Page 28

Chapter 27

Giant Softies and Sizeable Stiffies

SJ

W hen she’d finished her business and we climbed back into her bed, she turned away from me. Alright. So we were not going to discuss the most life-changing kiss of my existence. And we were very clearly not going for a reprise.

Disappointment flooded me as I gazed at the pink back of her head. But she was still sick.

My fault.

She’d likely come to her senses.

But then she squirmed her perfect buttocks backwards, until her back was against my front and grabbed my wrists, positioning my palms on her lower belly. “You’re better than any heat pack I’ve ever …” Her words broke off with a yawn.

“You need to sleep, Mouse.”

“You won’t leave?”

I inhaled the strawberry of her hair. “I won’t.”

“You promise you’re not going to sneak back to Hell as soon as I start snoring?”

I chuckled. “I don’t believe that you snore. But I told you, I’m here as long as you want me.”

“At least until morning.” She turned her head, grazing her cheek against my chest.

“And … if the electricity returns before then?” I asked, my stomach dropping at the thought.

“Stay until morning. Then we’ll talk.”

She fell silent after that. Sleeping.

But I couldn’t. She was so soft, and small, and delicate in my arms. And tonight was likely the only chance I’d ever get to hold her like this. In the morning, she would remember what I was to her, and what she was to me, and all of this would cease to matter.

“You know,” she slurred, rolling towards me, one hand pressing against my stomach, which dipped under her soft touch. “I haven’t believed in God for a very long time. I stopped when … after my parents … But if you’re real, doesn’t that mean that God … well, that He must be real, too?”

“She,” I corrected automatically. She gasped, and suddenly her eyes weren’t slitted with sleep.

“No! God’s a woman?”

I shrugged. “It’s true.”

She huffed, nibbling on her bottom lip. “Well, I hate her even more now!”

A shocked laugh burst out of me. “You hate Her? Until recently She didn’t exist to you!”

“Well, if she’s real, I have a few things to say to her! Like, what sort of God lets … what happened to my parents … happen? What kind of God lets lovely, innocent youngsters, like my art girls, suffer with cancer?”

I wrinkled my nose. “You’re preaching to the choir, Mouse. She’s universally hated down my way.”

“Well, you’re kind of enemies, aren’t you?” she mused, her fingers absently tracing circles on my stomach. I inhaled deeply for calm— she is not attempting seduction —but my wayward cock was not listening. It pressed against her soft hip, and her fingertips flexed, accidentally—on purpose? I couldn’t tell—grazing just under the waistband of my underwear.

“Centuries of bad blood run between the two kingdoms,” I explained gruffly, putting my hand over hers to still the teasing innocence of her fingers. “And in recent decades, the deviousness of Her little war games has … weakened us.”

She blinked, her eyes, big and guileless, fixed on mine. “Well, the last thing anyone would want would be for Hell to be weak.”

“Do I detect a hint of sarcasm?” I asked, my thumb finding the pulse point in her wrist. Her blood fluttered under my touch.

“I wonder why…” Her tone was teasing, but there was an undercurrent of distrust. Which I had unequivocally earned from her from the very first time we met.

I was beginning to realise that I wanted more than just distrust from her.

How stupid of me.

But I did feel a niggling sense of needing to defend my kingdom. Humans were woefully undereducated when it came to the history between the realms of Heaven and Hell.

“You must understand, Mouse, that there is an all-important balance. Without darkness, there is no light.” I hesitated to continue, but in the interests of honesty … “Without evil, there can be no good. That balance affects the Human Realm most of all.

“The fear of Hell has historically been an excellent deterrent for humans who are morally … lacking. The ones who would do any number of vile, depraved things, without the threat of eternal damnation.”

She wrinkled her nose, which made my chest ache to kiss her there. I refrained, just. “Don’t they all get automatic entry to Hell, anyway? Like … murderers, and … and paedophiles, and evil dictators?”

I gripped her fingers tighter, shaking my head. In the red glow from my skin, I watched as her face paled.

“They did, until … She … got wind of religions here in the Human Realm, offering salvation for those who repented for their sins. Since then, our supply of souls has been dwindling—do you know how many death-row prisoners, how many humans serving life sentences for their crimes, suddenly find God at the eleventh hour?”

She frowned. “So then … what happens to them?” she asked, her voice a tremor. But the stark wideness of her eyes told me she had already guessed.

