Page 22

Chapter 21

The Stretchiness of Human Orifices

Jemma

“I t’s okay. I’m okay. I’m only going on a dinner date … to the most exclusive Italian restaurant in town … with the Son of Satan … who is a certified hottie demon shifter with horns and a tail … and who will have some sort of trick up his sleeve to make the night flipping woeful for me, and I just have to put up with it … but I’ll also want to climb him like a tree … what is wrong with me?”

Hot mess Jemma stared right back at me from the mirror as I frantically ran a brush through my wayward hair. “Why didn’t I make him tell me what the catch is going to be tonight?”

Because there was going to be a catch. Last time, it was his hounds becoming the worst sort of ferrety menaces. What twisted little scheme did he have in store for me tonight?

And why couldn’t I stop thinking about his hot, hard, devil dick poking my backside on Friday night? And how good it had felt to wriggle on him … and how much I’d enjoyed watching him desperately trying to act like he wasn’t loving every second of it.

I blew out a long breath and shucked off my clothes, running the shower. He might have a twisted scheme for me … but I had one for him, too.

He wanted me. It was clear to me that he was … stirred … whenever I was near. He took every opportunity to touch me, to hold me … to ensure his groin and mine were in very close proximity.

And it went beyond merely seeing my soul as his possession. At least, I was counting on it being more. God, I hoped it was more.

I plonked myself down on the floor of the shower with soap and a razor, lathering up and running the blades up my legs. I was going to make myself irresistible to him tonight.

Shag your way out of it, Bliss …

Only problem was, past making my legs and armpits silky smooth, I had no idea how to make myself irresistible. Cute and quirky? Absolutely my forte. Sexy bombshell?

Not so much …

So I scrubbed and I shaved and I washed my hair with my pink strawberry shampoo to make sure the colour was extra bright.

And then I wrapped up in my fluffy towel and scuttled to my bedroom. What the hell was I going to wear that would entice a Prince of Hell to do sordid romping type things with me … and hopefully enjoy it enough that I could barter more of the same for the return of my soul?

“Jem? You still in the bathroom?” Ezra called out, and there was a distant clatter of items being plonked into the fridge and onto the kitchen bench.

“Bedroom! And I need help!” I screeched, tugging dress after dress out of my wardrobe and throwing them willy-nilly around the room.

Too long. Too billowy. Too covered in (extremely adorable but not sexy in any way) gummy bears.

“Did a tornado come through here while I was gone?” Ezra asked from the doorway. I glared at him, looking all casually sexy in his black Henley shirt and beige slim-leg pants and loafers.

“Men have it so easy!” I snarled, turning back to my wardrobe. “Why is it so simple for you to look like you walked straight out of Paris Fashion Week?” I threw another dress on the bed—it had cats with toadstool hats on it, and that was so not the vibe I was going for.

“Where has this come from, Jem? What’s going on in that pretty pink head?”

Ezra’s soft, empathetic voice took just the teeniest sliver of the edge off my utter panic. I slumped onto the bed.

“I have to look good enough to eat tonight, Ez!” I sighed, sifting through the discarded pile of dresses beside me. All of which I loved to bits … and none of which felt special enough to seduce the Devil into giving me my soul back.

“What’s so important about … oh.” Ezra took another step into the room, toeing aside a vibrant purple swing dress. “Is tonight ‘the night’ with SJ?”

My heart leapt into my throat, but I nodded mutely. Gosh, I hated lying to Ezra so much, but it simply couldn’t be helped. Besides, it wasn’t really a lie. Tonight was ‘the night’ … just for very different reasons than people usually make the decision to have ‘the night’ with someone.

“Oh, sweetie, why are you overthinking this? I mean, I’ve never seen you with this guy …” The hint of hurt in his tone had me biting the inside of my cheek to keep from blurting out the truth right then and there. “But from what I’ve heard, and from what Humphrey might have seen on Friday night … well, I’m fairly confident that your man would be a sure thing if you showed up in that thrift shop T-shirt dress you bought last winter—the one with the weird coffee stain across one boob, and the holes in the armpit.”

