With every stroke of his cock and every thrust of his tongue, he pushed me closer to mind-obliterating bliss.
But that’s how it was with Titus. Nothing else mattered when he wore me like this, whether we were in the back of his truck bed or in the middle of a demonic ritual circle with an entire cult watching us screw each other’s brains out.
He was the only thing that mattered.
The rest was just unimportant details, flavoring at best.
My muscles seized when Titus’s tongue changed motions. It was almost like he was searching for something. I then realized that’s exactly what he was doing.
Jesus.
It’s not like I knew the specifics on how the whole soul-marking thing worked. I definitely didn’t imagine it would entail Titus shoving his tongue down my throat and digging around inside me like he was looking for a cereal-box prize.
Dazed from all the stimulation, I noted the way his index finger had dragged over my skin.
A garbled mewl left me as he pushed the claw into my chest.
Holy shit.
He was carving something into my flesh. The pain was chased away by pleasure, and the smell of blood mingled with the scents of sex, sweat and smoke.
The night was cool, but Titus was an inferno.
Then, something inside me shifted. I lay there in dazed disbelief as Titus withdrew his tongue from me.
So many things happened at once.
I jerked, screaming with the violent release that crashed over me like a tidal wave.
As his tongue slithered back inside his mouth—swallowingsomething—he pulled his cock out of me, then wrapped his hand around his girth and gave it one, two, then three pumps. Thick ropes of cum came shooting out, painting my navel, my breasts and my heaving chest.
As my orgasm tingled through me, dots of light peppered my vision.
I couldn’t make out what he’d carved. My flesh was covered in a thick layer of blood and cum. Before I could find the words to speak, he bent down and licked away the filth, leaving a clean view of the fresh wounds.
The design was a collection of demonic-looking runes.
“My name. In Old Tongue,” he purred, answering my unspoken question. “It’s my mark. Now every demon, devil and monster will know that your soul belongs to me.”
“It worked?”
A smug smile curved his lips. “It fucking worked.”
I craned my head to peer at the bonfire. The Jersey Devil was gone. The bonfire started to subside, its haze of smoke coiling up into the paling sky. Daybreak was just around the corner.
I collapsed back into the dirt, the most satisfying of sighs winding through me. The footsteps of the cultists sounded and faded as they all retreated into the woods.
“Bye, fuckers. Hope you enjoyed the show.” Titus snickered, sucking my flavor off his fingers before giving a two-digit salute to their retreating forms and then collapsing back into the dirt with me.
He propped himself up on an elbow, turning to peer at me. “Jesus Christ. That was fucked. Perfectly fucked.”
I laughed. “Since I met you, you’ve been telling me how fucked I am. So…what’s it feel like? To own my soul, I mean?”
His eyes lit up as they skimmed my freshly marked chest. “It feels like I’m finally home, Lore.”
Several hours later, we stood at the border of the Pine Barrens, looking beyond the trees to the world beyond.
“So, what do we do now?” I scooted closer against Titus, and he threw his arm around my shoulder, holding me close.
