As soon as I let go of my dick and look down at the mess I’ve made, she vanishes.
This is her fault. Next time, she’s going to help me clean it up.
11
Sable
I’ve seen human dick before.
Several of them—more than I’d probably like.
But demon dick? Jesus fucking Christ, maybe Satan really does exist because the size of that thing was inhuman.
And couldn’t he have locked the door?
I pant, blinking through my blurry vision as I run down the corridors to escape the sight of cum spurting from his cock.
Something’s wrong with me because the blood that oozed from the wound on his ribs only made him hotter. Fuck, and his tattoos? He’s covered in them—foreign script and symbols swirling down his arms and torso.
The entire image was ungodly at the same time it was divine. Unnatural in how it kept me hooked on him, watching moisture bead at his crown as he fisted it like he wanted to start a fight—then the way he looked at me like I was a dream come true and a twisted nightmare all in one.
And when he came—fuck, I don’t think I’ll ever erase that from my mind.
My shirt and striped sweater stick to my skin as I bound down the hallway, trying to put as much space between me and the demon and his hidden monster.
One question keeps circling my mind, making me hate myself a bit more: what would he feel like inside me?
No.Nope. Fuck him. I’mnevergoing to find out.
Shaking my head, I push myself to my limit, running harder. I felt him thicken against my core before I stabbed him, and that alone would’ve been enough to send my eyes rolling to the back of my head.
But then feeling that fucked-up asshole grow harder when I stabbed him… What does it say about me that my own body reacted the same way?
It was stupid of me to stab him, but that’s what I do. I don’t think. I act first and deal with the fallout later.
The peeling wallpaper and askew photo frames fly past in my peripheral vision. Suddenly, I’m a kid again, trying to sneak away as quickly as possible, falling back on muscle memory to lead me down the staircase, toward the kitchen, and down another set of stairs near the back door.
My legs don’t stop moving until I’m safe beneath the house.
I breathe hard, pulling the musty air into my lungs. The distance does nothing to quell the coiling tension low in my stomach. I squeeze my legs together and pretend the moisture down there is all in my head.
But as hard as I’m forcing myself to believe that seeing him like that doesn’t affect me, I don’t want it to stop. I want to feel something other than this hollowness in my chest, like I’m held together by more than just cheap duct tape.
The truth is, I wasn’t complete when Ella was around. I wasn’t complete when we were all living under this godforsaken roof either, but at least I wasn’t alone.
And watching him? It was a moment of intimacy I haven’t been afforded in a long, long time. Even if it wasn’t consensual or… real.
I rub my eyes like it might get rid of the image of him fucking his hand. Cursing, I glare at the ground, counting to ten.
Fuck him.
It’s unfair that I’m getting all hot and bothered by my demonic murderer. No wonder they’re said to tempt people into committing sin, because my fucking God would I be down to get carnal.
No. Enough thoughts of him and how his dick could fill the void inside me.
I hang my head back and groan. This better not be what the rest of my undead life looks like. Unrequited lust—because I’m the one who doesn’t want this feeling.
Massaging the back of my neck, I turn to double-check that the lock is in place. It’s unlikely to keep the asshole out, but it’ll give me a two-second head start to glide out the sliver of window lining the top of the basement wall if he does show.
