Demons

Slowly entering the room, he was greeted by the sound of the shower running. A groan rumbled deep in his throat at the thought of her naked, wet body being mere feet from him. Part of him wanted to go right in there and take her now, but he decided to hold back and stretch things out instead.

Toeing off his shoes, he got rid of all his weapons and took off his shirt. Clad only in his jeans, he sat down it a chair and watched the bathroom door. After much too long, it opened, a billow of steam and the most beautiful angel in creation came out.

Wearing only a fuzzy purple towel and about ten pounds of wet red hair, she was a vision, which made his gut clench in emotion. This perfect female had not only chosen to be with him, she had given up everything to do so. She came up and stood right in front of him, like she was waiting for him to take charge. A sly smile crept over his lips, he would be more than happy to accommodate her on that. “That’s a nice towel. Lose it,” he ordered, never getting up from the chair.

With a small gasp of surprise, or maybe it was pleasure, she obeyed, dropping the towel to reveal her gorgeous curves. Cam allowed his gaze to slowly rake over her, taking in her full breasts, pink nipples, taunt stomach and curvy legs before finally settling on the junction of her thighs. “You’re wet for me already,” he observed. “Tell me, Amadeaha, while you were in the shower just now, did you think about me and touch yourself?”

A bright flush appeared on her chest and cheeks. “I…” she trailed off and looked down.

“Oh no you don’t. I would think we are long past the point of being embarrassed in front of each other. The first time I buried my face between those white thighs of yours and licked up your cream should have taken away any inhibitions you may have had with me. So I’m going to ask you one more time, mate. While you were in the shower, did you touch yourself while thinking about me?” She raised her gaze to him and Cam sucked in a breath at the pure desire burning in her eyes. All this dominance and dirty talk was turning her on just as much as it was him.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I touched myself and moaned out your name as I came.”

Fuck, this vixen is going to be the death of me someday. Oh well, at least I’ll go out with a smile on my face. “Show me.”

“What?” Her eyes grew round with shock.

“Slide your fingers down to your clit and show me how you like to be touched.” He shifted in the seat, trying to find a more comfortable position since his cock was straining against his pants.

With a shy smile, she slowly trailed her fingers down her chest, past her stomach until she was caressing her own slippery folds. Just as things were starting to get good, she stopped and gave him a saucy look. “I’ll do it only if you do it, too. I want you to take your cock in your hands and show me how you like to be pleasured.”

Despite the blazing hot sexual tension racing through the room, Cam threw back his head and laughed. “Turning the tables on me? Only you, Crazy Pie. Okay, never let it be said I don’t please my female."

"Johnny, please."

Christine arched her body higher, using her legs to push her hips up as his tongue whipped over her pulsing nub time and time again. Her breath quickened as his hands slid higher, kneading her breasts while his thumbs played on her nipples. "Eat me harder, Johnny."

He obeyed her command, sucking the juices from her snatch. Even the sound of him devouring her sent another shockwave of release coursing through her body.

The man never stopped. How could he keep his mouth on her so long? Christine absently wondered at his stamina and smiled. Who cared? As long as he kept biting and sucking, she wouldn't complain.

"Oh, Johnny. I don't know if I can take much more." She lifted her head to glance at him and caught the corners of his mouth barely visible above her curly hair. He answered her by intensifying his hold on her, making her body shake with his attack.

At last he let go of her, rising above her to stare into her eyes. "I've missed you, baby, so much."

"I missed you, too, Johnny."

A buzzing sound startled her, but she vowed to ignore it. Nothing would get in the way of being with Johnny. Not tonight. Tonight would be the night they made it. Tonight he'd stay.

Her hands slid up his arms positioned on either side of her and came to rest on his mountainous shoulders. "I'm so glad you're home." Yet, even as she said the words, his face wavered.

Stunned, she stared at him as he grew less solid, more transparent with every second. "No! Johnny, don't leave." Her hands fell through his shoulders and she grasped air where once his arms had been.

The insistent buzzing grew louder as Johnny disappeared.

"No! Johnny, don't go!" She woke with a start and sat up, panting as her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. She glanced around at the bedroom, the bedroom she'd shared with her husband--her deceased husband--and stared at the closed window. The morning sun cascaded through the glass, warming the thin blanket she clutched to her breast, yet she felt nothing but the cold ache of loneliness.

Again. She'd had the dream again. And as in previous times, she'd awakened and lost her Johnny.

"Damn!" Grief mixed with anger as she threw the pillow at the buzzing alarm clock, knocking it off the nightstand. Reaching to the other pillow, she took the picture of Johnny lying on top, held it tightly against her chest and sobbed.

"You may taste me now." Carl let out a frustrated groan as Robert hungrily attacked her pussy, bouncing along with the swing as he lapped at her juices. She giggled, pleased at the expression on Carl's face as her firm, round breasts jostled with the up and down motion. "Spread my lips with your fingers, Robert. Show Carl what he's missing."

Robert used his thumbs and opened her to him, then edged a bit away, giving his friend a view of her pussy. Carl whined like a puppy begging for a treat.

Miranda leaned backward and spread her legs farther apart. "I could tell you have a good tongue, Robert. Those who speak little often do. Eat me. Lick my juices as Carl wishes he could."

