Page 6 of A Discovery of Demonology

Heat curled in my belly as my sex clenched, uncaring of propriety or decency. What the hell was happening to me? I wasn’t this brazen, emboldened nymphomaniac. Sure, I liked having filthy sex and never allowed the world to judge me for my more sinister kinks.

It was the age of monster smut, after all, and immoral desires were in these days. Sex was no longer held to the high standards of society’s decree or wedlock. It wasn’t just between a man and a woman. Shit, I’d been the center of an orgy a time or two, and hadn’t given two filthy shits if someone snapped a few dirty pictures while I’d been in the throes of coming and had hands fondling and petting every sinful inch of me.

“Don’t assume you know what I can handle, Teivel,” I shot back, and his nostrils flared as if he could smell my state of arousal. “I’m a grown-ass woman, one who isn’t afraid of her overcharged libido or sexuality.” Smiling at the hooded look on his darkening face, I turned to stare back out at the moonlit countryside. “But I am impressed by the fact that you mixed vetiver with bergamot. From the balance of their scents, it’s clear you were aware of it becoming an aphrodisiac but mindful enough not to end up smelling like cat piss. Most people learn of its unique properties and overuse it, which does the exact opposite of what they intended it to do.”

“Your grandmother sells only the best tonics and elixirs in her shop. If she didn’t, she’d be dead by now.” Whipping my head toward his smug, arrogant face, I glowered.

“Are you threatening my grandmother?” The men snickered behind me.

“I don’t threaten anyone. If they piss me off, I simply handle them accordingly. Unfortunately, the Bishop bloodline has had immunity from me because they have something I want, but I’ll get it eventually, one way or another.”

“And what is it you want?” I asked, barely concealing my curiosity.

“Something that was stolen from me a very long time ago. I intend to get it back, and if I don’t, the consequences will be disastrous for everyone involved.”

Blinking slowly, I tried not to get annoyed by his ambiguous answer. Still, the meaning was clear enough. “It sounds like a threat,darling.”

I’d added a sultry tone as he turned onto the road leading toward Witchery Hollow. Moments later, we pulled up to the impressive gate blocking a gated neighborhood. At the far end of the long driveway beyond the gate, there was a mansion with immense columns and a wraparound porch. If I squinted, I could make out several men decked-out in black fatigues standing sentry.

“Get out,” he snapped, and when I reached for the door handle, he grabbed my bicep. “Not you, Bishop. The rest of you, go. Moira and I are going to have a conversation before I drop her off. I’ll return once we’ve concluded our talk.” The men snickered before exiting the car and moving to the gate before it swung open, allowing Rowan to drive through.

The car shot forward, but Rowan’s expression turned dark as his body tensed. He was staying at the Gowdie Estate? I’d often snuck onto the estate to pilfer herbs from the extensive, overgrown gardens. It was less than a mile from the Bishop Estate, which bordered the land of several of the older, more prominent families living in Witchery Hollow. Not that all of us were in the same mountain range. Some had distanced themselves from others over time while some left Witchery Hollow altogether.

“You’re staying at the Gowdie Estate?” I asked softly as he passed the road that would lead to grandmother’s gated drive. “You missed the driveway for my house.”

Rowan turned down the old creek road and slowed to a crawl before he turned to face me. “I’m aware. Get out of the car,” he demanded.

My heartbeat thumped against my ribcage so hard I was convinced it would bruise. Fear shot through me as he put the vehicle in park, even as I floundered for what to do. My lips parted to speak, but the door was yanked open, and I was pulled from the car before I realized he’d even exited the vehicle. A startled cry left my lips as he pushed me against the door and palmed my throat, forcing me to look up at him.

“I don’t like being fucked with,” he growled while his darkening gaze plunged to my lips.

“I’m not the asshole who started it, am I?” I demanded as my chest heaved with anticipation and fear roiling through me.

What the hell was I doing? There was nothing I wanted more right at this moment, then to be bent over the hood of his car, and railed until I howled at the moon like a bitch in heat.

“What’s the matter, Rowan? Don’t like it when a woman plays a man’s game?” I was taunting him, which he didn’t like if the tightening of his hand against my throat was anything to go off of.

My eyes grew heavily hooded at the silent threat and power he held with it there. I was playing with fire, and praying to get burned by it.

“Yeah, most men don’t seem to like it when the bitch fights back. And I do, and I play dirty because I’m not ashamed of being filthy.”

“Is that so?” His voice was a rumble of sound that scraped over my nipples before twisting around my clit.

If sex had a voice, it would be whispered words in the same primal, masculine noise he’d just made. Wickedly dark promises of filthy intentions that would devour you as it railed your naked body into a pile of sated bliss.

“Be honest with me, Bishop. Would you let me bend your lithe body over the hood, then fuck your needy cunt while those titties are cleaning the bug guts from my grill?”

Talk about a mood killer! Rowan had destroyed my fantasy at the mention of bugs. But he’d driven the nail home in the coffin atguts. Swallowing down the bravado, I snorted.

“You’re not some backwoods country slut who’d want that sort of shit. You’re more of a flower in the meadow, with the moonlight bathing your naked flesh in its pale light. And damn, you’d be so pretty with that light, shimmering hair fanning out beneath you as your legs are draped over my shoulders, as I’m feasting gluttonously on your wet, pink cunt.” His eyes sparkled with amusement as the air escaped my lungs on a whisper of sound. “Don’t worry, I’d be certain to fuck your body ruthlessly into the dirt until we were both filthy and covered in mud from sweating while we rutted like wild animals beneath the moon.”

“I . . . You’re . . . very . . .” Words failed to come to mind with the way my body erupted with affirmation that he’d pegged me correctly. I wanted filthy, deplorable sex. Absolutely, but I was also a lady who wanted some romance tossed in, no matter how haphazardly it was added.

“Don’t like it when a man isn’t afraid to call you out on your shit? I promise you, I’m man enough to call your bluff, darling. You like baiting men, but you’re not willing to give up your worth for a quick fuck. I commend you for it, but I’m entitled to be enraged and hate myself for not being low enough to take what you’re offering me. The thought of fucking your naked, wet cunt and getting off is so bloody tempting. But then you’d pull up those pretty pink panties and fuck off into that mansion of yours. My come would trickle down your thighs like a cold reminder of how I’d used your body like some easy pussy, and you’d fucking hate me before you ever reached the shower. Because that’s how shit works out when lust consumes humans and they act like animals. You don’t even know if I actually want you, or if I am merely interested in the easy pussy at hand.”

My hand moved before my brain registered what he’d stated. The loud sound of my palm colliding against his cheek was startling in the eerily silent night. His hold on my throat tightened as he slowly turned back with murderous rage simmering in his mercury-colored depths.

His hand tightened on my throat before I was jerked forward toward his body, before then being forced back against the side of the car.

---