Page 171 of Devil Inside

I want to taste it all.

Lilith finds my cock, full now. She takes hold of the shaft, hand rising, sliding up and down, before guiding me inside her. Once I’m within her, her back arches. She curls away. The gasp that escapes her mouth is abrupt, followed by a moan, and I suddenly wonder if she’s releasing herself, the demon within, spilling out from her mouth and into the air.

She’s facing the ceiling, bending even further. How her spine doesn’t snap is a mystery. Her shoulders shudder, swaying up and down, as if she’s shaking something off.

It’s an exaltation. The spirit has entered her body.

Lilith returns to me, spine tightening, a near snap in her back like a whip crack, as she wraps one arm around my shoulders and starts to ride. Her hips find a steady rhythm, slow at first, methodical, exploring the parameters of our union, feeling me inside.

Her eyes are closed. She’s losing herself within.

When they open, her eyes find me.

Look at her. The ecstasy of saints.

Lilith gasps and I inhale along with her. Our breath syncopates, a locomotive huff. Her hips pick up their pace, more forceful now, grinding now, as she lapses backward, her body bending away from me, spine arching over until her breasts reach the summit of herself, this monument of her body, and I am worshipping it, worshipping her, sacrificing myself.

Her eyes roll back. The irises are long gone. I’m left with nothing but white. Her mouth hangs open, gasping for air that isn’t there.

I merely watch on, terrified and tantalized and utterly consumed by it all.

I’m about to lose control. Let go. Release myself.

Not yet. Not now. I need to witness this transformation. This vulgar display.

I see Lilith rise. The flesh distorts, no longer bound by the laws of our bodies, our skin. She is rising, lifting herself and me along with it. We are no longer servants to gravity. To God. To heaven or hell. It’s just us now, us here, our bodies merging, communing as one.

I feel her slip inside me.

It’s subtle at first. A soft pressure within me. Then it grows. The pressure mounts, the very presence of—of whatever this is—as if something were expanding, swelling inside.

An aneurysm. A haunting. A knife. My insides shift, making room.

For her. For Lilith.

Forever Lilith.

I find fresh chambers to fill. New cavities to inhabit. I want to permeate him. Occupy all he has to offer, every inch of his existence. I want to fill him up to the brim, until we spill.

We want to consume him. Guzzle it all. Blood from the goblet of his body.

We grip onto his skin and hold on. Take control and ride, ride like we are still on his bike, taking on this city, finding that steep hill and plunging.

We squeeze, constricting, tightening around his member. Then we release just as quickly, the tension relenting in our thighs, letting go for just a moment, an aching breath, desperate for air. Suffocating ourselves. We can’t find enough air to breathe. To live.

We pull Jordan into us, as close as we can. Closer. There can’t be any boundaries between us. Any borders to separate one from the other. Not our bodies, not our flesh.

Our darkness. Our evil.

We tighten once again. Every muscle within our body coils, squeezes. Just as we sense that we are on the verge of climax, the overwhelming flame spreading, fire everywhere, burning throughout our body, the blaze consuming, the tension ebbing, everything slipping.

I let go. Release myself from my host.

Let me in...

I pour into him. I unspool, a serpent unwinding itself around its suffocated prey, and find a fresh chasm to inhabit, flooding into Jordan. His body below.

His flesh is a vessel and I fill every inch. I give him everything, all of me.