Page 17 of Guardian

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Zoltan rode the female demon hard. He had her bent over his desk in his study, her cargo pants down to her ankles, her ass bare, while he gripped her hips with both hands and slammed into her from behind. His pants were shoved to mid-thigh, just enough to give his cock and balls sufficient room to do the deed. This wasn’t a romantic assignation, but a need he had to satisfy. There were always plenty of female demons willing to offer their services to him. After all, he was the Great One, and if they pleased him, he might even take one of them to his bed and favor her with more than just a quick fuck. Or he might not.

He pounded into the willing flesh, tuning out the sounds coming from the woman’s lips, moans he knew were faked, and concentrated only on himself, his needs, his desires, his goals. Nobody else counted. Everybody else was expendable. Replaceable. Just like the woman at the end of his thrusting cock. He looked down at her, gazed at her long blond hair. Hers was straight, but he remembered a woman with curls, no, not curls, but braids, though he assumed once untied the hair was curly.

A loud knock on the door stopped his mind from pursuing the road he was on.

“What?” he yelled toward the door.

“Urgent news.” It was Yannick, the demon responsible for all vortex circles in the Underworld, and thus the one who knew of all comings and goings.

Goddamn it!

Zoltan delivered two more thrusts, and with the second one, shot his semen into the blond woman. Then he withdrew and pulled his pants up. Not giving the woman any time to get dressed, he called out, “Come in, Yannick.”

The door opened immediately. Yannick stepped in, while Zoltan zipped up and closed the button of his pants. The female grunted in displeasure at the interruption and hastily pulled her pants over her ass, but not before Yannick had gotten an eyeful.

“Off you go,” Zoltan ordered and motioned to the door.

Scowling, she scampered away, and Zoltan made a mental note never to ask for her company again. Her attitude didn’t please him.

Once the woman was out of earshot, he asked, “What news?”

“News from the group you sent to find the psychic.”

“Ah, excellent!” His day was looking up.

Yannick cleared his throat. “Uh…”

Narrowing his eyes, Zoltan looked at him. He could see it in Yannick’s demeanor. The news wasn’t good. “Fuck!”

“One of them came back,” Yannick offered and motioned to the door.

“Who?”

“Colton, oh Great One.”

Zoltan glared into the dark corridor behind Yannick. “Colton! In here! Now!” Then he glanced at Yannick. “You stay.”

Yannick froze and nodded, while Colton hurried into the room.

“Shut the fucking door!”

Shaking, Colton turned and shut the door, then pivoted to bow. “Oh Great One.”

“Where are the others?”

“Dead. We were ambushed.”

Zoltan narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Ambushed?”

“By the Stealth Guardians. They were lying in wait for us when we got to the psychic’s house. We never had a chance.” Colton dropped his head.

“Elaborate.”

“Uh… the, uh… Stealth Guardians knew we were coming. They were ready to fight.”

“They’re always ready to fight. You probably rolled in like a tank announcing yourselves. No wonder.”