Page 25 of Demon
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
But she did. Her hips rising to meet mine each time, pushing me deeper, her moans turning to cries as I moved in and out of her. Faster now, her pussy juices soaking me, letting me drive deeper.
“Oh fuck, Demon!”
Her voice had changed. A note higher, a note closer to coming. And this time when I drew out, I forced myself in, hard and fast, pushing as far into her as I could get. She screamed, like she was hurting.
“You OK?” I asked through gritted teeth, willing myself to slow down.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Don’t stop, Demon. Harder. Hurt me. Please?”
This girl was crazy. Much crazier than I’d given her credit for. But I didn’t think she really knew what she was asking. I’d show her. I kissed her hard again, a half apology, pulling out and then plunging back in, hard and fast, over and over. She screamed and yelled, her words turning to a language I couldn’t even understand, but it was beautiful, enthralling. I worked harder, bottoming out, the pressure inside of me reaching boiling point. Did I really want to give over to this now? She might never let me do this again. And this was fucking incredible. Her hips met every thrust, taking everything from me, never letting go as I plunged deeper and deeper, an unbearable heat hitting me in my stomach. I was going to come, any second.
Reaching between us, I swirled over her clit, driving hard inside her.
“I need you to come, Ciara,” I growled into the side of her, my lips sucking at her neck, my fingers plucking and rubbing at the sensitive nub as I moved into her with long, hard, ferocious strokes.
“Fuck!” she screamed, high pitched and loud, her legs wrapping around me, shaking against me, her whole body erupting in tiny convulsions. Beautiful.
Then I let my hips go wild, thrusting, and fucking, like it was the best sex I’d ever had. It was. She was perfect. This cunt was perfect. My balls clenched, my dick pulsed, and I held myself inside her, balls deep in the best pussy I’d ever had.
“Fuck,” I groaned into her ear, lying on top of her breathless.
For a moment, I couldn’t move. My heart was racing, threatening to break right out through my ribs and fucking off to God knows where. Ciara lay underneath me, her fingers stroking through my hair, her own breaths coming down from a dramatic crescendo. For a moment I closed my eyes, the gentle strokes of fingertips unfamiliar, contradicting what I’d just done to her. I’d meant to hurt her, driving in so deep that she couldn’t differentiate pain from pleasure, all so I could take mine from her. And now I lay there, my cock still in her pussy, the last remnants of my hard-on fading away, and she stroked my hair.
Propping myself up, with my elbows on either side of her head, I gazed down at her. Down at the warm-brown eyes and thick brown hair splayed out on the mattress underneath her. At the peaks of her cheekbones and the angry scar on one of them. Sliding my hand under her jaw, I glanced at my fingers against her skin, watching as her eyes fluttered closed for a few seconds. My thumb trailed up her chin, and she smiled. It was tired, faint, but it pulled into those beautiful smile lines I’d seen just once before, softening her perpetually angry, but hot-as-fuck stare.
Kissing her, savouring the moment when we were not arguing, no fighting, just exhausted come down. Then I slid out of her, Ciara’s face contorting slightly, wincing.
“I’m sorry darlin’,”
“I’m ok, Demon. You’re just…big. I’m not used to it.”
“I can help you get used to it.”
She smiled again, the smile lines deepening, almost creating dimples in her cheeks, but not quite. I wanted there to be an again, desperately. She was stunning outside and in. My thumb drew up her face, brushing over the scar on her cheek, the edges rough, even against the rough pads of my thumb. Ciara drew in a breath.
“How did you get this?” I asked, staring down at her.
Her teeth raked her bottom lip, the sudden rush of confliction washing across her face.
“Someone cut me,” her voice was just a whisper, as if she couldn’t say the words any louder and suddenly there was a knot in my stomach, anger rushing back.
“Who?”
“Just someone I upset.”
“And where is that someone now?”
“Hopefully nowhere near here.”
A hint of fear sparked in her eyes. I wanted to know more. I wanted the name of the fucker who had hurt her and if he was still alive, I’d change that. But right now was not the time. Later. I’d get that name.
I rolled over onto the mattress, a disgruntled squeak of springs under my weight. I’d seen inside her place before, but now, in the murky daylight, it really was a hovel. The bed was knackered. It sagged in the middle, and I could tell it doubled up as her settee by the line of fluffy cushions positioned all along the wall.
The tiny bench wasn’t even enough to call itself a kitchen, and it looked like she lived out of a microwave most of the time. That was when she ate, judging by the size of her. I couldn’t see a bathroom, only a sink. The curtains were half falling off the curtain rail, which was falling off in places itself and the black mould clung to the wallpaper, more evident in the corners where damp had taken up residence with her.
I should find her somewhere else, somewhere safer. I had all sorts of contacts, not to mention people who owed the club favours. Yet even though I didn’t know her all that well, what I did know was that she wouldn’t thank me for meddling. Moving her somewhere else was a fight for another day. What wasn’t though, was getting this car fixed.