Page 62 of Demon Loved
“Now, I want to watch you change for me.”
I bite my lip and stumble dazedly to the bed. Zolroth has laid out a short, electric blue dress for me that will make my eyes pop and contrast my pink locks. Paired with the dress are some black pantyhose with seams up the back. And…no bra or panties.
“He forgot some—”
“He didn’t forget. Now change.”
Oh.
Why is it I was totally okay stripping for Van just a few hours ago, but now, I feel totally intimidated about doing the same for Raz? It’s not like he hasn’t seen me naked. It’s not like his mouth hasn’t been all over my body…
“Do you need help, princess?” a surly voice whispers at my ear, and I realize that he’s come up behind me.
I nod, and suddenly, all thought flees from me. I turn into a thudding pulse, a pulsing heat, a heated glow as Raz gently takes everything off of me. When I’m naked, he turns me around and has me sit on the bed as he rolls the pantyhose up my legs, his rough fingers scratchy, even through the silky material.
His breathing grows shallower.
So does mine.
But once my pantyhose are on, he slides the dress down over my head and buttons it at the back. Then he slides on my shoes, before holding out a hand. “Come on, baby girl.”
I want to stomp my foot. I want to throw a fit. I want to call Jason in here and have him gnaw on Raz’s hand. Where’s my orgasm?
Raz grins. “I can see the brat in you surfacing.” He smacks my ass lightly. “Well, this is what you get when you don’t play with me.” He grabs my hand this time, instead of letting me choose to reach for him. He pulls me towards the door. “If you’re a good girl, then maybe I’ll play with you later.”
I swallow hard and nod, even though he can’t see it. Because I desperately want what he’s offering. It isn’t until I’m in the van and we’re halfway to the other demon murder’s place that I realize…I don’t know what being a “good girl” means to a demon. Does it actually mean bad? Fuck! I have no clue. I just know that I super desperately,absolutely mustfind out.
* * *
I’m laughingmy ass off, slightly tipsy off some moonshine, as Dajiel, the lust demon, tells us about this human girl he’s “converting.”
“Oh yeah, she likes some kinky-ass shit! The other day, she wanted to cage my dick. Literally. She had a cock cage, but it was literally for something the size of my middle finger. She couldn’t even get it on me.” He shakes his finger like a teacher scolding a student. “The monster cannot be caged or tamed!” He stands from his armchair and waggles his crotch while he growls.
Another round of laughter ensues.
We’re settled in their posh living room, marble all around us, eating Cheetos like the stains won’t matter if they touch a couch that I’m pretty certain cost more than most people’s cars.
“Monster, please!” Arariel scoffs, a wave of scorn coming from her and affecting all of us before she can rein it in. “Oops. Sorry, everyone. I’m super drunk!” Her declaration is followed by a giggle that makes her dark wings shake.
All the demons have reverted to their natural forms. It’s funny, but now that I’m used to it, I almost like my guys better this way. They’re more relaxed when they can stretch their wings. I love to watch their asses when they fly back and forth to the kitchen for more beer, like Kastros is doing now.
I’m sitting on Akor’s lap as he feeds me Cheetos like they’re a delicacy. I think he really just wants to watch me suck the cheese off his fingers, though.
To my surprise, it isn’t Raz who turns the conversation from silly to business. It’s Kastros. He uses demon sign language to ask a question.
“What did he say?” I whisper to Akor.
“He told them we need to know the weaknesses surrounding Heaven’s castle.”
“Why?” Arariel’s voice is so sharp, I nearly jump off Akor’s lap. But, as a scorn demon, I’ve come to expect the unexpected from her. Nice is a challenge for her, just as much as confrontational is for me. She can totally do it, and has done it for my sake, but tonight, I feel like she’s gotten comfortable enough around me to let her more abrasive side show.
“They are keeping something in the castle that we need,” Raz says, not going into detail.
Wallim, the rage demon, who tonight apparently wears his own skin instead of an illusion provided by Tatrys—Wallim’s a huge black man with a shaved head and horns that look sharp enough to slice me open—growls, “That’s not good enough.”
Tatrys stretches lazily on the couch. Tonight, he looks like some K-pop star from BTS, though honestly, all those guys look the same to me. He insists he’s the hottest one, that apparently drives half the world mad with lust. Not my type. I like muscles and stuff. He rolls onto his side and sings, “I’m so sick of this Fake Love, Fake Love…”
Wallim rolls his eyes, and one of his wings juts out, smacking Tatrys in the face and muffling him. “Knock it off.” Wallim turns to us, pursing his lips. “What is it you want?”
