It’s not that I haven’t killed my fair share of people. My hands are not clean. But never in all my years of life have I ever tortured a person. I never saw the need. Watching Sarai Duval mutilate her face I realize I may not be cut out for it.
Lenora never looks away.
She watches with the quiet calm of someone surveying an exhibit at the museum. It’s with unfazed, cool detachment. Even when Sarai sets a chunk of tattered flesh on the table, Lenora barely blinks.
And I’m proud of her.
Most men … most people would be appalled. Disgusted. They would be horrified by her actions, but I study her face and my damn cock gets hard. My heart thumps between my ears. I am overcome with a need to have her, so vicious I nearly shatter my teeth to restrain myself.
“Une si gentille fille.”The deep, guttural growl escapes me before I can stop myself.
Lenora lifts her gaze to my face, still so sweet and even. Her expression mirrors the raging erection in my pants even before her fingers drift to my fastens.
“Est-ce que ça te rend dur?”
Her asking me if it makes me hard in French sends my sanity over. My fingers twist in her heavy curls and I drag her into my chest. My mouth seals over her soft gasp, fighting her as viciously as she tears at my zipper. Our tongues wage war and I snarl across hers with the first curling of her touch around my cock.
I fist the front of her pretty dress and shred it down the front. The scream of fabric muffles the squelch and plop of Sarai’sprogress. Lenora’s deep groan distorts everything but the sweet taste of her nipple in my mouth. Her fingers in my hair.
“My beautiful, perfect girl,” I growl in French as I scoop her up and she locks her knees around my waist.
My feet guide us away from the bed. I find myself next to Sarai. Her face is an unrecognizable mess with only her eyes to give her away. They’re no longer glazed but wide with horror and pain. They meet mine with confusion and pleading when I set Lenora on the vanity and sink my cock in her tight channel.
“Harder,” my baby pleads, eyes never leaving the woman carving the implants from her chest.
Sarai makes a choking sound, watching me rail Lenora, knocking over bottles and brushes. Letting them roll through the crimson puddles.
The razor blade slips from her trembling fingers and clatters to the table.
Lenora pinches it gingerly, unfazed by the blood and flesh clinging to it and hands it back as if returning a dropped pencil.
“Don’t stop,” she tells the other woman, who promptly keeps going.
I take Lenora’s nipple between my teeth and suck. I slam my hips into her with violent drives that cracks the vanity into the wall. She cries my name and I fuck her harder.
“Put her on the bed.”
No questions asked, I do as the demon orders. I take her to the bed, cock in her slick cunt until I reach the mattress.
I drop her.
Beautiful. Naked. Pussy soaked.
And opening. Her tiny hole expands around nothing and Lenora sobs. Her back comes off the mattress as the demon fills her. Fucks her. I watch her body jerk and twitch. Her core pulse. Her thighs are pulled to her chest and held by invisible hands that dig into the soft flesh.
“Taste her. Make her cum on my cock.”
I should be pissed.
I was fucking her. I wasn’t done using that hole. But all I can process is how much I love this. How perfect she looks with her cunt open and stretched wide.
I dive between her thighs. I sink my tongue into that gaping hole. I lick the ring of her opening before latching to her clit.
Lenora growls my name and pulls me up by my hair.
“There’s room. I want you both to use me.”
I can’t be certain but either I or the demon groan. Maybe both. But neither ask when I climb between her thighs and add my cock to her already stuffed opening.
