Page 57 of Infernal Bindings

“God is no longer a part of this.”

His cock expands inside me, thick ridges and bumps hitting me with every stroke. It’s so big—too fucking big. I squeal at the size, and then he hits a particularly sensitive spot, and it’s all I can do not to roll away.

Thick black claws sprout from Daemon’s human fingertips, and his red wings burst free, draping fully across and over the sides of the mattress. “Use your safe gestures if you need them,” Daemon reminds me. “I’m going to let go of your hands now. Don’t put them back unless I tell you to. Do you understand?”

I nod.

Letting go of my wrists, he takes full control of my body. He grabs my hips and slides me up and down his cock like I’m some kind of fleshlight. It shouldn’t turn me on, but fuck, it does. I moan into him and he quickens the pace. His thrusts become choppier, and his hand movements slow down. And then he growls.

A second later, warm cum fills me, and keeps filling me as his entire body shudders. “Fuck, that was good,” Daemon says. Before I can complain that he’s allowed to come but I’m not, something hard presses against my ass—his second cock. Apparently, he can control what demon parts he has and when he has them.

Well, that’s convenient.

As the first cock goes soft, Daemon pulls out of me. Then, he shoves the other one in. I groan at the intrusion, at how stuffed it makes me feel. “I can keep replacing them all night,” he says. “I can fuck you forever without stopping.”

My pussy squeezes at the prospect.

And then he does just that.

“I can’t take much more of this,” I rasp.

We’ve been going at it for hours. Sticky sweat covers every inch of me, and my pussy and clit are so swollen, I think I might actually die. Yet, he hasn’t let me come, not even once. At this point, I think even the lightest touch could push me over the edge, and yet—

“Your pussy isn’t complaining,” Daemon says. He’s on top of me now, slipping his deflating cock free. Warm cum drips down my thighs—there’s so much of it that there’s no chance of holding it in. My pussy flutters at the momentary emptiness, but then, as promised, he fills me up again with the other one, and starts fucking into me for what must be the twelfth time.

Without the necklace, I’d certainly be dead.

Still, I feel like I’m dying—if someone can die from pleasure and torment.

Breaths heavy, I slyly slide my fingers between us and rub myself—only once—before he swats my hand away. I pout at him. “Daemon, I need to come. Please.”

Finally, the asshole takes pity on me. Fully hard, he slips out of my pussy and readjusts. His lips curl around my breast, his tongue and teeth wrapping around the nipple until it’s a stiff peak. I buck against him, and he laughs into my skin, those teeth digging deeper, that mouth sucking harder. He moves on to the other breast and repeats.

“Daemon, stop screwing around,” I hiss.

“So demanding,” he mumbles. Slowly, he kisses and sucks a trail down my body, igniting every inch of me on fire before spreading my thighs apart. They’re glistening from me, from him, and from sweat too, but he doesn’t seem to care. “Beg me again,” he says.

And shamelessly I do. “Please make me come.”

“Good girl.” Wings spread, Daemon’s tongue laps at my clit, and then he sucks it between his teeth. I twine my fingers in his hair and pull, the bed creaking as I arch my back. Closer and closer he edges me until tears blur my vision. If he stops now, I might actually kill him.

But I don’t have to worry about that.

His teeth bite down hard. The orgasm comes harder. I scream, my hips thrashing into his mouth as he tips me over the edge and keeps me there, lapping and sucking and biting. It’s too fucking much. Every muscle in my body shakes, and I beg him to stop, then I beg him to keep going. It feels like an eternity passes before my orgasm dies out, and still he laps at me until I’m a useless heap on the mattress, my ears literally ringing.

Never in my life have I orgasmed like that.

“Kiss me again,” Daemon says.

And I do.

27

THE FINAL SUSPECT

Icould get used to this.

Half asleep, Daemon carries me to his large jetted tub like I’m a princess. He sets me down on the soft carpet and begins turning nozzles in the tub, dumping bubble bath into the steaming water, even though I’m pretty sure that’s bad for the plumbing. What do I know, though? Maybe plumbing rules don’t apply in Hell.