I groaned at the feel of her, the way she was already pulsing and slick and so alive under me. I traced the seam of her underwear, then slid the fabric aside, not bothering with pretense, and pressed two fingers to her. She was hot—hotter than any mortal should be, and I felt something in me snarl with anticipation at the proof she wanted this as much as I did.
Her hand tightened on my cock, and she said, “Okay, I need a heads-up—no pun intended. Am I supposed to do something special with”—she pumped once, thumb tracing the knotted ridge at the base—“this part? Or is it like one of those gourmet hot dogs where you just admire the engineering and then bite down?”
It took me a second to realize what she was asking. I glanced down at myself, at the thick, marbled length of my cock, the head flared and almost spade-shaped, and the ridge at the base swollen and ridged like the handle of a battle-axe. The knot. I’d forgotten how the sight of it could stop a mortal cold. Annie’s hand squeezed experimentally, then she surfed her thumb over the knot, curiosity and delight mixing in her face.
“That’s an… upgrade,” she said, voice uncertain for the first time, but only a little. “Is it, like, functional, or just for show?”
I almost wanted to say it was just for show, to make it easier, but I didn’t want to lie to her. “It locks us together,” I said, voice rough. “At the end. It’s a breeding thing. Demon biology.” The words came out hot, half-apologetic, but Annie’s eyes only got brighter.
She ran her thumb over the knotted ridge again, as if she could memorize it with her touch. “How long does it last?” she said, and the way she saidhow longmade me ache, the way she ground herself against the answer. “Full, or just tip?” She locked her eyes on mine, and I understood she wanted specifics, not metaphors.
“It’s all or nothing,” I said. There was a warning in my tone, and not a drop of apology. “You’ll be stuck with me till it softens. Sometimes minutes, sometimes an hour if I’m—“ I leaned in, tongue tracing her jaw. “Feeling possessive.”
Her breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away. Her entire body had gone pliant with anticipation, the animal part of her brain already signing the waiver before the rest of her caught up. She rolled the knob again in her palm, as if she wanted to test the friction.
“So it’s really a breeding thing,” she said, voice half-laughing, half-challenging. “Should I be scared?”
I curved my fingers inside her, feeling the way her body opened around me. “You should be prepped for it, at least,” I said. “Once it starts, I can’t stop.” Decades of practice battling with the need to be honest, even if it made me look weak.
Annie’s laugh was ragged, delighted. She fished my cock out again. “Copper IUD and the pill, Samiel. Double-barreled birth control. If you think demon sperm scares me more than the average man’s, you don’t know my exes.”
The lust in my gut went white-hot. I lost the last of my restraint and hoisted her to the counter, letting her ankles hook my waist, her skirt hiking up to frame the soft skin of herthighs. She wasn’t shy; she yanked her panties down to mid-thigh and grinned, mean and hungry, at the sight of me losing my composure.
I pressed the head of my cock to her, testing the wet heat with a slow, deliberate drag, letting the spade-shaped head spread her open. She bit her bottom lip hard enough for it to go white, but didn’t break eye contact. I pushed in, slow, savoring every millimeter as her body shuddered around me. She was tight—so tight—and I had to grit my teeth to keep from slamming her straight through the backsplash.
The first inch was resistance, the next was pure give. She gasped, then let out a ragged, “Fuck, you’re big,” which made me want to ruin her with the rest of it, but I forced myself to go slow—let her adjust, let her own the moment.
“Want me to stop?” I asked, voice barely human.
She shook her head, wild and desperate. “No, no—just go, Sam, go?—”
I pushed in farther, feeling her stretch, her breath hitch and then break into a whimper. Her hands clawed at my back, nails sharp, and I felt the sting like a benediction. I bottomed out slowly, the knot at my base straining against her entrance, not yet pressing in but promising. She arched her spine, face twisted up in agony and awe, and I let her acclimate, holding myself still inside her.
"Fuck, Sam," she said again, voice shredded. "You weren't kidding about the upgrade."
The words snapped something in me. I braced her hips in my hands and started to move, shallow thrusts at first, just the tip, letting her get greedy—letting her rock herself onto me harder with every motion. She was wetter than anything I'd ever felt, slick and hot and tight, and the sound of us echoed in the kitchen, obscene and gorgeous. Her breath came in gasps, then moans, and she never stopped watching my face.
I wanted to see how long she’d keep challenging me, but Annie answered that by pushing off the counter and dragging me—literally, hand fisted in my shirt—toward the living room. She didn’t bother to fix her skirt, just hopped down, panties still looped at one ankle, and stalked ahead, not even checking if I’d follow.
I did. Of course I did. I would have followed her into a fire.
The sunken living room was golden in the low afternoon light, thick carpet and all those glass walls. Annie turned and flopped onto the couch, legs spread, skirt bunched at her hips. She crooked a finger at me, a command, not a request.
“Come here.”
I went, every muscle tight as wire. She lay back, propped on her elbows, and looked at me with a hunger that bordered on savage. I palmed her knee and spread her further, lining myself up again. She was so fucking wet, and so ready for me, and when I eased in the second time, she let out a sound so desperate I thought she might shatter from it. I bottomed out, my balls pressed to her, and the knot at the base of my cock throbbed against her entrance, not quite inside yet, just massaging a promise against the slick, swollen opening.
She arched her back, hair wild across the cushions, and said, "Don't you dare hold back." Her voice was ragged but clear, slicing clean through the haze of heat between us. "I want all of it, Samiel. Every fucking inch."
I did not need to be told twice. I set a rhythm—slow, heavy, grinding—letting my cock piston in and out, each thrust deeper, each retreat slower, letting her savor the obscene stretch. Her hands flew to my chest, nails raking down the skin, and her thighs shook around my waist, the beginnings of a spasm already rippling under the surface. She dragged me down for a kiss, her breath hot and sweet, biting my lower lip until I groaned into her mouth.
The knot of my cock swelled as I approached the edge, a slow, relentless pressure that built until it was almost unbearable. I could feel her clench around me, the muscles of her cunt fluttering in perfect time with the noises she made, like she was trying to milk every last drop out of me. Her hands found my horns again, this time holding tight as I pounded her harder, the sounds of skin and wetness and couch springs filling the whole goddamn house.
“Fuck—” she gasped. “—Sam—don’t stop?—”
I didn’t. I couldn’t. The last of my control snapped, and I drove in with everything I had, knot battering at her entrance until with a slick, obscene pop, it forced its way through. She screamed—no sound, just air and animal heat, her whole body going rigid as the knot tied us together, locking us in a pulsing, involuntary spasm. The velvet vise of her cunt clenched around me, milking out every ounce of sensation until the only thing left was white noise and the wild, shuddering aftershock of a climax that felt like it might kill me.
I held there, buried in her, my forehead pressed to the crook of her neck. Her breath was a staccato of little whimpers, body still trembling around the knot and the length of me inside her. I’d never felt anything like it, not once in four decades of pretending to be tame. My body wanted to rut, to claim, to stay inside her until the end of time. My mind just wanted to know if I’d broken her in the good way, or the bad.
