Page 16 of Prince of Demons (Demon’s Mark #2)
Georgia blinked at his care. He was treating her like she was made from spun glass. This nearly eight-foot monster, who’d murdered a man in front of her with no remorse, was being gentler with her than anyone before him.
He sank to a knee in front of her to dry her shoulders, collarbones, arms. Warm fingers wrapped around her wrist and brushed over her palm, setting her skin alight with a weird, tingling sensation before he methodically dried each of her individual fingers, then reached for her other hand.
The black-red scales covering his large fingers were surprisingly soft, though the visual contrast between them and her smooth, pale skin was startling.
“Do you have kids?” She blurted the question before she could stop herself, because an insane image of the giant brute packing lunches and singing lullabies flashed through her hazy brain. Possibly because his gentleness reminded her of how her mother had cared for Larry, before Mike left.
The demon paused with her hand in his. Even through the towel, his body heat warmed her skin. “No.” He flashed her a look she couldn’t decipher—probably stunned disbelief she would ask him that. “Do you?”
“No. Just my brother.”
He exhaled a soft breath, but only returned his focus to drying her off.
Georgia frowned as she stared at his horned head. “Would it have mattered? If I did?”
“You mean, would I have let you go?” His tone was oddly flat, but she was quickly distracted from the oddity of that when he brushed the towel back up to her breasts.
Her nipples tightened at the first touch of the fabric, and she drew in a sharp breath when he cupped them to dry underneath.
Images from their time in his bed flashed uninvited through her mind—of his head between her legs and the feeling of his horns in her hands.
“Your life before you came to me doesn’t matter. No, Breeder, a human child would not circumvent your fate. Nothing will.” He released her breasts and swiped the towel lower, drying her sides and stomach without so much as glancing up at her.
She knew those words should be chilling—and they were.
He was a merciless killer, a monster of nightmares, and while he hadn’t spelled out what he wanted with her, there wasn’t a lot of subtlety in the way he kept calling her ‘Breeder’.
She would need to figure out how to escape his clutches once she had enough strength to do so—and preferably before he got over the apparent belief that she was too fragile for the necessary activities needed to implant his hell-spawn.
However, with her head already swimming and his warm hands reminding her of how much pleasure this particular monstrous nightmare could inflict, it was hard to keep a firm grasp on anything but the way her skin heated the further south that towel traveled.
There’s something seriously wrong with you, Georgina.
But he was so gentle, and she was so... So incredibly tired of being scared all the time.
She’d spent her life fearing the demons and what they might do if she fell into their claws.
And now she had, and it had nearly ended up worse than she had ever imagined, even in the darkest of moments.
The Prince of Demons was the most terrifying creature she’d ever seen, but right now, when she allowed the dizziness to swallow her fears for just a few seconds…
He reached the apex of her thighs and, pausing only for a fraction of a second, rubbed the towel through her pubic hair.
Georgia exhaled sharply as every nerve ending below her navel came alive.
The demon grunted at the sound, and she had the wild thought that he, too, was remembering how he’d sucked her energy.
When his nostrils flared and a shudder went through his powerful body, her heart slammed into overdrive.
Every lewd image of his feeding rushed through her brain, and instead of filling her with horror, it sent a rush of blood to her pelvis.
Her clit throbbed with her rapid pulse, the metal confines around the sensitive nub making her feel every drum of it deep into her bones.
For a long, agonizing moment, neither of them moved.
The prince inhaled again, deeper, and a soft sound she wasn’t sure he even realized he was making rumbled out of his chest. And then the towel was on her mound again, the pressure firmer this time, and right against her clit.
“Ooh.” She was only half aware of the moan escaping her, all her focus snapping to the sensation of touch at the center of her being. She didn’t realize she’d spread her thighs for him until the pressure shifted and the soft towel rubbed deep through her cleft, all the way to her entrance.
And again. He swept back, applying pressure to her clit and tugging gently at the metal ring there until her toes curled, then rubbed through her spread labia to her opening, pushing against it for just a moment before he repeated the whole thing over again. And again.
Fuck, why did it feel so good? Her exhausted muscles did their best to rally as the promise of release tightened low in her abdomen with every pass of that wicked towel. She needed this, God, she needed it. Just a bit more pressure, just—just a bit more.
Mindlessly, she pressed back against the prince’s hand, too desperate for the pleasure he was rubbing into her throbbing clit to pay her shaking legs any mind. A mistake she only realized when her jellied thigh muscles decided enough was enough and gave out.
Georgia yelped and flailed for purchase, fingers grabbing onto the prince’s horns at the same moment as strong hands tightened on her hamstrings, keeping her from falling on her ass.
“Crap.” It was a low mutter, and when she glanced down, dark frustration was painted over the demon’s harrowing features. He eased her weight back onto her feet and released his grip on her, moving away. Clearly intending to stop the depravities before they went any further.
She didn’t pause to think. Growling with the need to fucking come, she yanked him back by the horns and forced his mouth to her clit.