Artavan set off to bathe after Tork had retreated. He walked to the pool they’d used earlier, stripped off his beautiful deerskin, and jumped in. He played happily in the water, rinsing his mouth and washing his long hair. As he broke through the surface after chasing fish, he saw the Prince staring impassively.

“Come in and swim with me!” Artavan called. “The water is so cool!”

His frown deepened slightly, but he began to undress. Artavan tried not to look, out of respect, but soon he felt an arm encircle his chest. He dared not breathe as he felt the caress of warm lips on his neck.

He could feel the Prince’s erection poking his backside exploringly.

“Have you never done this before?” Devdata asked when he noticed Artavan’s tenseness.

“No sir. I believe that when I love someone deeply, I will understand and be ready,” Artavan said with a trembling voice.

“Oh, what about your many wives?” Devdata asked. “You do nothing with them? You do not enter them?”

“I… uh… that is to say,” Artavan sputtered.

“Never mind, I like your spirit, human. Perhaps it isn’t good for me to try your soft body in this way just yet.” Devdata stepped back. “Here, will you touch my swollen member? I’ve had no release for some time.”

Artavan turned, blushing all over and gently held the Prince’s cock, stroking it softly under the water. He was very careful and respectful, but Devdata looked dissatisfied and impatient.

“You certainly have never done this before, have you?” Devdata laughed. “I’ll show you how it is done.” Artavan stepped back fearfully, but Devdata put his arms around his chest as he turned to flee. As if he were a rag, the Prince dragged him to a shallow spot and sat the blushing young man on his lap.

“Have you never done this while alone? Do you not pleasure yourself?”

When the hand shook her awake the next morning, Nakedella rose without comment and followed her bemused hostess to another maze with another statue in it.

This one held his sword at the ready and a shield was covering his eyes.

“Good luck with this one. You will need even more creativity than you used yesterday. Nice dance, by the way.” Ariminya let her scorn drip from her voice and Nakedella simply let it roll off her. She had had worse and the comment confirmed that someone was watching her performance with the statuary.

So she would put on a show.

Ariminya’s footfalls grew silent after a few moments and the show was about to begin.

“So, you obviously can’t see me.” She pitched her voice at her most husky and seductive. “I will therefore have to give you something to listen to.”

“First, I will describe myself. My hair is gold and hangs to my hips. My skin is pale, the color of cream and the texture of silk.” She couldn’t be sure, but she thought that the shield dropped a bit. “My eyes are the green of leaves in the spring and standing next to you, I would come up to your shoulder.”

There was some definite color around the fist holding the sword. Blood was once again beginning to run in his veins.

“The clothing I am wearing is red silk, embroidered with gold and I am removing it.” She didn’t just let the clothing fall to the ground, she rubbed it across his arms and chest, letting the sound of the rustling silk against the stone work some of its magic.

“My breasts are bare to the morning light and I am rubbing at my nipples to bring them to hard peaks.” She let her sighs and murmurs of pleasure come forth as she fondled herself, this time knowing that his shield was dropping.

“My hips are wide, my pussy wet and slick with anticipation as I have been planning my seduction.” A few wet slides and she heard a tremendous creak from the statue as his face was now exposed to her beauty.

“I will now lie down over here and keep myself ready. You are welcome to join me at any time.” Following words with actions, her body found the cushion of her clothing on the grass and she began to circle her clit with lazy strokes. Never letting her arousal build too high, just keeping it simmering, her cries and moans were cutting the air, frustrating the aroused piece of granite only a few feet from her.

With a roar of triumph, he broke free and instantly was upon her, his mouth taking hers, then moving lower to suckle at her breasts as though to devour them.
 

“Good evening, miss. What is a lovely and charming creature like you doing alone?”

She turned to face her admirer from earlier. He was smiling, showing white, even teeth.

“I am sitting here and thinking.”

He raised a brow. “You can think in all this?”

The noise pounded, people jostled tables and the occasional shouting fight broke out. Her personal wards kept it all out. She could hear it but only as background noise. “Of course. Can’t you?”

Her lips quirked in a smile and he reached out to touch her hand.

The moment he made contact, two things happened. The first was that he shifted from tanned to red with burning black eyes. The second was that her wards thickened into a physical presence instead of a static field.

He immediately released her, looking at his tanned hand in shock as he resumed his previous appearance.

Elhara grabbed her purse. “Please excuse me. I have to go.” She got to her feet and made a beeline for the door without looking back.

A demon. She had run into a demon in her local bar. What were the odds that another paranormal would be hunting in this area?

She walked quickly to her car and fumbled with the keys. In the window of her vehicle, she saw the male from the bar closing in on her. He was red with black eyes and hair in the reflection, but when she whirled to confront him, he was the human aspect.

“Why are you following me?”

He looked her up and down. “What are you?”

She glared at him. “I believe that that is my question and I asked a question first.”

The moonlight lit on his dark hair, coating it in silver. He cocked his head. “My name is Solar.”

She gathered from his waiting posture that he wanted an answer to his question. “Elhara Warder.”

Her name was explanation enough. Every paranormal creature in Realm knew what a Warder was and several considered them the lowest form of talent. With only one trick in their arsenal, it was up to the Warder to create barriers between or around anything. The form depended on their personal proclivities, but the result was the same. No one was getting to a Warder with her guard up.