“They are accepted into Heaven.” The words felt heavy on my tongue. “It is why for many years my … my father used to come up here, disguised as a human, to reap—to trick desperate humans into a contract for their eternal soul, in return for the thing they so desperately needed.”

She gnawed on her lip, her eyes darting between mine, and then dipping down, staring at where I had her hand captured against my chest. “And then you came up here with your FiendPay and your tasks. But why?” she lifted her face to mine, and my breath caught in my throat.

So beautiful. So brave. So inquisitive.

Inquisitiveness killed the imp …

“Why what?” I rumbled.

“Why add all the complexity of the repayment system? Why not just keep doing things the old-fashioned way?”

Ice threaded through my veins. I had to be honest. Didn’t I?

After all, it was her soul that I was toying with. My stomach twisted into a knot, but I pushed onwards with my dogged honesty.

“Do you recall me mentioning that the Soul Token was … filling with energy … when we had our sordid little bathroom meeting at Ratty-Man’s awful establishment?”

She grunted. “Seems that sordid meetings in bathrooms are becoming our thing.”

Our thing.

My brain turned into Hell Hound dung. A thing. That was ours. Together.

“But, yes, I remember,” she continued.

Remember what? my addled brain slurred. Oh yes, the Soul Token, and how I’m using her …

“Well, when a … when a devil reaps a soul, it can be years … decades even, before that human’s life ends. Years before their soul descends to sustain the demons. And because of the lax entry requirements for Heaven, the demons are?—”

“Starving,” she finished, her voice low. “And the energy in the Token?” Her head pressed against my chest like she couldn’t bear to look at me while she asked her next question.

“Is my energy feeding them right now?”

I was the worst sort of monster.

“No,” I grated. “It’s not. It’s still in the Token, and the Token never leaves me.” I swallowed hard around that lie—it was tucked inside the pocket of my ruined trousers on the floor of her bathroom. But I was not going to admit that to her because I was not prepared to leave this bed … to leave her … to fetch it.

And why is that, SJ? Might it be that you are finding being with her to be much more enjoyable than breaking her?

I needed that little voice to shut up.

“Why did you say your father used to come up here? Did he pass that job onto you?”

“Not as such.” A growl rumbled deep in my chest at the mention of my father. She felt it, gasping and pulling back from me.

“He decided to go into semi-retirement. No one was bringing any souls to Hell for a long time, and the small trickle that comes to us naturally is not enough. It has not been enough for years now.” I sighed, my breath fanning her hair. “There were … there were riots, and my sister?—”

“You have a sister?” She gaped up at me.

“Yes, and she’s about as delightful as your brother,” I explained, not wanting to get bogged down in the details of my fraught relationship with Hellen. “My sister got in our father’s ear that someone needed to step up. She thought he would pick her—she’s very … Hellish … but he commanded me to find a quick solution to feeding the demons … and bringing more souls to Hell.”

“And how did you feel about that?” she asked, her little fingernails digging into my stomach.

I cleared my throat roughly, emotion welling up in it. “I’ve never … no one has ever asked me that before. I’ve barely even asked myself.” I shifted, wrapping my arms around her. “I suppose … well, it’s my birthright. The line passes down through the male offspring. I have no choice in the matter, so my feelings mean nothing.”

Her eyes appeared almost purple in the glow from my skin. “That’s sad … because you seem …” She broke off, and the tip of her nose tickled my sternum. I sucked in a breath as she continued, “Everyone deserves a choice in how they live their lives.”

“The world doesn’t always work out the way we deserve it to, though, does it Mouse?” I asked quietly, and, because I was a weak, sentimental devil, I brushed my lips against the crown of her head. She squeaked against my chest, and I clutched her closer to me as warm, wet tears spilled from her onto me.

My fault.

I could do nothing but hold her and think about how her life had certainly not worked out as she deserved. Her parents, her awful brother, the Ratty-Man and his betrayal … and now me.

She reached between her cheeks and my chest to swipe away the tears. “It’s nice, this truce.” She yawned widely. “Even if we go back to our war over my soul in the morning, at least now I know that deep down you’re really a giant softie, who’s forced to put on an evil persona to match that big, sexy devil body.”

I barely dared to breathe at those words as she shifted until her back was facing me. I splayed my palms over her abdomen, making sure I was heating up the largest surface area possible.

“Mmm,” she mumbled, snuggling closer to me. “I’d give anything to be this warm every night.”

