Her mouth parts as she blinks up at me. I cover her body with my own and bury my cock into her once more. A softohfalls from her lips and I capture the sound. The thread between us tightens with each thrust.
My magic spins out of control, shadows whipping around us and creating a firestorm overhead. Sparks fall from the dense clouds and sizzle as they hit my skin. When they land on Clara, they flare a bright blue—tiny flames flickering across her flesh.
Her hand slips between us, and I push to my knees. Between her moaning my name, her fingers circling her clit, and my cock disappearing into her, I'm close to losing it. She spasms around my length, sending me hurtling into oblivion. Her cries echo around us and I shudder out my release.
I collapse onto her, careful to keep my weight from crushing her. She wraps her arms around my shoulders and tucks her head into my neck. I flip to my back, taking her with me. She settles on my chest, then spasms around my cock, still buried deep in her. It wouldn't take much for me to recover and take her all over again.
She yawns, grinding any thoughts of round two to a halt. I may not know a lot about being spellsick, but I do know she needs rest. As her breathing evens out, I kiss the top of her head. She mumbles something in her sleep and I tighten my hold on her.
I realize this might be the last time she'll be in my arms. If things go the way I expect they will, she'll go home soon and I'll have to adjust my existence once more. I'll never revert to who I was before I met her. I wouldn't want to. I shove the thoughts away, unwilling to sully the last few moments I have with her.
Iprobably should have woken Omen before I slipped out of bed. He was sleeping peacefully and I didn't have the heart to wake him. Plus, he deserves it for leaving me while I was sick. It's not like I'm going far. Hopefully, he doesn't freak out and punch a wall again.
“Hey, Kitty Cat,” I coo as I step into the kitchen. He meows and I scratch him under the chin. “Are you supposed to be on the counter or is Omen going to threaten to skin you if he catches you?”
His tail pops up and he stretches before jumping down. I smile as he sashays away. I still need to ask Omen what the cat's actual name is. It almost feels like it's been too long, though. He hasn't corrected me so far, but I doubt he calls the cat Handsome or Kitty Cat. Sunshine is definitely out since he’s not orange. Plus, his behavior doesn’t lend to a sunny disposition. Omen probably calls him something ridiculous like Bane or Charcoal.
I set about gathering all the ingredients for cinnamon bread. Part of me wonders if I should question a bag full of baking supplies found in a closet. Then again, Omen didn't say anything and this is his place. Maybe Hell often leaves groceries out based on cravings. Who am I to question these things?
I search around for music, but the kitchen is devoid of literally anything. As I go through the cupboards, I wonder if I'll even find a bread pan to bake this thing in. I open a drawer and go back to the cupboards on the bottom.
“What the fuck,” I mutter. “How much magic is in this place? Random cooking utensils shouldn’t just pop up.”
Once I've found everything, I set about mixing the ingredients. The kitchen could probably provide me with a mixer, but I need to do something with my hands. It's not until I'm halfway through I realize I don't have any eggs. I glance around the space as if they'll magically appear. If Hell can bring me all the supplies and tools, it can get me some fucking eggs.
Omen stumbles into the kitchen, sweatpants hung low on his hips. My mouth waters as I stare at his crotch. He clears his throat and my eyes pop up.
“My eyes are up here, little witch. What are you making?”
“Uh, bread?”
“That a question?” He leans against the counter and peeks in the bowl.
“No. It's bread. Cinnamon bread. I need eggs, though. Do you have any?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. I don't keep food here. I eat in the mess or with Dimitri. He cooks, but food down here is different. You need eggs, though, I'll get you eggs.”
He disappears before I can question him about how food is different. I never thought about how demons eat. In my mind, the fries were a fluke. Omen has a weird amalgamation of knowledge when it comes to the human realm. I scoot aroundthe counter and haul myself up on a tall stool. My feet dangle and I kick them back and forth. If he takes forever, I'm going to end up getting bored.
“Got it,” he calls in triumph ten seconds before he appears.
“That is not an egg,” I choke out.
“Yes, it is.” He turns the thing over in his hands.
“Well, maybe, but I need a chicken egg. Those don't have scales and they certainly aren't iridescent. Oh and that thing is about fifty times bigger than a chicken egg.”
He scowls at the thing, then bellows, “Dimitri.”
The other demon pops in before Omen's voice fades and I jolt. At least I don't scream this time.
“Hey, Clara. Nice to see you're still in Hell.” Dimitri flashes me a grin before turning to Omen. “Uh, why do you have a dragon egg? And how the fuck did you get it away from the horde?”
“It was just sitting there in the coals. I just grabbed it. She needs eggs. Not this egg. Like, squawking eggs.”
“Chicken,” I say, fighting a grin.
“I know, but they squawk. Funny little fuckers.”
