And when finally there was nothing left to taste but his cock, she paused. It was just as majestic as the rest of him–thick, long, already wet at the tip, hard and ready. She ran her tongue from base to tip, then back again, slow and filthy with want. Bit at him softly with her lips, shallow and teasing. She needed to feel him in every possible way. The warmth, the smoothness, the pressure coiled beneath the surface. The salt of his skin. The way he throbbed against her tongue. She licked him again and again while her hand played with his balls, rolling them gently, just to hear the way his breath stuttered. Her fingers grazed the line from his balls to the place just shy of his hole, and he swore under his breath, his hand fisted in her hair as his voice broke, strangled and rough. “I don’t know if I should thank you for this torture or make you pay for it. Possibly both.”
“And I’d be okay with either,” she said, right before taking him deep into her mouth. As deep as she could. She sucked him slowly, her tongue working, her jaw aching, and when he hissed, when his grip on her hair tightened, it filled her with something hot and wild. The power of it. The knowledge that he could break her in half if he wanted, but instead, he was unraveling under her mouth like she was the one holding all the power.
It was intoxicating.
He tensed with a guttural growl and came. Warm and salty, thick against her tongue. She took it all in. All of him. She let herself have it and sighed in quiet satisfaction.
His breathing slowed, and he reached for her hand, tugging her up beside him to kiss her.
“There’s fresh coffee,” she said, lips brushing his. She glanced at his face, at his messy hair, at the smug satisfaction that made him look fucked-out and entirely hers. “And I have muffins.”
“You’re elite, Daphne. I mean it.” He looked at her like she’d handed him the key to a long-lost kingdom, but then sobered up fast. “But I couldn’t, in good conscience, let you go without being sure you’re just as satisfied. What kind of demon would I be?”
“A bad one?”
“The worst.”
He moved like a big cat over her, caging her beneath his body.
Not what she usually liked. Beingcageddidn’t suit her. Control was to Daphne what first editions were to collectors. Too important to give up. Aggressive. Domineering. Those were just a few of the complaints ex-lovers had implied, or shouted, over the years. And honestly? They weren’t wrong. But that also wasn’t her problem.
She was who she was, and she had damn good reasons for it.
The instinct was there, rising fast. To push him back and take full command of her pleasure, her space, her body. And Hunter felt the switch. Felt the tension. “Tell me,” he requested, low-key serious.
“I don’t like being caged.”
He nuzzled the spot under her ear, warm breath meeting her skin. “I see.” He lay back, crossing his arms behind his head, as if giving her all the power was the easiest thing in the world. “Hop on, then.”
“Just like that?” she asked. No one had ever asked her what she wanted, let alone backed off without flinching.
“Of course. Why?”
“I don’t know,” she said, hesitant. “Not everyone’s so willing to, um, give me complete control.”
He huffed, rolled his eyes. “Dumbasses. Look, you want to ride me all night? I’m here, willing and able. You want me pretzeled up? I’ll start twisting. I don’t care how, Daphne, as long as I’m inside of you.”
The tension that had never fully left her belly surged at his words. At the sight of his cock already standing at attention again. “No recovery time?”
He raised a golden eyebrow. “Sweetheart, we could literally go until the end of time. No breaks.”
“Again, convenient.”
“One of the top-tier demon perks.” Then, with a smile that was all demon, he wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked himself slowly, so slowly it dried her mouth and soaked her pussy in one breath. “Now,” he said, voice a dangerous promise. “About that payback.”
“I’m in charge, remember?”
“Oh, I remember.” His grin turned razor-sharp. “Doesn’t mean I’m helpless, you know.”
And for once, the shiver of fear only heightened the need. The need for him. For what he could do to her. For what she could choose to let him do to her.
It came down to trust, didn’t it?
Not just in him, though she did trust him. Probably more than she’d ever trusted anyone.
It was about trusting herself.
Trusting that she was strong enough to receive pleasure coming from places that had once been uncomfortable. That discomfort didn’t always mean danger. That surrender didn’t have to equal loss.
