Page 57 of How Not to Date a Demon

“Oh my fucking—” She moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’ll finally get a whole night of sleep. Eight interrupted hours. Now we’re talking.”

Galen chuckled and pulled her limp form off the chair like she weighed no more than a doll. “Anything to make you moan like that again,” he teased.

“Take me to my chambers, oh Seventh Regio—no, it’s Region Seven—no, Demon Seven of the—”

“—don’t hurt yourself, honey.”

“Shut up,” Maeve grumbled.

“Make me,” Galen retorted.

Maeve tightened her arms around his neck and waited until he was lowering her to the bed before she made her move. Reaching up, she stroked one of the horns he’d left on display since they’d gotten home, pulling a moan from him.

His cheeks flamed red.

Maeve kissed the blush tinting his skin. “Be careful what you wish for.”

Maeve

“Alright, that’s it,” Maeve announced, slamming her laptop closed.

Galen paused on his way to the kitchen, arching a brow at her shaped in curiosity. “What’s it?”

She stood, tossing her laptop to the side and stalking to her boyfriend. His sly grin was a little too calculated, and she knew then she’d played right into his hands.

Stupid gray sweatpants.

Stupid hot demon boyfriend.

He backed into the doorframe and stayed there as she approached, until she was craning her neck back to stare up at him.

His pretty dark eyes were alight with mischief, and the gold horns on his head glimmered in the soft back light from the kitchen. Rarely did Galen take on his human form anymore, Maeve made sure of it.

“Get on your knees,” she demanded.

He arched a brow at her, but his eyes darkened in interest. “Make me.”

Maeve practically purred, reaching up to caress a line down his shadow speckled jaw.

“I don’t have to make you do anything, do I, Daddy?”

Galen melted down to his knees without another word.

It was new, the Daddy thing. But the first time Maeve had tossed the word around as a tease, Galen turned to putty in her hands, and goddammit, she loved the Seventh Devil of the Seventh Region of Hell more than anything else.

So Daddy it was, sneaking its way into their playtime more often than not.

“You’ve been walking around in those sweatpants all day. Pretty slutty of you,” she observed.

He paused with his lips scant centimeters from her hip, and the bow of them twitched. “Slutty, huh?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” she scoffed, and threaded her hand through his dark locks, careful to avoid the horns. “You knew we’d end up here.”

With heat building in her core, she dragged him the remaining distance, and his lips brushed against her skin in reverence.

He gazed up at her, eyes dark with arousal and bottom lip sticking to her skin. Another kick of heat landed in her stomach, and she swallowed. “You know what to do, Daddy.”

Galen’s hum was so bratty. She wanted to feel it between her thighs. “Don’t know. Memory’s kinda fuzzy.”