Page 50 of How Not to Date a Demon

Maeve understood the sincerity of the situation. She’d messed up.

“I’m sorry for letting my temper get the best of me. Again…” Maeve cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of your… uh, peers. Coworkers. Underlings?”

Galen’s lips were twitching as he stared down at her, and she averted her gaze. “So, like, if you need to ritualistically fuck me in front of them on an altar or something to really put me in my place, I totally understand.” She nodded. Yeah, what a noble offering.

“Oh, is that what you’d want?” he asked, tugging her tightly against him and wrapping his wings around them. Most of the light from the room was blocked out, and Maeve could barely see him in the dim light. They were in their own world.

She bit her lip. “What I want is for you to apologize for lying.”

Even though I lied too, like, trying to poison him and stuff. Oops.

His face fell, and she couldn’t keep up the ruse any longer. “By making me come no less than… seven times.”

Gaze darkening, Galen curled his lips in a slow smile. “Seven?”

“Yep,” Maeve said, popping the ‘P’. “Because you’re the Seventh Devil of the Sev—”

“—nth Region of Hell,” they finished together.

“You’re getting off easy if you ask me,” Maeve teased.

Galen rolled his eyes. “You’re getting off even easier.”

Maeve

But that didn’t stop him from unfurling his wings and leading her down the hallway through another maze she lost track of in the first three minutes.

“Where are we going?” she asked. They were passing less and less demons. Were they going deeper into Hell?

“My office. Wanna see it?”

Maeve expected something fancy with windows. But where would the window look out into? So it made sense, even if it was slightly disappointing, that the office was the same gray walls and white floors, though the desk and many papers scattered across it added something different to the room.

“My favorite aspect, personally, is this,” Galen said, grabbing the door handle of the first door she’d seen since they’d arrived and closing it. Unfortunately, the light went with it. Only a thin sliver glowed beneath the door, and Maeve heard a click of metal.

“Oh, a lock too?” she asked, bringing a hand to her chest. “You spoil me.”

Galen’s hands framed her waist, backed her toward the desk, and Maeve slipped up onto its surface when her thighs hit the back of it. He towered over her as he came closer, unfurrowing his wings.

She felt like a giggling schoolgirl, stomach aflutter and pulse racing as his dark silhouette, barely visible in the soft glow, covered her. He dragged his lips against hers, leaving her breathless as she arched up into him and roamed her hands over his pecs, his shoulders.

In the barely there light of the room, Maeve let Galen strip her naked. When she urged him to follow, she heard the sound of fabric ripping, and she tutted.

“Come on, the shirt was a goner anyway.”

“You need to stop ripping them all. Before you know it, you won’t have anything left. Then you’d have to walk around shirtless all the time.” Maeve sought him out, fingers brushing against the abs she knew like a map. “That would be such a shame,” she remarked, sliding her hands up his chest.

“You’d be looking at me like a piece of meat, like you are now.”

Maeve gaped. “What? How would you know? It’s too dark in here!”

Galen chuckled as he slid to his knees. “You just told me.”

Before Maeve could snap back, Galen pulled her to the edge of the desk and cupped her ass like a bowl. With no hesitation, he dragged his tongue along her folds, making her jerk against his hold, buck against his face as he tasted her like a starving man.

She threaded her hands through his hair, careful to avoid the horns and feeling the familiar soft strands between her fingers. Maeve was saving that for later.

With the practice of a man who knew her inside and out, Galen tongued her clit and dug his nails into her ass, encouraging and marking. Maeve let him hear her moans and shaky breaths, letting him know how good he was being, how fucking perfect he was.