Page 7 of Summoning Mr. Wrong (Hotter than Hell #1)

In my bedroom, I leaned against the closed door, trying to get my heartbeat under control. What was happening to me? I couldn’t be attracted to Deus. He was a demon. A supernatural being with unknown motives who had barged into my life uninvited.

A supernatural being with incredible cooking skills, a surprising talent for fixing things, and an annoying habit of being right about people.

I changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt, trying to sort through my conflicting feelings. When I emerged, Deus was in the kitchen, two glasses of wine already poured.

“Figured you could use this,” he said, sliding one toward me. “Bad dates call for good alcohol.”

“Where do you keep getting this wine?” I asked, accepting the glass. “I know I didn’t buy it.”

“I have my ways.” He clinked his glass against mine. “To dodging bullets disguised as doctors.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “You’re terrible.”

“Demon,” he reminded me with a wink. “It’s literally in the job description.”

We ended up on the couch again, the wine loosening my tongue and lowering my defenses. Deus put on some movie I barely paid attention to, my mind still circling around the question of why he seemed so invested in my love life.

“So what happened with your last relationship?” Deus asked during a lull in the film.

I considered deflecting but found myself answering honestly. “Ended about a year ago. He got a job offer in Seattle and didn’t even discuss staying before accepting it. Said long distance never works.”

“His loss,” Deus said, his eyes reflecting the TV’s glow in an otherworldly way.

“What about you?” I asked, emboldened by wine and curiosity. “Do demons date?”

Deus laughed. “Not the way humans do. We have… arrangements. Mutual beneficial situations.”

“Friends with benefits?”

“More like enemies with benefits, sometimes.” He swirled his wine thoughtfully. “Immortality makes relationships complicated.”

“I can imagine.” I couldn’t, actually, but it seemed like the right thing to say.

Deus turned to face me fully, setting his wine glass down. “Can I show you something?”

My heart rate kicked up a notch. “Depends on what it is.”

He held out his hand, palm up. “Give me your hand.”

Cautiously, I placed my hand in his. His skin was hot, almost feverish, and the contact sent a jolt up my arm like a mild electric shock.

“Don’t freak out,” he said, which was not reassuring.

Before I could ask what he meant, the tattoos on his arm began to move more rapidly, some of them seeming to lift off his skin and crawl onto mine. I yelped and tried to pull away, but he held firm.

“It’s okay,” he soothed. “They won’t hurt you. Just watch.”

The inky patterns swirled around my wrist, forming shapes that resolved into tiny scenes—people dancing in what looked like an ancient ballroom, couples embracing in gardens I didn’t recognize, figures moving together in ways that made me blush.

“What am I seeing?” I whispered.

“Moments I’ve witnessed,” Deus said, his voice low and intimate. “Humans in love, in lust, in all the beautiful messy states in between. I’ve observed your kind for millennia, Julian. The clothes and customs change, but the desire remains the same.”

The tattoos continued their dance across my skin, showing me glimpses of history through Deus’s eyes. A couple stealing kisses behind a Victorian manor. Two men embracing in what looked like ancient Rome. A woman in 1920s clothing laughing as her partner twirled her.

“It’s beautiful,” I admitted, mesmerized by the moving images.

“This is what I do,” Deus said. “I witness desire. I help it find its way.” His fingers tightened slightly around mine. “Sometimes I even create the opportunities for it to bloom.”

The implications of his words hung in the air between us. Was that his favor? Creating opportunities for desire—my desire—to bloom?

The tattoos slowly retreated back to his skin, leaving mine tingling where they had touched. But he didn’t let go of my hand.

“Your doctor date,” he said, thumb brushing over my pulse point, “would never have appreciated you properly.”

“And you would?” The words escaped before I could stop them.

Deus’s eyes darkened, the amber color intensifying to something molten. “I’ve had centuries to perfect the art of appreciation, Julian.”

My mouth went dry. “Prove it.”

I wasn’t sure where the courage came from—the wine, probably, or the lingering magic of the tattoos—but once the challenge was issued, I couldn’t take it back. Didn’t want to take it back.

Deus’s smile was slow and dangerous. “Are you sure about that? Once I start showing you how it’s done, there’s no going back to fumbling humans who don’t know what they’re doing.”

