Page 46 of Demon Loved
“Akor…” Katrina’s soft voice has me lowering my gaze down to hers.
“Yes, sweet cherry pie?”
“Why are we slow dancing?” she whispers, casting a glance in both directions at the gnats who stare at us.
I smile darkly at her, lifting her hand in the air to give her a twirl before pulling her tight against my chest. Her breath hitches, red splotches appearing on her cheeks, and I feel myself fall even more in love with her, if that’s even possible.
I swear she makes me craz—
Wait. I’m already crazy.
More crazy?
That sounds about right. I swear that girl makes me even more crazy than I already am.
Katrina gasps suddenly, and I peel my eyes from hers to see that Zolroth has returned, his muscular body pressed against her back. I smirk at him wickedly over her shoulder and waggle my eyebrows suggestively.
It’s totally bro code for,let’s take this party upstairs and fuck our Center until she sees stars.And then, because I’m a sadistic jackass, I’ll mail Raz her soaking wet panties. Since the mail system sucks, they probably won’t arrive for a few days, but I can just see the look on his face when—
Katrina moans again as her hands extend upwards to twine around the back of Zolroth’s neck. I’m pretty sure she’s not even aware she’s doing it. Everything inside of her is demanding to get even closer to her mates.
This new position pushes up her breasts, and I lower my gaze to her nipples I can see poking through her shirt. Did my little cherry forgo a bra today? Fuck, that thought makes me so incredibly hard…and then I turn murderous when I think about any of these other assholes seeing her pretty pink nipples, even with her shirt obscuring them. I’m a possessive asshole, and no one outside of my murder is allowed to see, touch, or even speak to Katrina. Especially if said person has a rocket launcher (or is it a dangling ding-dong?).
Note to self—look up how the “cool kids” refer to a cock.
I move my body forward so we’re effectively caging Katrina between us. My mind conjures up other thoughts, dirtier thoughts, and my cock becomes so incredibly hard, I’m afraid I might actually die.
When I close my eyes, I can envision Katrina lying between the two of us as my cock pounds in and out of her tight hole. Zolroth will be paying attention to those pretty breasts—
“Katrina! You came!” a high-pitched voice squeals from behind me. I bite my lip to contain my growl as flames enter Katrina’s cheeks and she automatically stops dancing, her teeth nibbling on her plush lower lip.
Her friend—what was her name again? Brittany? Sugar? Pine tree?—scurries forward, dragging her boyfriend behind her. David. Fucking David. I don’t like the fact that he’s been sniffing around my girl. It makes me stabby, and no one likes it when I’m stabby. Hell, I don’t even like it, and I’m the one doing the stabbing.
“I told you I would,” Katrina says as she untangles herself from me and Zolroth. I really, really don’t like that. At all. Especially when she leans forward to give first Booty and then David a hug.
I really need to remember that girl’s name.
Zolroth growls low in his throat, and Katrina, getting the hint, steps away from David as if her ass is on fire. It may not be on fire, but it will be burning from my hand if she doesn’t back the fuck away from that asshole. I’ll never hurt my mate, but a nice spanking here and there? While my fingers scissor inside of her sweet cunt?
I actually might come in my pants. That’ll be fucking embarrassing.
Butters—still don’t remember her name—is talking excitedly about this and that. Honestly, I drowned her out long ago. But damn, that girl can talk.
“Stacy—” Katrina interrupts with a wry smirk. Stacy! That’s her name! Sherlock Akor Holmes for the win.
“And who is this handsome man?” Stacy flutters her eyelashes up at me, and I try to decide if I need to call the human emergency services. Obviously, this poor girl is seizing, and I know my cherry will be sad if she dies. Curse me for having a thing called a conscience.
“This is Akor,” Katrina introduces, though there’s something odd about her tone. I might be mistaken—I usually am when it concerns human emotions—but she almost sounds jealous.
What the fucking hell does my cherry have to be jealous of?
Stacy blushes as she takes a step closer to me, ignoring the daggers David hurls at her back.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Akor,” she greets in a low voice. Is she constipated? I heard that happens to humans. I wonder if Katrina ever got constipated before. Maybe I can ask—
“We should get going.” David tugs on her arm, attempting to pull her away, and Stacy pushes her lips out in a pout.
“All right.” She waves a hand in the air dismissively. To Katrina, she says, “I’ll talk to you later?”
