Page 26 of Bargain with the Demon King
"Let's find out," suggests Lady Morinth, her pets watching with dead eyes from their knees.
Azzaron continues his calculated assault on my composure, fingers ghosting higher, teasing the edge of the fabric that barely covers me.
"Look how she melts," someone observes—a younger demon trying to impress his elders. "Completely lost to it. Mortals really are weak."
"Mortals have such responsive bodies," Azzaron agrees, his fingers sliding higher, ghosting over the fabric covering my sex. The first direct touch makes my hips jerk. "Every touch overwhelms them. They're not built for demon pleasures."
I bite my lip hard enough to taste copper, trying to stay quiet, but when his finger presses directly against my clit, thethin, wet fabric becomes an instrument of exquisite friction. A moan tears from my throat, real and unstoppable. My hips move without permission, seeking more of that perfect, terrible pressure, and the watching demons eat it up.
"Please," I whisper, not sure if I'm begging him to stop or continue. My fingers dig into his thighs, nails pressing through fabric.
"Such a good girl," he murmurs, loud enough for others to hear. "So eager to please me. Show them how well you've learned your place."
His finger circles with practiced precision, pressure perfect and terrible. The fabric provides just enough friction to drive me insane, and I realize with crystal clarity that he's going to make me come. Here. In front of everyone. The thought should repulse me, but my body is already climbing toward that edge, urged on by skilled touches and the dark thrill of being watched.
Around us, the demons place bets. Lord Vex wagers I'll last another minute. Lady Morinth says thirty seconds. Someone suggests I'll pass out. The casual cruelty of it should hurt, but I'm too lost in sensation to care.
"That's it," Azzaron encourages, voice rough with something that sounds real beneath the performance. "Show them who you belong to."
His fingers move faster, the fabric growing wet under his touch, and I'm helpless against the building pressure. The sound of demon laughter, the wet sounds of others using their humans, the scrape of claws on crystal—it all fades to background noise. All that exists is his touch and the inevitable fall approaching.
When he presses harder, circles tighter, adds the smallest scrape of claw through fabric, I shatter.
The orgasm crashes through me in front of the entire demon court. I cry out—loud, broken, his name on my lips—body shaking in his lap as waves of pleasure roll through me. My back arches completely, head thrown back, and I'm dimly aware of applause, laughter, Lord Vex collecting his winnings.
When I finally still, boneless against him, the room has gone quiet. There's a different energy now—not just amusement but something sharper. Danger.
I force my eyes open and freeze.
Azzaron's beast form bleeds through the cracks in his control. His skin ripples wrong, muscles reshaping with the wet, grinding sound of bones cracking and resetting. His breathing is no longer human, but a low, guttural rasp that seems to come from a chest cavity too large for his body. His horns are longer, sharper, twisting back from his skull. His eyes blaze pure gold, the black completely consumed. The hand on my thigh now has claws that pierce the fabric, drawing tiny beads of blood.
"Mine," he says, and it's not human anymore. Layers of voice, demon and beast and something older. The sound vibrates through my bones. "She is mine completely. Anyone who doubts that, anyone who tests that, will decorate my walls."
The threat hangs heavy. Several demons actually step back. Lord Vex's smile dies. Lady Morinth pulls her pets closer, suddenly protective.
"The entertainment is over." He stands, lifting me with him. My legs won't support me—they're liquid, useless—so he simply carries me, one arm under my knees, the other around my back. "We're leaving."
No one argues. No one speaks. They just watch as the Demon King carries his thoroughly claimed mortal from the hall.
The corridors blur past. I bury my face against his chest, unable to process what just happened. The humiliation burns,but worse is the truth underneath—I wanted it. Wanted him. Wanted them all to see that I'm his. Chad would never claim me so publicly, so thoroughly. He introduces me as his "friend" to avoid awkward questions.
"I'm sorry," Azzaron says once we're away from the hall. His voice sounds more human now, though I can still hear the beast underneath. "That went further than intended."
"Did it?" My voice comes out rough, raw from crying out. "Or was that exactly what you planned?"
He's quiet for a moment. "You played the part perfectly."
"I wasn't playing at the end."
"I know."
We reach our chambers, and he sets me down carefully. My legs shake but hold. The torn fabric hangs off me now, ruined by his claws, and I pull it tighter around myself. There are tiny cuts on my thigh where he gripped too hard, already healing from residual demon magic.
"They'll leave you alone now," he says. "No one will dare touch you after that display."
"Because I'm your toy."
"Because you're mine." He steps closer, and I see his beast still fighting for control, making his form flicker between man and monster. His voice does that layering thing again. "And I protect what's mine with everything I have."
