Page 60 of Where the Dark Knelt (Worshipped by Darkness #1)

“I’ll buy you a better one then.” His finger slid inside me and I had to bite my lip to stop myself from moaning out loud.

His thumb found my clit immediately, rubbing slow, deliberate circles as he curved his finger inside me just right.

My hips bucked against him, my entire body melting with heat.

He knew exactly where to touch, how to tease, how to make me fall apart for him within minutes…

“Desmond…” His name slipped from my lips like a soft moan, melodic and full of need.

“Yeah, Eveline, moan my name… mhmm…” He bit my ear again, and I turned to him, craving his kiss. He didn’t need any instructions, he knew me like the back of his hand.

Two fingers were already deep inside me, moving faster and faster, sliding in and out of my slick heat.

I could hear the wet, squelching sounds even over the hum of the plane’s engines, and the thought that a flight attendant might walk in at any moment only made me wetter.

I probably already leaked onto the seat.

“Fuck, Desmond… you… please… I’m so close…”

And I really was on the edge of falling apart. Everything felt sharper somehow, every touch amplified as a delicious tension coiled low in my belly, ready to snap.

Then he changed tactics breaking the kiss, leaning sideways, and teasing my clit with his long, skillful tongue. He played with it expertly, flicking and swirling until I was ready to scream at the top of my lungs, let me cum, now!

He just giggled, speeding up his pace. My back arched instinctively as a powerful orgasm crashed through me. I called his name aloud, loud enough to fill the entire cabin.

Then I flushed bright red, embarrassed by my volume.

The waves of pleasure still rippled through me even after he pulled back and sat comfortably in his seat, licking his lips with a slow, satisfied smile. He leaned in for a kiss just as the flight attendant appeared again, her eyes wide as she took in the scene.

She cleared her throat.

Desmond recoiled slightly but kept licking his lips, while I tried to hide my blush.

“Oh my God…” I whispered to myself.

The flight attendant asked, “Would you like anything else before boarding?”

Desmond smirked. “Yes, a bottle of prosecco to calm my girlfriend’s nerves. As you can see, she’s blushing all over, and the kisses didn’t help.”

The flight attendant squinted a little, then disappeared behind the cockpit.

“Desmond!”

“What!?” He grinned, slipping his hand back up my thigh, fingertips teasing my clit.

“Round two?”

He wiggled his eyebrows, and I giggled.

“I bet you’ll finish before she brings the wine.”

I shook my head. “Well, just watch then, love.”

Without hesitation, he dove between my legs again, his sinful, playful tongue ready for business.

And I was absolutely sure: a minute later, I would be undone again. Because Desmond was the god of sex, and I believed it more than anything else in the world.

After checking into a hotel with a breathtaking view of the Eiffel Tower, I quickly washed up, though Desmond was madly trying to sneak into the shower with me. I politely refused; I was too eager to step outside and see the city with my own eyes.

So, we set out for a walk, the summer air a perfect +23 degrees, it was warm enough for a light dress, but cool enough that I knew my boyfriend would kindly offer his jacket come evening.

We wandered into a park dotted with sakura trees, their pink blossoms fluttering all around.

I closed my eyes, breathing in the sweet scent of flowers, and felt Desmond standing behind me, his whole body wrapped around mine.

He swayed us gently side to side as if we were dancing a slow, intimate waltz.

Soft petals drifted down, landing in my hair, on my dress, even inside my bra. Playfully, Desmond slipped his hand beneath my bodice, brushing my breasts and pulling out several petals.

“Even the sakura petals want to bury themselves in your breasts, babe…”

“Well, ‘bury themselves’ is a bit dramatic, it just drifted in there.”

“Your breasts are perfect. You know I love burying my face in them, my favorite place to rest is somewhere buried in you.” He caught a petal floating on the breeze with his mouth, bending to kiss me and pressing the delicate pink leaf between our lips.

I swallowed it, feeling the warmth of his arms tighten around me beneath my chest. His lips never left mine, his tongue searching for the petal he’d lost but it was gone.

He pulled back, and I gasped in protest.

“Hmm… what, you want more?”

I nodded obediently. He smiled slyly.

“You didn’t let me in the shower, remember? That means I’m in control of your orgasms today.”

“Oh, you!” I frowned and playfully slapped his hands under my breasts, but he just laughed, burying his face in the crook of my neck and inhaling my scent. I melted into his arms.

“See? You are all mine… all mine…”

“My love…” he kissed my neck, whispering soft promises in my ear. I listened, drinking it in. What could be better?

“I actually have a lot of surprises for you today,” he whispered, and we moved on.

