Page 11 of How Not to Date a Demon

Kissing Maeve always felt a little like he was selling his soul.

He knew he shouldn’t, but goddamn, the possibilities of what was to come were too good for him to resist.

Hopefully, her first.

“Got yourself all worked up, hmm? Need some help?”

Gaze darkening in challenge, Maeve smirked and spread her thighs beneath him. "You know I love this suit," she purred.

Shit, the things this woman did to him.

He tasted her just like he wanted. Every inch of her, from her lips to her hip bones to the insides of her thighs. And finally, when he’d teased her enough, he swiped his tongue between her folds, tasting the effect he had on her.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered. “So wet for me.”

Her lips parted on a silent moan as she tried to cant her hips in his direction.

Stilling her with an arm atop each thigh, he lowered his head again and feasted.

He licked and lapped between her folds, teasing and pulling back at the last second. And he didn’t stop until her fingers were tangled in his hair, nails digging into his scalp, moans falling from her lips in the most delicious sounding whines.

“Galen,” she said, but his name trailed off into a moan as he tweaked a nipple and swiped his tongue inside her one last time.

“Yes, my dear?” he asked with a smug grin.

Maeve tilted her head up. “You’ve still got some groveling to do. But for now… I want you inside me.”

That was a sacrifice Galen was willing to make.

Maeve

Maeve wasn’t comfortable. With a sigh, she rolled over again and attempted to find the perfect spot amongst all her pillows, the blanket, and her boyfr—

She slid her hand over his side of the bed, meeting only cold sheets and cooler air.

Where the hell was he?

Blinking her eyes open, she adjusted to the soft moonlight and grabbed her phone off the nightstand.

It was three-thirty. So she had like four hours of sleep left.

Why had this become some kind of ritual for her lately? She used to sleep the whole night through.

She muffled a groan in the blanket and stopped at the sound of something in the other room.

Alarm ran through her, and she sat up, holding the covers to her chest. Listening harder, she recognized the sound of Galen’s voice, and her panic eased.

A mischievous smile curled her lips as she slid her legs over the side of the bed. She couldn’t wait to bust Galen and make endless fun of him for singing in the middle of the night. And to who? The puppies?

But the more she listened, the more she couldn’t recognize what the hell he was singing. As she drew closer to the living room, the sound of his voice grew louder, but she didn’t recognize the tune or the words of the song.

The moment suddenly felt so surreal, and she wrapped her hand around the doorknob. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, but her curiosity was stronger than whatever fight-or-flight instinct was trying to activate. The door opened silently, and she pulled it toward her to see through a small gap.

Galen was sitting on the living room floor, his back to her as he faced the three puppies. At first, her heart warmed, thinking he was singing them to sleep or something equally cheesy.

But she wouldn’t quite classify it as singing. It wasn’t… lyrical. His voice was low, and the longer she listened, the less sense it made. The shapes of the words weren’t anything like English, or any other language she’d heard. But the puppies didn’t seem to care, staring up at him in a daze, tongues lolling out as they panted normally.

But there wasn’t anything normal about this. Not the sound, the dogs, or their red fucking eyes.