I snorted out a wet little laugh at that. “I’m not that hard up for outfits … but I really just …” I took a deep breath to tell another massive lie. “I really, really like him, Ezra, and he’s taking me to Stella! I have to make tonight special!”

“OMFG Jemma! I know what you have to wear!” Ezra leapt from the bed and sprinted from the room, returning a moment later with a garment bag.

My eyes almost fell out of my head. “No … I can’t Ez! It’s too special!”

“You just said you wanted tonight to be special, so what better dress?” The zipper came down with a trill that had my nerves jangling, and he pulled the dress from the bag. My heart leapt into my throat.

“I always forget how beautiful it is!”

“And it’s sexy as hell, too,” Ezra confided, nudging the hanger towards me. “It screams ‘You’d be lucky to take me out of this dress’, not ‘I’m desperate for you to take me out of this dress’.”

I giggled wetly, forcing back the tears. “I wonder if that’s how Dad felt when he saw Mum in it?”

Ezra’s face softened. “He would have. I know he would. And SJ will, too. Your mum would want to know that you’re enjoying it.”

I held my breath, and, as if something might strike me down, I took the hanger from Ezra. “Okay. I’m going to wear it.”

Ezra grinned. “Perfect. Now, I’m gonna text Humphrey and tell him that I’ll cook for him at his place tonight.”

I was too busy admiring the dress, and feeling sentimental and sad, and missing my parents like hell, that his words didn’t immediately register. But then they did, and my head jerked in his direction.

“Wait. What?”

Ezra winked, tapping away at his phone. “If you’re planning ‘the night’ with SJ, then I don’t want either of you to feel weirded out about that by having me and Humphrey here. So, I’ll go to his, and you’ll have the place to yourself … and maybe we’ll both have ‘the night’ to remember tonight.” He flashed me a lopsided grin just as the whooshing sound of his text message disappeared into the ether.

Well, crap. I hadn’t thought about having to actually do the deed with SJ.

Well, that was a lie. I’d thought about it far, far too many times. Like last night, when I’d had one of the strongest orgasms of my life, imagining gripping those big black horns of his devil form while he … well, let’s just say we didn’t even get to the dick tricks because he had some serious oral game … in my imagination, anyway.

But what if this worked? And I brought him home? And then I had to actually … really, truly sleep with him …

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” I muttered, hoping my voice didn’t waver too much. My nerves were flooding back like a tidal wave, and that just wouldn’t do. I had to be seductress Jemma tonight. Complete with lucky undies, freshly laundered, and hair freshly curled, and makeup sultrier than I had ever worn before …

And the last dress my fashion designer mother had made before she died.

* * *

“Phwoar!”

I smacked my lips together once, ensuring the pink-tinted gloss was thoroughly coated before I turned.

“I thought Ezra was going to your house!” I squeaked at a smirking Humphrey.

“I came over to pick him up. Parking’s a bitch in my neighbourhood.” Humphrey’s eyes did a sweep of me from head to toe. “Speaking of bitches, you are the hottest one on the planet!”

“Umm, thanks, I think,” I managed, as the nerves threatened to swallow me whole once more.

He would be here soon. He would be here soon. What if he arrived by his creepy Hell portal thingy right into the middle of the apartment while Ezra and Humphrey were there? What if he … what if he wasn’t impressed by the effort I’d gone to? What if I was really just a soul he was vying for, and there was nothing more to the way he behaved around me …?

“He’s not going to be able to keep his hands off you,” Humphrey confided, leaning close and squeezing my arm. “Hell, I’d do you, and I’ve never once had even the slightest inclination towards girl-tits and lady-bits.”

I choked on a laugh, narrowly missing poking myself in the eye with my mascara wand in the process. “Well, it’s lucky for Ezra that you’re only interested in boy-tits and man-bits. Wouldn’t want him feeling like he has competition in me.”