I wanted to tell her that I’d give anything to be able to have this every night. That places deep within that I’d thought frozen were coming alive because of her.

But she was already still, her breaths deep and even, emitting soft snores, just like she’d promised she would.

My eyelids drooped, and I drifted into sleep with a smile on my face.

* * *

They were back.

The pair of spicy girls with their feisty attitudes … and their nipple mouths.

This time, though, the nipples were, if possible, even more perfect. Plumper, rosier. My dream mouth watered to suck them, to run my tongue along them until they glistened with saliva.

“Oi! You horny git!” the darker-skinned spicy girl snapped. “This isn’t a sex dream!”

“It’s not?” I couldn’t take my eyes off the jiggling nipple mouth. I licked my lips.

“No, are you barmy?” the red-head added. “How hard up are you, anyway, getting a sodding stiffy with nothing more to look at than a pair of nipples? Not even the tits to go with them!”

I glanced down, mortified as my dream-body, clad in my black underwear, was indeed, sporting a sizeable stiffy. It protruded from the waistband, the head already glistening.

And I realised, immediately, and with a violent throb of my aching cock, that the nipples looked different because I had seen them now. Attached to their breasts … and those breasts attached to a naked Jemma Bliss, her body still damp from her shower, her towel dropped accidentally to the floor.

Her nipples were even more perfect than the ones my brain had previously concocted. I ran my hand over my shaft.

“None of that!” Dark Spicy’s nipple vibrated wildly, her eyebrows furrowed with fury. “Have you changed your plans, then, with the little human?”

My brows furrowed now, but with incomprehension. “I … I don’t know what you ? —”

“Oh, come off it!” Red Spicy huffed. “You’re either going to keep fighting to steal her soul, or you’re gonna leave off, let her be … maybe even … woo her?”

“What? Woo her? Are you insane?” I backed away from them, but this was a dream, so no matter how far I moved, they were still directly in my face, those jutting nipples right at licking height.

“Ah, methinks the plonker doth protest too much!” Red Spicy chuckled. “He can’t stop thinking about her. It used to be just horny thoughts … but now …” She floated closer until her nipple mouth tickled my top lip. “Now there’re all these swoony ones going on in there, too!”

The pair of them cackled while I heated with shame. A devil lusting after a human was one thing—at least lust was to be expected from our kind. A devil daydreaming about romantic dates and chatting deep into the night—without even fucking first for badness’ sake—and caring for her, protecting her … wanting more for her … with her …

What was happening to me?

Their cackles ceased as abruptly as they had begun, leaving behind a ringing silence that had my stomach dropping.

“This is your last warning, Son of Satan.” Dark Spicy’s voice boomed deep, reverberating around the sudden swirling darkness of the dream. “There is a fork in the road … and only one path leads away from ruin …”

“Wait! Which path?” I demanded, but their faces faded, leaving only those perfect, plump nipples floating once more …

* * *

I woke with a gasp, my chest doing this odd, frantic thumping. My cock doing something similar, tenting the blankets. The dream had left me in a very uncomfortable combination of wildly aroused and overcome with dread. I would not be returning to slumber any time soon.

The room was dark, save for my infernal glow. Jemma, still fast asleep, was sprawled across her side of the bed, one leg kicked out of the blankets. Her hair was a wild tangle around her head, and she was, indeed, snoring quite enthusiastically.

The panicked pounding eased as I gazed down at her. She was here. She was safe. She hadn’t died from my attempt to poison her with gluten (I still wasn’t entirely sure what gluten was, but clearly Alessio had been very well versed).

I’d conceded another task to her. Which meant there was only one more for her to win … and then the final one … for her to lose.

The thudding returned with a vengeance. Was this the fork in the road? I could continue with my plan and reap her soul at the end of this … or I could choose to let her win that final task … win her soul back from me. And look like a failure in the eyes of my father, and my sister … and the entire population of Hell …

Ugh. I did not wish to spend this night—likely the only one I would ever spend in a bed with Jemma Bliss—pondering my own folly and the potential doom of one … or maybe both of us. So I eased myself from the bed and tiptoed down the hall and into the living room. My own glow was enough to scan her bookshelf until I finally found the title she had directed me to earlier. What better distraction than the monster pornography she called literature?

Slipping it from the shelf, I crept back to her, sliding under the covers, tucking her in with me. I opened Devirginised By The Devious Devil and began to read.