Page 42 of Demon
I shook my head, as if saying the names would summon them, like a teenage ghost story.
“It’s done, Demon. And I’m working hard to forget it. I’d like it to stay that way.”
“Fine,” he whispered. “Fine. If you won’t tell me, that’s fine. But what you will do is stay with me tonight.”
I opened my mouth, the complaint just about to leave my lips, but instead his lips stopped it, smashing against my mouth and taking that thought right from me. The kiss caught me off guard, deep and powerful and desperate. But I knew what game he was playing. I knew he was trying to distract me, so that I’d agree to stay at his house, wherever the fuck that was, just because he’d screwed with my brain. Or my insides or both. No. Not today. Mostly because I was due to start my shift in ten minutes.
Something pushed against my back, and suddenly I realised he’d walked me backwards, and now I was stuck between a Demon and a dressing table. I pushed my hands against him, inside the leather jacket and against the hardened wall of muscle that was stopping me stepping out from under him. My fingers trailed the ripples of his stomach, moving unintentionally, but travelling lower all the same, and as I reached his waistband, sliding behind the tightness of the thick leather belt, he groaned against me.
Demon wrapped his arms around me, picking me up and propping me onto the old dressing table behind, the wooden creaking under my weight and wobbling as he crushed his body against mine, yanking the towel free. His head tipped forwards, not working down my neck but lurching straight for my breasts, grabbing the flesh in one hand, and covering my nipple with his mouth. He sucked hard, his fingers digging into the surrounding flesh at the same time. I should hate it. I should hate the ferocity that his lips pulled at my nipple, at the hard pressure his mouth made, but the heat raging through my body and pooling between my legs said otherwise. I gasped, letting my head fall back against the mirror.
Demon nudged my legs apart, his lips never leaving my nipple, his other hand grabbing, kneading and squeezing as he moved in closer, his denim covered erection dragged against me. Heat spiked in my pussy, hot and prickling, and I tipped my hips a little closer, moving against the tough material.
“That’s it, darlin’,” he grumbled against my breast, vibrations wracking through me. “You gonna work yourself up nice and wet for me?”
His other hand dropped from my other boob, sliding down my stomach, cupping over the apex between my legs, his finger sliding through my folds.
“You’re so fucking wet, Ciara. Wet enough just to slide straight in.”
“Not here, Demon. The girls. They’ll be in any minute,” I gasped as the fingers suddenly thrust inside of me, a bolt of fire jolting through me, and I pushed myself against his hand. The motion involuntary. A carnal movement.
“I’m going to fuck you here, Ciara. And if anyone walks in, they can watch as I tear up this tight, wet cunt of mine.”
He slid his fingers out, fussing suddenly at his waist, and then I heard the metallic rasp of his zip. Pushing towards me, he forced the thick head of his cock between my legs, his eyes dropping to watch as he speared me on the end.
“I’m not yours, Demon.” He edged in further, the thickness forcing my flesh apart, and no amount of slick pooling from me would ever get me used to that initial assault of his dick.
“Shssh, darlin’. Just take it.”
“I’m not your old woman, Demon,” I breathed the words out, heat searing between my legs.
“Old lady. It’s called an old lady,” he answered through clenched teeth.
“That. Just cos we’ve had sex….”
“Having, Ciara. We’re having sex.”
“Aye. Whatever, Demon. Just because we’re fucking doesn’t make me your old lady.”
“Fucking shut up, Ciara. This,” he pushed in harder, the width of his cock prizing me open, filling my flesh with a delicious burn. My head lolled back against the mirror. “This pussy is mine. It’s only ever wet for me. And it takes me so well. It takes every inch of me, milking my cock and forcing me to tear it fucking up.”
He thrust hard. One last, long, hard push, scraping my insides. The strangled cry tumbled from my mouth. And this time there was no waiting for my insides to settle around him. Tearing me apart was exactly his intention.
The dressing table rocked with us, hammering the wall behind, followed by my back and shoulders as they were smashed against the mirror with each urgent, chaotic movement of Demon’s hips. I let my head roll backwards, my eyes half closing, the heat swelling where his cock filled me.
From my left, I heard the snigger.
Chapter Twenty
Demon
I followed the motion of her head, catching the two bodies stood watching us, hearing the sniggers as they whispered between themselves.
“Fuck off!” I growled in their direction, and although I stared straight at them, I didn’t stop fucking the girl taking my cock on the dressing table in the strip club dressing rooms. It couldn’t have got seedier than that. And I fucking loved it.
The girls stood for a moment or two longer, watching me with wide eyes. I didn’t look away, my hips moving, my shaft in and out of Ciara’s tight cunt. Then they giggled again, darting out through the doors. Tez would have a fit. I was taking up the girls’ time. But I didn’t fucking care. I was the son of the president of one of the biggest motorcycle clubs in the North East of England. If I wanted to fuck my girl in his club, then this club, this pussy, was fucking mine to do so.
The thought roamed my brain, as hot as the balls slapping against Ciara. She’d seen the girls too, but by her glazed look and the way she bit down on her lip, she was too close to the edge to care. I should have made her come while they watched. Fuck. I thrust harder, ramming my entire length as far into her as I could get. She whimpered. A beautiful, half pained sound. And that sent another surge of electricity through me.