some humans to fuck with after we’re done.”

The only human I had an interest in fucking with was currently at home, probably lamenting over the panic of nearly being caught in public with me. Just remembering how good it felt to have my fingers buried in her sweet pussy or how her tongue felt sliding over mine sent me hurtling over the edge. I came hard, the hot substance coating my fingers and pants.

“Great,” Xander chirped sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. “You finished. Let’s go now.”

Dante handed me some tissues wordlessly as I passed a look between my two band mates.

“Go where?” I asked.

“We have to get suits for this stupid press stunt, remember?” Dante grumbled, crossing his muscled arms over his chest.

I finished cleaning up and tucked myself away as I remembered the upcoming event. This Friday, the band was going out to some treatment facility that Iyla’s little sister was a patient at. While the five of us band members were demons, that didn’t make everything about existing in the human world easier.

Exhibit A—social media.

Zagan, like the rest of us, was famous, and he’d been spotted multiple times in the public with Iyla. Our fans ran wild with the sightings and spun a narrative that Zagan was “cheating” on them by having this secret relationship with her.

Both suggestions were ludicrous, but they were rumors nonetheless. To do some damage control, our group had to pose for some choice photos and appear at the health facility to disperse the talk of a relationship in favor of Zagan simply helping a fan and her sick sister.

With a sigh, I stood up. “Fine. But I’m good on the fucking after.”

Xander and Dante both stared at me like I’d grown a second head. They exchanged a look only for Dante to place a hand on my shoulder and ask, “Are you sick?”

I shrugged his hand off with a chuckle. “Don’t be dumb. You know we can’t get sick. I’m just not feeling up to it.”

“You were just jerking off,” Xander argued with a narrowing of his eyes.

I couldn’t dispute that, so instead, I ignored him. “Are we going to get suits or not?”

The two looked like they wanted to argue some more but, thankfully, they didn’t. With a quick step through shadows, we appeared in New York and left my Harper-saturated thoughts behind.

THE LARGE ROOM BUSTLED WITH life, which was interesting considering so much sickness filled it. Kids and teens with varying illnesses, injuries, and ailments gathered in the dimly lit room with their families. I couldn’t believe how many fans we had among this demographic, but I treated them as sweetly as I would any other fan.

Minus the flirting and seductive charm.

I finished greeting another horde of teenage girls and downed an entire plastic cup of unsweetened lemonade. The lifeless flavor didn’t do anything to alleviate the edge I’d had all week.

Silverlight had finished its first full week of rehearsals and prep for both upcoming productions, and I’d been managing both shows and their respective dancers. There was so much behind the scenes work that went into getting a ballet ready for the stage, and that didn’t leave me near as much time to see Harper as I would’ve liked.

The moments I did see her though were … interesting.

Harper had been avoiding me.

The day following our nearly fucking in an alley, I thought I was imagining things when Harper suddenly left a room that I entered at work. When I caught her squinting at me from across a room only to whip around and pretend I wasn’t there, I thought I was making something out of nothing. Every time we made eye contact that shedidn’tavoid, her gaze would turn both appreciative and studious, which I found odd. Again, I figured I was reading too much into it.

But the next day, too?

And thenext?

By the time today came and I’d only gotten a handful of words from her—all of which ended withsir—I was positive that it wasn’t all in my head.

She’d seemingly been searching me cautiously from a distance, looking for some answer. While it could’ve been her searching for the courage to give into her desires, I had a feeling it was something else entirely.

I saw that window poster she’d been staring at when I showed up masked on Monday night. Our band poster did me no favors in concealing my identity when I visited her while disguised.

---