“Yes!” she snapped while futilely wrestling with his grip.
His warm breath wafted over her upturned face and made liquid want soak her panties as he took in her desperation with a calculating expression. Yet she saw that his own desire was beginning to crack his calm mask and felt bone-deep relief, and even triumph, as she kept struggling for his mouth’s attention. It was only a matter of minutes before he would give her what she needed.
“You consent, Selma?” His voice, now huskier, pulled another whimper from her with the vibration it sent down through her spine, but she managed to nod through the fire in her veins.
“You’re gonna give me that sweet little pussy willingly in exchange for relief?” He bent his head just a little more, his breath teasingly tickling over her lips now, and she thought she might pass out from the sheer strength of her need for his kiss.
“Yes, anything! Just…!” She stretched as far as she could, almost reaching his warm lips, willing him to give in.
He did.
The sweet rush of ecstasy when his wonderful flavor returned to her lips pacified her for a few seconds as she adjusted to the head rush it caused. Then the fire in her abdomen exploded.
“Easy now!” There was still laughter in Marathin’s voice when she ripped his shirt apart, sending buttons flying—but that didn’t conceal the dark thrum of desire, nor the growl she pulled from him by scratching at his skin to yank it completely off his body.
“Little wildcat,” he growled, grabbing her by the hair and pulling her head back when she tried to bite him for delaying their coupling. “You want it rough?”
Selma shuddered wantonly at the promise in his eyes, relishing in the unabashed lust she saw there. All signs of his cool, professional façade had been wiped away, leaving nothing but a strong, lean male primed and ready to fuck. God, how she needed him!
Instead of answering, she let her hands smooth over his rock-hard stomach muscles, up to the chiseled chest where she dug in her nails, drawing blood and a snarl from the demon. His hold on her hair tightened painfully, but it only sent the slick heat pooling between her thighs and dripping down her legs as she dug her nails in deeper, pressuring him to take control.
She wanted, needed, him to claim her, to prove he was strong enough to take her as he pleased, and he was going to do just that, even if she had to rip him to shreds first!
Thankfully, he complied.
He yanked her head all the way back with a rough tug, exposing her vulnerable throat to him. His lips followed, burning up the column of her neck until he dug in his teeth in an unspoken claim of dominance.
Selma moaned, momentarily going limp against him as he wound his free arm around her waist. Yes, this was it—this was what she needed him to do! The heat from his mouth and the sting from his bite only fueled her desire.
The second he released her throat, she was pulling at his pants, not quite able to work the buttons in her lust-filled haze. Finally something snapped, and she managed to rip them open before he pressed her against the wall with both her hands locked over her head in his large hand.
“Are you wet for me, sweetheart?” he asked huskily, trailing the fingers not around her wrists down her stomach and—ever so lightly—over the front of her pants.
“Oh fuck, please, please, more!” She strained against his grip, pressing her hips out in a desperate attempt at getting more friction against her painfully sensitive groin, but he easily kept her in place, drawing teasing patterns on the white fabric with just enough pressure to drive her crazy with need.
“I’ll give you more, sweetheart.” His amber eyes bored into hers, forcing her attention to them rather than his naked torso and the ache between her legs.
“Just fuck me!” she gasped and arched desperately, doing her best to reach his warm body with the part of her that needed him the most. “Please, for the love of God, fuck me!”
A feral sneer crossed his features, almost resembling the demonic features the brand had suppressed from her vision. Marathin stepped closer to her, pressing against her pleading hips roughly enough to flatten her against the door. “There is no god here, Selma. There is only me and the pleasure. Do not call out for one again, or I will make you regret it.”
The threat might have registered if he hadn’t been close enough for his breath to waft over her face as he stared her down. When he released her hands to grasp at her shirt, she lost all focus for anything but his powerful body.
He ignored her frantic hands as they clawed his torso and ripped at his pants, easily removing her top and pushing her bottoms off before he pulled his length out of his own ruined pants.
She didn’t get a chance to drink in the sight of him as the next moment he lifted her against the wall, bracing with one of her legs on each side of his strong hips. Her muscles tensed in preparation of what they instinctively knew was coming, even as the entrance to her pussy softened further, weeping with need.
“Yes, yes, yes!” she chanted as he pressed his hard cock against her nether lips, but when she angled down to take him inside of her, her opening protested the stretch.
Marathin didn’t give her time to prepare. With a harsh grunt, he pulled down on her hips, breaching her.
Selma tossed her head back with a wail, pawing weakly at his chest. She was slick with need, but he was rough and she’d not been with a man for years. The demon didn’t care, pushing into her farther—and that’s when she realized that something was wrong—terribly wrong.
The head of his cock—large and bulbous, and otherwise just what she needed—was fully inside of her, but along the rim, something hard and uneven dug into her slick channel, overshadowing even the rough stretch of unaccustomed tissue.
“It won’t harm you if you relax.” He grunted, his own instincts clearly fighting to take over and ram into her to the hilt. “I will explain after... Don’t fight it; it’ll feel good in a minute.”
It wasn’t like she had much choice; her body, though alarmed at the unfamiliar sensation, was too deep in the ring’s spell to put up a fight, and when he pressed in further and those bumps ground against her G-spot, all traces of worry disappeared.
