Page 5 of Knotty Bargain (Monster Holidays #3)

CHAPTER 5

CORDELIA

W arm light streams through the curtains as I blink awake, my mind fuzzy and head throbbing dully from last night’s wine. Fumbling for my phone on the nightstand, I squint at the screen—10:47 am. Wow, I overslept.

There’s a text from Sylvia on the screen. From almost three hours ago.

Syl: mom roped me into helping at the store. busy month apparently, now the town is a halloween hub or something. pretty sure the wedding was just a ploy for me to work for free.

I chuckle, then squint at the screen as I type back an answer.

Cordelia: hey just woke up. you want some help there?

H er reply comes in seconds.

Syl: hell no. i love you too much to do this to you.

I snort, hauling myself out of bed with a groan. The circle is still intact. I can’t believe I managed to draw all this while drunk. I stumble to the bathroom to pee.

After showering, I put on comfy lounging clothes. It’s my first day of vacation in forever. There’s no way I’m dressing up. I tug on my pink velvet Juicy pants and an old tank top that reveals too much cleavage but has impressive support. My breasts are not small; comfort and support hardly go hand in hand in this category. I apply some oil to the tips of my blond hair, then lots of moisturizer on my face.

Back in bed, I grab my Kindle, eager to lose myself in a steamy romance and forget the world for a while. I’ve got a month of blissful hibernation planned, alternating between my bed and cafes, with a long Tbr list to go through.

From bed, I glance at the circle in the middle of the bedroom. Maybe I should clean that up first. Did Miranda see it in the morning? I should totally clean that up. It wouldn’t be the first time Miranda saw us doing this, but we’re almost thirty. We should have grown out of it.

I shoot to my feet again before getting too comfortable. My eyes fall on the strange fertility icon, lying sideways in the middle of the circle. One of us must have kicked it. I tilt my head, considering. In the light of day, the “fertility icon” looks an awful lot like a stone dildo.

I bite my lip, a flutter of arousal stirring in my core.

No . No, Cordelia, for fuck’s sake. There’s no way I’m thinking this.

But what if?

No. No, no, no . I don’t want to be one of those people who end up in the ER with a weird thing stuck inside them. I don’t want to come up with a ludicrous lie no one will believe. There’s no way I’m thinking about doing this.

But surely, if I sanitized it, and then lubed it up, it should be okay? I only have to be careful. Don’t put it too far up. It’s just that... The texture looks like it would feel so good. No human cock could ever feel like that.

Fuck it.

Rummaging in my toiletry bag, I pull out my bottle of lube. When was the last time I had a proper orgasm? Too damn long.

After sanitizing the icon as well as I can, I bury myself under the covers and kick my pants down. I squeeze the lube into my palm andslick up the stone cock. My clit tingles when I brush my fingertips over it. I press the icon against my entrance.

Oh, yes . I can feel the texture. I gasp as I slide it inside, my walls clenching greedily around the smooth, unyielding hardness. My toes curl in delight.

Slowly, I work it in and out, my arousal building with each deliberate stroke. I circle my clit, increasing the pace, then slowing it down. Teasing. Pleasure coils tighter and tighter in my belly as the icon seems to grow warmer against my flesh, pulsing with an uncanny heat.

I throw my head back against the pillow, hips lifting to meet each thrust, chasing my rapidly approaching peak. Pleasure lights up my nerve endings. That must be why the statue seems to vibrate ever so slightly.

With a sharp cry, I hurtle over the edge into ecstasy, my inner muscles spasming. Pleasure floods my mind. Gasping for breath, I pull the icon free and let it tumble to the bed.

That’s when I see it—the icon is glowing. My mind is fussy with aftershocks. I catch my breath, scowling.

The circle on the floor lights up.

“Oh, shit,” I gasp, yanking my pants back up. What’s happening? What’s happening?

With my fumbling, I kick the icon out of the bed. It rolls, covered in my arousal, to the center of the circle.Electricity arcs and pops. My jaw drops open in shock. My heartbeat skyrockets.

A massive clawed hand emerges from the center of the circle, followed by a muscular, red arm.

I want to scream. I tell myself to run. Frozen, I watch in mute horror as the hulking figure rises and rises, massive and absurd, wisps of shadows twining around an imposing frame.

Burning black eyes lock onto mine as a slow, wicked smile spreads across a sensuous mouth.

“Well, well,” the demon purrs, his voice dark as sin. “Looks like I’ve been summoned.”