“You can stay on the couch. God, I can smell you from here.” The man whom I assume to be Chad stands bare-chested in a cluttered bedroom. His entire presence screams his unworthiness of her. “You’re like, uh, what are those hot, slutty demon chicks?” He snaps his fingers and laughs. “You’re a fucking succubus! A slutty succubus. Take a damn shower, demon.”
Terra’s faux smile falters, brightening in that false way when Chad claps her on the shoulder on his way out of the room.
Terra rushes into the washroom, managing to shut it before the tears fall.
She stares into the mirror. Big, doe eyes that no longer shine like they did hours ago. Warm mahogany hair that clings to strong cheekbones. The type of woman who could command mountains to grow, or forests to bloom. Yet here she is, staring right at us as she cries.
I’m strong, but not that strong.
“It’s about time my dear pet got a pet of his own, isn’t it?” My anger is blessedly absent from my tone, by some stroke of luck.
“You can do that?”
Can I? I’m not sure. But the hope in Vulf’s tone, the way his wolf comes out to play, tail wagging, big, watery eyes locked on mine, means I must try. I turn back to the woman stepping into the shower. I owe it to her as well.
“I asked a question, pet.”
“Yes!” Vulf cries. “Yes, please, let me have her.”
“Very well. You deserve a treat.”
Chapter Three
Terra
My chin wrinkles with the weight of stifled sobs. I rush to turn on the shower before any noise escapes. Chad isn’t trying to be a dick. He’s just tired, and doesn’t understand my reasons for going to the orgies. Most people don’t, and that’s fine.
Steam fills the modern bathroom while I get my shit together. Before he moved away, Chad was always there for me, even if my sexual cravings freaked him out. Now he’s back, and his tolerance for me is shorter than ever.
He’s not the first person to wish I would settle the thirsty demon between my legs for them. With a saucy smile and ditzy giggle, I can usually distract people from my issues, but if anything, my cravings have gotten worse. One partner isn’t enough. Two will get me there, but three? That’s when things start to get good. Especially when I get to observe others blissedout on orgasms in the same room, to taste their pleasure, to use it as lube.
“Fuck.”
I drop my forehead against the shower wall and let scalding hot droplets pelt my neck as tears blend with the water. Something’s wrong with me. I’m a total sobbing wreck in the shower, and the thought of using someone’s cum to get fucked by another man has my fingers twitching toward my pussy.
Ignoring the call to feed my inner succubus, as Chad so aptly named it, I force myself to wash without playing around in Chad’s shower. Once clean, I step out of the shower and reach for a towel, glancing in the mirror to make sure my smile passes for legit. I let the fake happiness wash over me until my second skin is secure and even the foggy mirror looks satisfied.
Letting the towel drop, I reach forward to swipe at the fog. My hand snags on the glass. Pain lances through my fingers, shooting up my arm, but I can’t pull away. A white-hot explosion strips my vision, ringing in my ears, overhauling my existence until nothing but pain remains.
This must be death. A piece of myself mourns that I hadn’t gone out split between two enormous cocks, mid-orgasm.
Fuck, the pain in my head is unbearable! How long will it continue? I’ve heard the body lives for minutes after death. I won’t miss the migraines, that’s for sure. They’re so common that I won’t be surprised if they haunt me even in death. My hands fly to my temples, no longer tethered to the mirror. Instead of smooth skin, my fingers clutch at stumps that grow and grow.
Horns?!
“Oh, god!”
I really am a demon! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Considering the migraine lingers and the horns break skin, that must mean myfoster families had all been right about me. Chad, too, that rude fucker.
Hell is colder than I’d expected. Through frightened tears, I blink at the blurry scene. Clouds and ice swirl around a figure that gawks down at me between crystalline pillars that rise to a flat ceiling of fog. The stranger is tall and stacked, built like a firefighter. Even his Hollywood wizard beard is flecked with snowflakes, and damn my demonic pussy for wanting to ride that arrogant Daddy smirk.
Strange, for how long and weathered his beard looks, there are no wrinkles around his icy blue eyes. Not a crease in sight on smooth opalescent skin that shimmers every time the snow reflects the light.
I swallow a thick lump and bite back my tears. No one’s that ethereally pretty without some deal with the devil.
I find my voice. “Are you a demon, too?”
The man furrows perfectly trimmed gray brows, then chuckles, and damn, he is every good girl’s dream.