“Maybe I’m tired of fumbling humans,” I said, pulse racing.

In one smooth motion, Deus moved closer, his hand coming up to cup my face. “Lesson one,” he murmured, “is patience.”

His thumb traced my lower lip, a whisper of contact that sent shivers down my spine. He was so close now that I could see the subtle patterns in his irises, concentric circles of amber and gold.

“Most humans rush,” he continued, his voice hypnotic. “They go straight for the obvious places, neglecting all the others that can bring just as much pleasure.”

His fingers trailed down my jaw to my neck, finding a pulse point I didn’t even know was sensitive. I couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped me.

“Like here,” he said with satisfaction. “The carotid artery. Blood so close to the surface you can almost taste it.” His lips replaced his fingers, not quite kissing, just hovering over my skin. “I can feel your heartbeat speeding up. Are you nervous, Julian?”

“Yes,” I admitted, seeing no point in lying to a being who could probably sense my emotions.

“Good. Anticipation is half the pleasure.” His breath was hot against my neck. “What do you want me to do next?”

Everything. Anything. Just touch me properly.

“Kiss me,” I managed to say.

Deus pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. “Are you asking or telling?”

I swallowed hard, understanding the question beneath the question. “Telling.”

His smile was wicked and approving. “Better.”

When his lips finally met mine, it wasn’t the aggressive claiming I expected. Instead, it was devastatingly gentle, a careful exploration that made my toes curl. He tasted like wine and something else, something ancient and spicy that I couldn’t identify.

I made a frustrated noise against his mouth, wanting more, and felt him smile.

“Patience,” he reminded me, pulling back just enough to speak. “We have all night.”

“Some of us aren’t immortal,” I grumbled, trying to pull him back.

Deus laughed, the sound vibrating through me where our chests were pressed together. “Trust me, it’s worth the wait.”

His hands began a slow journey down my sides, mapping my body through my t-shirt with deliberate care. When they reached the hem, they slipped underneath, hot against my bare skin.

“You’re always so cold,” he observed, his palms sliding up my ribs. “Is that why you wear so many layers?”

“Poor circulation,” I gasped as his thumbs brushed my nipples. “And a shitty heating system.”

“I can help with that.” He demonstrated by pressing closer, his supernatural heat enveloping me like a blanket.

My head fell back against the couch cushions as he continued his careful exploration, each touch precise and calculated for maximum effect. It was like he had a map of every sensitive spot on my body, places I didn’t even know could feel good.

“How are you so good at this?” I asked breathlessly as he found a particularly responsive spot just below my ear.

“Centuries of practice,” he murmured against my skin. “And I can sense what you like. Your body temperature rises, your pupils dilate, your breath catches…” His hand moved lower, skating along the waistband of my sweatpants. “And other, more obvious signs.”

I was embarrassingly hard already, just from kissing and light touches. But Deus didn’t seem to be in any hurry to move things along. He continued his methodical exploration, occasionally returning to my mouth for kisses that grew progressively deeper and more intense.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, tugging at my t-shirt.

I nodded eagerly, lifting my arms to help. The cool air of the apartment hit my heated skin, making me shiver. Or maybe it was the way Deus was looking at me, like I was something delicious he couldn’t wait to devour.

“Beautiful,” he said, running his hands over my now-bare chest. “I knew you were hiding something good under those hoodies.”

I felt myself flush. “I’m not—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, placing a finger over my lips. “Don’t diminish yourself. I’ve seen every type of human body throughout history, and yours is lovely.”

Before I could argue, he bent his head and replaced his fingers with his mouth, trailing kisses down my chest. When he reached a nipple, he circled it with his tongue before gently biting down, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to my groin.

Holy shit.

“Sensitive here,” he observed, doing it again to my other nipple. “Good to know.”

I clutched at his shoulders, suddenly realizing he was still fully clothed while I was half-naked. “Your turn,” I said, tugging at his t-shirt. “Fair’s fair.”

Deus sat back, eyes glinting with amusement. “Want to see the merchandise before you commit?”

“Something like that,” I managed, though we both knew I was already fully committed to whatever was happening.

