Page 98 of A Monstrous World: The Complete Series

Chapter One

Nadia

M y sweaty chest heaves as I pant, writhing and wishing I was tied to the wall, so I’d have something to lean against. The padded leather cuffs dig into my wrists as pain sizzles across my ass. The sharp sting on my rear end deadens the ache in my hands.

I groan, wiggling my hips.

Another couple of smacks like that, and I’ll hit subspace.

It’s not something I’d feel comfortable doing with every client—hell, it isn’t something I’d entrust to every sexual partner I’ve had—but I trust Sam.

Which is weird, because he’s a demon who enjoys tormenting me, but he’s also a very attentive lover.

Another forceful smack lands, this time across my lower ass cheek, where it meets my thigh. I suck in a sharp breath, squeezing my eyes tight, despite the fact I’m blindfolded.

“That’s a good girl,” Sam murmurs, kissing my jaw. He cups my tits with both hands, flicking calloused fingers over my nipples, making me clench my knees. My legs shake violently as my toes dance around the floor.

The blindfold doesn’t allow me to see what’s happening, so I’m baffled when another painful slap lands on my right ass cheek. I’ve only got one client in the room with me, and I can feel him framing my front. So, who the hell keeps smacking my ass?

“You’re thinking again, love.” Sam kisses my jaw once more.

“That was very close to breaking my rule.” Okay, so it’s super freaking cliché, but I don’t care. If I choose to kiss my partner, that’s one thing. But while I’m tied up and unable to see what’s happening, I’m very clear about my limits. I don’t feel guilty about that in the least.

He gently rakes his teeth down my throat. “Always so feisty.”

Another playful slap lands against my ass, but I can feel Sam’s warmth radiating against my front. I swear, sometimes it feels like the world is screwing with me.

I’ve been at The Monster’s Den long enough that my schedule is completely booked with regulars.

However, once a week, I see Sam. The thing about Sam is, he never wears the same face twice—or the same body, for that matter.

It’s weird as hell, even for the supernatural world.

I’ve got no clue what type of demon he is or how he can afford a new glamor every week, but that’s not the kind of thing I focus on too much.

Or I didn’t before I started having a tiny crush on him.

It’s weird, I know.

I’ve never developed any type of attachment to a client before, and the strangeness factor is ratcheted even higher because I don’t know what he looks like.

“Ass back for me, doll.” This time, Sam’s voice comes from behind me, but I can still feel his face brushing mine as he licks down my neck. I comply, spreading my feet and popping my backside farther toward the voice. “That’s my good girl.”

A long, forked tongue flicks over my drenched sex before hands land on my hips, pulling me farther apart.

I gasp, even as my arms ache from blood loss. No matter how intense any of our sessions have gotten, Sam never fails to check in. He’s excellent at pushing me to the line, but never dipping a toe across it.

“Do you like being tongue fucked, love?” he taunts, his warm breath fanning against the shell of my ear.

“You know I do,” I moan as fingers brush my clit from the front while I’m still getting teased with his mouth from behind.

The mystery only makes me more obsessed with him.

Some of my clients are self-conscious about their monster forms, but I do everything in my power to put them at ease. It’s beyond frustrating that I’ve managed to reach that level of vulnerability and trust with all my regulars outside of Sam.

I’ve put a lot of thought into it.

Originally, I was convinced he’s some type of hybrid with tentacles. Only, what I’m feeling now is most definitely a tongue.

Sam licks his way from my jaw to my right tit and sucks my nipple with teasing flicks.

What monster has two tongues?

Sam grips my pussy lips, teasing them up and down while brushing his finger over my clit. Pleasure courses through me as several painful smacks land against my ass and thigh.

“More, please,” I sob. The leather cuffs dig into my hands as I dance around, wiggling about as I chase my orgasm.

It’s very clear there are four hands touching me.

Two pulling my hips up and forward from behind and two on my front.

I don’t care if he’s an arachnid demon, as long as he keeps tonguing my pussy like I’m the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

“Sam, just like that! Please, please , please.”

“You beg so fucking beautifully,” he growls, sounding truly demonic. “Come, love.”

My nipples throb as my cunt locks down. I come, violently trembling as Sam wraps an arm around my middle. He holds me up enough that the cuffs are barely a thought in my mind as I sob against his chest. He circles my clit in teasing taps of his fingers as my pussy clenches in waves.

“I want your cock,” I beg.

Sam hums. “Soon, very fucking soon. But I don’t think you’re ready for that just yet.”

“I am,” I assure him, nodding wildly.

“You say that every time, doll,” Sam’s voice comes from behind me as he slurps, loudly licking his lips. He has two tones. Both are deep, but one is growly, while the other is gravelly.

It’s a mystery that grows with each session that we share.

“Just a moment and we’ll get these off of you.” Sam brushes his lips against my cheek. Fingers tickle their way down my spine as Sam also manages to kiss his way over my shoulder. It’s mind-boggling. Who needs multiple partners when one demon can be in two places at once?

The warmth disappears from my back and front simultaneously. I hang, suspended by the cuffs clipped to the ring that dangles from the ceiling. This is always the worst part. I imagine he’s changing from his monster form back to the humanoid figure that changes each session.

Sometimes I wonder if I would be as enamored with him if he wasn’t so mysterious. I think I would. None of my other clients are nearly as attentive to every nuance of my body.

“All right.” He tenderly removes the blindfold.

I blink in the fluorescent light. It’s not bright or overly dark, but it’s always an adjustment.

