Page 17 of Beneath Hoof and Hollow
“What was that?”
“Have you never had a tongue in your cunt before?”
She gasps. “You have a tongue? No. No, you have no head. You have no mouth.”
I lick her again. This time she whimpers. Goosebumps rise along every inch of exposed skin. “Wrong, sweet nightingale. I have a tongue. I have a mouth. I have a head. My curse? That my body, face, identity were shrouded from sight.”
Her voice is heavy with confusion and need. “You’re saying, you have a head. But it’s invisible?”
“Not just my head.” I raise a hand up high and remove a single glove.
“You have no hands either?”
“You’re not listening.”
“Wha—” she cuts off. I press two fingers between her now-wet folds. She moans, a throaty, lust-filled, desperate sound.
“Does it feel like I have no hands?” My fingers work her pussy, stroking and teasing. When her mouth falls open again, I return my own mouth between her thighs to steal another taste. Her clit throbs subtly beneath the tip of my tongue.
“Ah!” she cries out. “Your tongue? You would put your tongue down there? That’s lewd, demon. It’s, I’ve never, you shouldn’t, oh…” Her objections become long, breathy moans as I drag the tip over her sensitive nub in a serpentine motion. My fingers curl, seeking Emeline’s sweet spot.
So, I am the first to eat my sweet nightingale’s cunt. I very much like that revelation.
As she edges closer to climax, her body writhes, moving wildly. My other arm pins her hips to the ground. She releasesquick, repetitive whimpers, some of them soft cries of ecstasy, others literal sobs as I work every inch of her.
The sounds culminate into a single scream of pleasure as she orgasms. Her walls squeeze my fingers, muscles taut with release.If she’s this tight around my fingers… The blood already rushing to my cock intensifies, making it throb mercilessly.
I’mthankful it was a beautiful woman who brought me back and not some old witch or warlock. Not the religious figure who summoned Itrimort. Sating my needs in exchange for help would have been off the table. In fact, I’ve never exchanged sexual favors before. This summoner was too divinely exquisite to pass up the chance.
Emeline’s body softens. The night is cool but sweat coats the skin of my yellow-haired maiden. She cannot see my face, so she does not see my fingers dip between my lips to clean off every taste of her.
Tied up and helpless is a dangerously alluring look on her. She can’t rise, can’t fight me off without her hands. If I chose, I could slide my cock down her throat, fuck her until the scarecrow’s pole cracks behind her neck. I seriously consider it.
She gazes up at me, a strangely contented look that none proffer while in my terrifying presence. Instead, I praise her as I untie her from the scarecrow’s pole. “You did well.”
She melts, sliding to the ground. “What demon magic was that?” Her panting is most endearing. I did all the work. Still, she collapses, lying flat on her back. “My abdomen. It cramped, or some strange sensation…” The right words do not come. Her thighs rub together and I can imagine she’s replaying the memory of her climax. My grin spreads. She’s never come before, either.
“Twas no magic. Mortals can make those things happen, too.”
She scoffs. “That simply cannot be true.”
“Oh, the things I can do to you, Emeline. Like I said, a taste was required for me and a taste is what was given to you. There is much, much more where that came from.”
Crimson crawls up her neck and those hazel eyes stare up at me, glazed with desire. “You are not headless. Just invisible.”
“Correct.” I slide my glove back on.
“I can only see your body becauseyou’rewearing clothes. If you wore a hood or hat—” She struggles to get up, rolling to her side before pushing into a seated position.
“You would see my head, yes. But I do not wish to hide behind clothes. I desire a visible body and head. That is what you will give to me next.”
“First you will help me. You gave your word.”
“I did. Bring me those you wish to see punished and I will keep my word.”
She frowns. “It’s late into the night.”
“Are there not men guarding the border of the woods?” It’s a rhetorical question. I can sense them, their energy pulsing just beyond the tree line.