With a theatrical flourish, Deus pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the full glory of his tattooed torso.

I’d seen glimpses before, but never the complete picture.

The tattoos covered every inch of his chest and abdomen, swirling patterns that seemed to move faster now, responding to his arousal or mine, I wasn’t sure.

I reached out hesitantly. “Can I touch them?”

“Please,” he said, his voice rougher than before.

The tattoos felt like normal skin under my fingertips, but they moved at my touch, swirling around my fingers like they were greeting me. It was the strangest, most erotic thing I’d ever experienced.

“They like you,” Deus said, watching my fascination.

“What do they mean?” I asked, tracing a particularly intricate pattern over his heart.

“That one? It’s the first time I witnessed two humans in love.” His expression softened momentarily. “Mesopotamia, about five thousand years ago. A farmer and a scribe who had nothing in common except how they felt about each other.”

“What happened to them?”

“They lived together until old age, against all social conventions.” His smile was almost wistful. “It was the first time I understood that humans could be extraordinary.”

The moment felt suddenly intimate in a way that went beyond physical attraction. I let my hand rest over the tattoo, feeling his heartbeat beneath it.

“And this one?” I asked, touching another pattern near his collarbone.

“Renaissance Italy. A forbidden affair between a nobleman and an artist.” His eyes darkened. “That one didn’t end as well.”

I traced the moving patterns, fascinated by the stories written on his skin. “So your body is basically a historical record of human desire?”

“Among other things.” He caught my hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the palm in a way that made my breath catch. “But maybe the history lesson can wait.”

He pulled me forward into another kiss, this one hungrier, more demanding. His hands slid down to my hips, fingers dipping just below the waistband of my sweatpants.

“May I?” he asked against my mouth.

“Yes,” I breathed, lifting my hips to help as he slid the sweatpants down my legs.

Now I was just in my boxers, while he still had his jeans on. The power imbalance was both frustrating and thrilling.

“Your turn again,” I said, reaching for his belt.

Deus let me fumble with the buckle, his eyes never leaving my face. When I finally got it undone and popped the button on his jeans, he lifted his hips to help me slide them down.

He wasn’t wearing underwear. Of course he wasn’t.

Oh my god.

I tried not to stare, but it was impossible not to. He was… proportional to his height, and then some. And tattooed all the way down, the patterns swirling around his erection in a way that was hypnotically erotic.

“Like what you see?” he asked, the smug bastard.

“It’s… impressive,” I admitted, my mouth suddenly very dry.

“And all yours, if you want it.” He leaned back, completely comfortable in his nudity. “What would you like me to do, Julian? I can show you pleasures you’ve never imagined, but you have to tell me what you want.”

I swallowed hard, desire warring with nervousness. “I want… I want you to show me what I’ve been missing.”

Deus’s smile was predatory and pleased. “Specificity, Julian. Tell me exactly what you want.”

“I want your mouth on me,” I said, face burning but determined. “I want you to show me how it’s supposed to be done.”

“Better,” he approved. “Lie back.”

I obeyed, sinking back against the couch cushions. Deus moved with that supernatural grace, positioning himself between my legs. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of my boxers, looking up for permission. I nodded, lifting my hips again as he slid them down and off.

Now I was completely naked, exposed to his amber gaze. I resisted the urge to cover myself, forcing my hands to stay at my sides.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, running his hands up my thighs. “So responsive to every touch.”

He started with light kisses along my inner thighs, each one sending shivers through my body. His hands continued their exploration, finding spots that made me gasp and twitch.

“Most humans rush this part,” he said between kisses. “They go straight for the main event, missing all these lovely sensitive areas.” To demonstrate, he gently bit the crease where my thigh met my hip, making me yelp in surprise and pleasure.

“Deus,” I pleaded, beyond caring how desperate I sounded.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he conceded, finally, finally wrapping a hand around my erection.

The first touch had me arching off the couch. His hand was hot, almost too hot, but in the best possible way. He stroked me slowly, learning what I liked from my reactions.

“Good?” he asked, though he clearly knew the answer.

“Yes,” I gasped. “More.”

“Greedy,” he teased, but complied, lowering his head to replace his hand with his mouth.