Page 14 of Summoning Mr. Wrong (Hotter than Hell #1)

I woke hours later to the feeling of heat—not uncomfortable, but intense, like lying next to a banked fire. Deus was still beside me, but now his arm was draped over my waist, his face pressed against the back of my neck. He was radiating warmth even more than usual.

I shifted slightly, and his arm tightened around me. “Sorry,” he murmured against my skin. “Did I wake you?”

“You’re really hot,” I said, then clarified, “Temperature-wise, I mean.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against my back. “Side effect of being in this realm too long without… release.”

“Release?” I turned to face him, now fully awake. “What kind of release?”

In the dim light filtering through my curtains, I could see his eyes glowing brighter than normal, the amber almost golden. The tattoos on his chest and arms were moving more rapidly than usual, swirling patterns that seemed almost agitated.

“Energy builds up,” he explained, his voice rougher than normal. “Usually I’d discharge it through various means—specific rituals, returning briefly to my realm. But being bound here by the contract limits my options.”

“Is it dangerous?” I asked, concerned.

“Not dangerous, just… uncomfortable. Like an itch under the skin.”

“Can I help?” I offered, not entirely selflessly. The heat radiating from him was doing interesting things to my body, especially given our proximity.

His smile was slow and predatory. “There are ways. If you’re willing.”

“I’m willing,” I said quickly, perhaps too quickly given his knowing laugh.

“Eager, even,” he observed, his hand sliding down to cup my ass and pull me closer. “I like that about you, Julian. You may overthink everything else, but when it comes to pleasure, you’re refreshingly straightforward.”

I should have been embarrassed, but it was hard to feel anything but arousal with his body pressed against mine, his erection evident through the thin fabric of his boxers.

“How does it work?” I asked, my hands already exploring the firm planes of his chest. “This energy release?”

“Sexual energy is the simplest conduit,” he said, his fingers slipping beneath my t-shirt to trace patterns on my bare skin. “Though not the only one. The ancients understood this better than modern humans—the connection between sex and supernatural energy.”

“Is that why so many old rituals involved orgies?” I asked, genuinely curious despite the distraction of his wandering hands.

He laughed. “Partly. Though mostly humans just like having excuses for orgies.”

His mouth found mine in a kiss that started gentle but quickly deepened into something hungrier, more urgent. His tongue traced the seam of my lips, demanding entrance, which I gladly granted. He tasted like cinnamon and something darker, something that made my head spin.

As we kissed, his hands continued their exploration, pushing my shirt up to expose my chest. When we broke for air, he tugged the shirt over my head entirely, then quickly removed his own boxers. I followed suit, kicking mine off under the covers.

Now we were skin to skin, his supernatural heat against my human coolness, creating a delicious contrast. His tattoos were moving faster now, some of them seeming to leap from his skin to mine where we touched, creating temporary patterns that tingled and burned in the best possible way.

“The tattoos,” I gasped as one swirled around my nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. “They’re—ah!—more active.”

“Part of the energy,” he explained, his voice strained. “They’re attracted to you.”

His mouth moved down my neck, leaving a trail of kisses that seemed to burn pleasantly. When he reached my collarbone, he bit down gently, then soothed the spot with his tongue. I arched into him, my hands clutching at his shoulders.

“What do you want, Julian?” he asked, his breath hot against my skin. “Tell me how to please you.”

The directness of the question, combined with the intensity of his gaze, made me momentarily speechless. In my limited sexual experience, partners had rarely asked so explicitly.

“I want…” I swallowed, gathering courage. “I want you inside me.”

His eyes flared brighter, the amber turning almost gold. “Are you sure? We didn’t do that last time.”

“I’m sure,” I said, more confident now. “I want to feel you. All of you.”

He groaned, burying his face in my neck. “You have no idea what you do to me when you say things like that.”

His hand moved between us, wrapping around both our erections, stroking slowly. The friction was exquisite, made better by the slight roughness of his palm and the heat radiating from his skin.

“Do you have supplies?” he asked, still moving his hand in that maddeningly perfect rhythm. “Lube, condoms?”

“Drawer,” I managed, nodding toward the nightstand. “Though I’m not sure you need condoms, being… you know.”

“Better safe than sorry,” he said with a wink. “Some supernatural STIs would really ruin the mood.”

Before I could process that disturbing thought, he was reaching for the drawer, retrieving the half-empty bottle of lube I kept there. I hadn’t had occasion to use it with a partner in far too long, but some lonely nights called for extra assistance.

“Roll over,” he instructed gently. “On your stomach.”

I complied, suddenly nervous despite my eagerness. It had been a while, and Deus was… well, proportionally blessed.

“Relax,” he murmured, as if sensing my anxiety. “I won’t hurt you. Quite the opposite.”

He started with a massage, his strong hands working the tension from my shoulders and back.

Gradually, his touches became more intimate, moving lower, tracing the curve of my spine down to my ass.

By the time his lubed finger circled my entrance, I was completely relaxed, practically melting into the mattress.