Desmond led me to a charming old restaurant with ancient frescoes of angels and demons painted on soaring Gothic ceilings so high it felt like a prehistoric church. The interior was bright despite the Gothic style, with white roses on every table and dim candlelight flickering softly.

Waiters bustled about, serving delicious aromas that made my mouth water. Everyone was dressed elegantly in dresses and suits, and we stood out a little, but when we were led to our table on the second floor, closer to the frescoes, it was perfect.

Our table sat by a darkened window with a view of the Eiffel Tower. It was my first time seeing it, a bit far away and through the filtered glass, but I smiled like an idiot just staring.

Desmond handed something to the waiter, and when I snapped out of my reverie, he was smiling. No menus sat on the table. Instead of white roses, there were ashen roses, petals glowing softly like embers, flickering gently.

“When did you?” I grinned, and he winked.

“I always do everything on time and according to my plans, ashpetal.”

The waiter arrived with our food: garlic bread with oils for dipping and onion soup with a cheesy crust. I immediately recognized the classic French onion soup and eagerly broke the golden cheese cap with my silver spoon, which gleamed like a mirror.

The soup was divine. I’d always dreamed of trying it, but never felt truly drawn to it until now. Here, it felt different, as if the city itself was soaked in love, every grain of sand humming with it. It was incredible.

I devoured the soup even faster than Desmond, who just smiled and shook his head with amused approval.

After ten years in a monastery eating simple, bland food, anything from a restaurant now exploded on my taste buds. I was ready to have a gastronomic orgasm over every bite.

Maybe those orgasms mingled with the ones Desmond gave me, because honestly, one glance from him could make me feel undone.

“A good surprise. Thank you, my love,” I said, nodding.

He rested his cheek on his fist, propping up his face, and smiled at me without looking away, like he wanted to say more but held back.

I smiled back.

We waited eagerly for the next course.

And that’s when I fell right into his trap, finally understanding why he’d been grinning so ominously.

The waiter arrived with snails swimming in a garlicky, green herb sauce. Panic immediately washed over me, clearly visible on my face. I wanted to kill Desmond for this culinary bullying. I hated those damn snails — God!

I squealed and kicked him under the table with my heel.

He grimaced but burst out laughing, picking a snail out of its shell and popping it into his mouth like it was nothing.

The waiter wisely decided to disappear, no one wanted to see my ‘I’m going to destroy everything’ grimace except for my bestial demon.

“You’re a monster, you know that!” I hissed, turning to the window and crossing my arms.

Then I felt his hand tighten around my neck as he pulled me into a kiss. I tried to pull away, but he just grinned, deepening the kiss. His long tongue slid inside, and I squealed, eyes squeezed shut, but it was just a kiss. Then he pulled back as if nothing had happened.

“How does it taste?”

“I can only taste garlic,” I snorted, still sulking.

“No snail taste?” He raised an eyebrow, propping his cheek on his fist, admiring me.

“There’s… no snail. Just your taste, interrupted by garlic.”

“Well, now you’re covered in garlic too. Be grateful, it protects us from the vampires that roam the streets at night and feed on tourists.”

I hissed indignantly, “Vampires that feed on tourists? Ha! Ha!” I laughed loudly, rolling my eyes so hard I was sure my whites could be seen from space.

“Yes, vampires. They exist. Those who’ve met them… well, you know… all their blood’s sucked out and — oops — the man is gone.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Keep telling me that.” I rolled my eyes again. But if demons existed and Desmond was proof then maybe vampires were real too. The thought made me uneasy. Still, with him beside me, I had nothing to fear.

“But I’ll protect you from any evil spirits and monsters, love. You know that.” He reached across the table and kissed my cheek.

Then, pulling another snail from its shell, he handed it to me, skewered on a special little fork.

I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut.

“Try it.”

I clenched my teeth and exhaled. “To hell with you. If I throw up on you, it’s your fault.”

“That’s my good girl.” He touched the snail meat to my lips. I parted them slightly, biting down on the soft flesh. I pulled it off the fork and began to chew. Actually, it tasted like bland tofu soaked in garlic.

“Hmm… not so bad,” I admitted, swallowing. “When you don’t think about it being a snail.”

“Good girl, now you have a vampire ward inside yourself,” he repeated, eyes gleaming.

We waited for the main course, meat with vegetables and shrimp, which was truly delicious. I moaned softly with pleasure, and Desmond caught every sound with pride, knowing he’d orchestrated this perfect night.

He paid for everything, and honestly? I could never work another day in my life. And what the hell was wrong with that? Yes, everything was fucking perfect.

I was truly happy to be with such a man. Well, more precisely… a demon. But what difference did it make? Happiness filled me, in every sense.