Sam’s warmth meets my back once again as he carefully unbuckles my right hand while his left pulls me to lean against his chest. Once I’m where he wants me, he massages from my upper arm down to my wrist.

“You know the deal. Flex your fingers for me and make a fist.”

I snuggle back against him as we repeat the process on the other side.

He’s always very exact with the amount of time we spend together.

There’s a set routine, and I know what’s coming next.

He turns me to face him and bends down, lifting me.

I wrap my hands around his neck and my feet around his ass.

His glamor today is a slender blond with shaggy hair and blue eyes. He’s hot, but I’ve learned during my time at The Den that physical appearance matters very little to me. The best sex I’ve had has been with some of the most unassuming monsters, and I haven’t even taken that step with Sam.

Despite what people believe, sex is only a small facet of my job. Half the time, I feel like a highly paid therapist.

Other times, the client wants someone to look pretty and impress their friends or business associates. Those are actually the least enjoyable appointments.

Maybe I’ve gotten jaded, or maybe I’ve grown into my own.

Either way, I’m lucky because I can now afford to be selective with the clients I see. I could survive just doing work as a fertility witch, but I’m not in a relationship, so I see nothing wrong with continuing to work at The Den for as long as I enjoy it.

“We never managed to shut off your brain completely this session,” Sam murmurs, running his hand down my back. “That’s definitely something to rectify next time.”

“I’ll see you again?” I snuggle deeper into his chest as he takes a seat on the couch near the door. I hate this part of every visit, because I know he’ll be leaving soon. There isn’t another client on my roster who causes an ache in my heart when it’s time for them to go.

It’s so bizarre.

It’s actually becoming a thing for people close to me to insinuate that it’s time for me to cut him out of my schedule. Especially the coworkers with more experience in this type of work.

They’ve beaten it into my head how dangerous it is to grow attached.

And it’s not like I don’t know that.

I’ve had regular clients who missed an appointment and never came back.

I don’t let myself think about that happening with Sam.

I would be devastated. He’s the one who keeps things at arm’s length between us.

“You know I’ll always come back to you.” He tenderly massages my shoulders.

I shouldn’t let myself light up at his words, but I do.

He chuckles, holding me to him with a firm, but comforting, grip.

“We got right to it this time. Tell me about your week. How’s the new roommate situation?” Sam asks.

Oh look, another perfect example of how I treat him differently than my other clients.

I don’t go past surface level with anyone except him.

It’s not like I immediately trusted him, but he’s been my client for three years.

That’s a lot of weekly sessions. He pats my hip, and I remember he asked me a question.

“Emerson? She’s good. Her daughter is adorable.

So damn cute, but I’ve learned kids don’t sleep in for shit,” I grumble, burrowing deeper into his shoulder.

No matter what his glamor looks like, he always smells exactly the same.

It’s a combination of gasoline and leather, which doesn’t sound all that appealing, but somehow, he pulls it off in a way that makes my thighs clench.

“The wolf pup is an early bird?” Sam asks, chuckling softly.

“Yeah, she seems to rise with the sun every damn morning. I honestly don’t know how Emerson does it.” I have serious doubts I could work late nights and be cheerful enough to greet my child by six a.m. But, I suppose, that’s one of those things you learn to adapt to when you procreate.

Emerson is human, but her daughter, Ember, is a wolf shifter. She’s almost two years old, but she’s smart and already talking up a storm.

“She’s all tangled up with my bosses. I can’t believe you haven’t heard about it,” I say nonchalantly, but truly, I’m baffled.

It’s been the talk of Haven lately.

“How do you feel about children?” I’m not sure if he’s just making small talk, or if he’s trying to redirect my not-so-covert question.

I shrug because he doesn’t like it when I lie to him—he can always tell—but I’m not sure that’s something I’m willing to discuss at the moment. I spend a lot of time creating birth control spells and even more time helping female monsters get pregnant.

I’m twenty-eight, and, unlike most supernatural creatures, witches don’t have prolonged lifespans. Nor are we immortal. There are certain spells and ways a witch can extend their life, but I don’t mess with that type of magic.

His fingers meet my chin, carefully tilting my face toward his. He nuzzles his cheek to mine, and I grunt. It’s hard to keep the lines between us firm when he’s tender. Aftercare is one thing. A swarm of bubbly butterflies in my stomach every time we make eye contact is another.

“Children?” he asks again.

“I don’t know.” I sigh. “I’d need a partner for that, wouldn’t I? I’m very single and have been for too many years to count.” My eyes squeeze shut at that admission. It’s frustrating to be emotionally vulnerable with someone who never extends the same courtesy.

“If I thought you could handle everything I need from you, then I would scoop you up and never leave,” he murmurs, kissing my cheek. “Until then, we’ll settle for these scraps of stolen moments.”

“You’re always so cryptic.” I push up on my knees to look at him. “If you could tell me what you need, that might be a good first step.”

“I have,” he says, laughing and shaking his head. “You weren’t ready to hear it, and I have doubts you ever will be.”

I frown so hard, I can feel my own forehead wrinkle. He’s frustrating as hell when he doesn’t speak plainly. “You’ve never?—”

“It’s that time, doll,” he says in the lower, gravelly tone that always comes when he uses that nickname for me.

I fight the urge to pout. I’ll see him again in a week, but that feels like forever. My chest gets tight, but I give him a forced smile and carefully climb out of his lap.

I aim for the hook where I left my robe and pull it on quickly.

“See you again soon.” His voice echoes from behind me. I shiver as he squeezes my hips, and then he’s gone.