“Who has competition?” Ezra’s head popped around the door, and the way his eyes widened shaved the edge off the nerves. The very tiniest shave.

“No one, you big sexy redhead! Now, vamoose, please, so I can finish getting ready without having my ego overinflated by you two.”

I went back to my makeup, but Ezra’s face appeared in the mirror behind me.

“You look so beautiful. That dress fits like it was made for you.”

“Don’t,” I blurted, grabbing a tissue and dabbing hurriedly under my eyes. “What is it with you and ruining my mascara?”

“I hope he’s worth it, Jem,” he murmured, giving my shoulders a squeeze. “The dress, and the makeup … and your heart. You deserve someone who’ll worship the ground you walk on.”

I swallowed around the rock in my throat, throwing a watery smile at my best friend. “I really think he is,” I lied. “Now, go, enjoy the night with your deserving man!”

Ezra grinned, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Oh, I will. And Jem … I stocked your bedside drawer with condoms.”

I sucked in air so fast I choked as Ezra chuckled and backed away. “Have fun … be safe. Love you.”

I managed a faint, “Love you, too,” and then he disappeared. A moment later, there was the quiet rumbling of them chatting, the rustling of shopping bags, and the scrape and clunk of the apartment door closing.

“What the flipping hell am I doing?” I mumbled faintly. The sultry stranger in the mirror, with the smoky eyes, the thick, dark lashes, and the shiny, kiss-me lips, had no answer for me.

And there was no time for an answer anyway, because the apartment flashed with heat, and suddenly Luci was dooking like crazy.

Oh God, I was about to hyperventilate. I stared at my pale, wide-eyed reflection and took three deep, calming breaths. And then three more. And another three … because it wasn’t a proper freak-out otherwise.

“Get a grip, Bliss! You want your soul back, you have to play him at his own little game,” I told myself firmly once I’d taken what felt like fifty more breaths. If I didn’t go out there, he was going to come looking for me. Which would be worse, I thought, than me having to make my legs work to go out there and face him.

So I made my silly, trembling legs move. Out of the bathroom, down the hall. I stopped in the laundry to find Luci climbing the bars of her cage, eyes wild and excited. Like she was anticipating a visit from her two new besties.

“Oh, Lulu, I don’t think they’re coming tonight.” I reached a finger through the bars, stroking her soft little nose, while I rummaged in the treat bin and grabbed one out for her. “I know this is a pretty crappy consolation, but it’s all I’ve got.”

She took the treat from me, but the death stare she gave me as she crunched on it was honestly terrifying enough that I felt like facing down SJ was the lesser of two evils.

I got up, heading back into the hallway. I’d left him to his own devices long enough. And how much mischief could the Prince of Hell get into in my living room with no supervision?

Quite a lot, as it turned out.

* * *

He took up the entirety of our two-and-a-half seater lounge, his legs sprawled out, one arm casually flung along the backrest. He was dressed—immaculately as always—in dark pants, shiny black shoes, and a grey buttoned shirt, the top buttons undone to hint at the muscular planes of his chest.

His hair was a gorgeous, pale quiff, artfully tousled. His angular jaw seemed tenser than normal, and his lips were pursed in a small (but annoyingly sexy) frown.

In one hand, he held a book. One of my books. Open to midway through. His eyes slid over the words, and his lips tilted further downwards. So immersed was he in the … story … that I didn’t think he’d noticed my arrival.

And then his long fingers moved, and I got a good glimpse at the cover.

“Oh my God, did you have to pick that one?”

SJ cocked an eyebrow, but his eyes didn’t leave the page, and it didn’t take me more than one guess to know why. Because the book he was reading—a paperback quite worn from multiple rereads—was Spit Roasted By The Shifter Triplets: A Smutty, Why Choose Monster Romance . And if he was reading from midway, he was definitely getting an education in just how dirty my tastes in reading material were.