“Good?” he asked as he slowly pressed one finger inside.

“Yes,” I breathed, pushing back against his hand. “More.”

He took his time, working me open with careful patience, adding a second finger only when I was pleading for it. The burn of the stretch was quickly replaced by pleasure as he found my prostate, making me gasp and clutch at the sheets.

“There we go,” he said with satisfaction. “Found it.”

He continued his methodical preparation, adding a third finger, stretching and scissoring until I was a writhing mess beneath him, begging incoherently for more.

“Please, Deus,” I gasped, beyond pride or self-consciousness. “I’m ready. I need you.”

“Since you ask so nicely,” he said, his voice tight with restraint. I heard the sound of a condom wrapper tearing, then felt the blunt pressure of his cock against my entrance.

He pushed in slowly, giving me time to adjust to each inch. The stretch was intense, bordering on too much, but he paused whenever I tensed, murmuring encouragement and praise.

“So perfect,” he groaned as he finally bottomed out. “You feel incredible, Julian.”

I felt impossibly full, stretched to my limit around him. For a moment, we stayed perfectly still, both adjusting to the sensation. Then he began to move, shallow thrusts that gradually deepened as I relaxed around him.

The tattoos on his skin were going wild now, extending onto my back where he touched me, creating patterns of pleasure that seemed to sink beneath my skin.

The sensation was unlike anything I’d ever experienced—part physical, part something else, something that felt almost like energy flowing between us.

“What’s happening?” I gasped as a particularly intense wave of pleasure washed through me.

“Energy transfer,” he grunted, his pace increasing. “Just let it happen. It won’t hurt you.”

It definitely wasn’t hurting. Quite the opposite. Each thrust sent dual waves of pleasure through me—the physical sensation of him hitting my prostate, and this new, strange energy that seemed to light up every nerve ending.

He shifted our position slightly, pulling me up onto my hands and knees for better leverage. The new angle let him go deeper, harder, each thrust now hitting exactly the right spot. I dropped my head between my arms, overwhelmed by sensation.

“Look at you,” Deus said, his voice rough with desire. “Taking me so perfectly. Like you were made for this.”

His praise sent another spike of pleasure through me. One of his hands moved from my hip to wrap around my neglected erection, stroking in time with his thrusts. The dual stimulation was almost too much.

“Deus,” I warned, feeling the familiar tightening at the base of my spine. “I’m close.”

“Good,” he growled, his pace becoming more erratic. “Want to feel you come around me.”

It took only a few more strokes before I was crying out, coming harder than I ever had in my life. My entire body seemed to light up from the inside, the orgasm intensified by whatever supernatural energy was flowing between us.

As I clenched around him, Deus’s rhythm faltered. He thrust once, twice more, then stilled deep inside me with a sound that was almost a roar. I felt a surge of heat, impossibly hot, as he came.

For a moment, the tattoos on his skin glowed with actual light, bright enough to illuminate the darkened room. The patterns extending onto my skin glowed too, creating a bizarre but beautiful web of light that connected us.

Then it was over, the glow fading, leaving us both panting in the dimness. Deus carefully pulled out, dealing with the condom before collapsing beside me on the bed. I rolled onto my side, too boneless to do more than that.

“Holy shit,” I managed after a moment. “Was that… normal?”

Deus laughed weakly. “For demon sex? Pretty standard. For human sex? Probably not.”

“The light show was… unexpected.”

“Energy discharge,” he explained, pulling me against his chest. His skin was still hot, but less intensely so than before. “Think of it like a pressure valve releasing.”

“So I’m basically a supernatural pressure valve?” I asked, amused despite my exhaustion.

“A very sexy, very effective pressure valve,” he confirmed, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Feel honored. Not many humans get to experience that.”

I should have felt used, I supposed. But strangely, I didn’t. Instead, I felt… special. Chosen, even. Which was probably dangerous thinking when it came to demons, but in my post-orgasmic haze, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

“We should clean up,” I murmured, already feeling sticky and uncomfortable.

“In a minute,” Deus said, his arms tightening around me. “Just… stay like this a little longer.”

There was something in his voice, a vulnerability I hadn’t heard before, that made me acquiesce despite my discomfort. We lay there, tangled together, his heartbeat slowing under my ear.

Eventually, he roused himself enough to retrieve a washcloth from the bathroom, gently cleaning both of us before returning to bed. This time when he pulled me against him, I went willingly, fitting myself against his side like I belonged there.

“Better?” I asked, noticing that his tattoos had returned to their normal, slower movement.

“Much,” he confirmed, his fingers idly tracing patterns on my back. “Thank you.”

“Pretty sure I should be thanking you,” I said with a sleepy laugh. “That was… intense.”

“It was,” he agreed, his voice thoughtful. “More so than I expected.”

I wanted to ask what he meant by that, but exhaustion was pulling me under again. The last thing I remembered before sleep claimed me was Deus murmuring something in a language I didn’t recognize, his arms secure around me like he never intended to let go.