“Is this what you meant when you referred to ‘why choose’ yesterday?” he asked, his voice a deep, cultured rumble. “I find myself … intrigued … by the mechanics of it, quite honestly.” He tilted his head to one side, as if reading the words from a different angle would help.

My makeup was set to melt off. “It’s … you need to suspend disbelief, to a certain extent.”

“Indeed,” was the dry reply as he raised his arm from the back of the lounge, licked his forefinger and flipped a page.

Heat pooled low in my belly. The casual stroke of his tongue over that finger should not be so enticing. But it was. Oh boy, was it ever!

“I am almost positive that a human female is not … stretchy … enough for the size of these males’ appendages. And two of them at once? In the same … orifice?”

I took umbrage at that. “Well, when you flip to a random page in the book, you don’t get the context!” I grouched, storming over and snatching the book from him, flipping it back a few pages, scanning the words. “If you read the whole scene, you know that they do a lot to prepare her for their size … they give her at least three orgasms with their mouths before they attempt any penetration … and then they use fingers first, and seriously, the size of their fingers is, well … and they also have mystical saliva that helps her to … hang on, how do you know about the stretching properties of human orifices?”

A hot, angry feeling coursed through me, and I snapped my eyes from the page to him. And any further accusatory words died in my throat.

He wasn’t lounging anymore. He sat, elbow on one knee, slack-jawed, as his eyes roved over every inch of me. His grey eyes glinted with silver. Hungry … longing …

All that hot anger sparked into something shivery, and tickly, and … NO, Jemma, you aren’t letting this devil in disguise give you the tummy tingles! It’s bad enough your lady bits are all in a tizzy over him, but if these feelings get any higher up your body … you’re in big trouble!

“You look … beautiful, Mouse,” he murmured hoarsely.

I was in big trouble.

He leapt to his feet, smacked his shin on the coffee table and hissed in pain, doubling over and clutching his leg.

A giggle burst out of me, thankfully breaking the fizzing feelings before they could work their way up from my stomach to my chest. “Well, I was nervous until you just behaved like a teenage boy on his first date.”

SJ straightened, that tight, slight frown back in place. “Are human males not supposed to compliment their females?”

I grinned. “Well, yes, but the experienced ones don’t do it while tripping over their own feet to try and fondle their date.”

He scowled. “I do not … fondle … human women!” But his eyes locked on my breasts, covered by narrow, gathered strips of pale pink tulle, held together by delicate silver chains crisscrossing my cleavage.

Shag your way out of it, Bliss …

“You don’t?” I purred, taking a step closer. His eyes snapped to mine.

“I don’t.”

“So …” I was close enough to run a finger down the line of buttons on his shirt. He coughed. I smirked. “You haven’t … experimented with other human women before? You know … tested the limits of our … stretchiness?”

My stomach flipped. Why the Hell had I asked that? I didn’t actually want to know the answer … did I?

But, too late now, the words were out there. My finger stilled on the button just below his shirt opening, and my gaze fell to that spot, suddenly unable to keep eye contact. I held my breath while waiting for his response.

You’ve got it bad, girl!

His hand, large, and so warm, enveloped mine, pressing it against his chest. Holy … his heart was beating a mile a minute.

Mine was, too.

“I have never touched a human woman …” he informed me.

I chanced a glance up at him. His expression was serious … earnest, even? His fingers caressed my knuckles, his thumb slipped under my palm. He was holding my hand.

I tingled.

What the Hell was going on here?

Remember what he wants from you …

I tugged my hand away from his and stepped back. “We should get going … we’re probably late for your reservation.”

His expression changed, closed down. His eyes darkened.

“Indeed.”

I swallowed as he opened one of his mystical, magical portal thingies, and took me by the arm to step into it.

I was suddenly filled with trepidation. Because that expression on his face, it was as if he were taking me to the gallows, and not to dinner.