A Very Demon Christmas [Demon Hunters 1] (6 page)

She arched against him, as supple and eager for his touch as a hungry housecat and a thousand times harder to resist. He didn't even try.

Lifting her, he arranged her legs across his thighs and pleased himself by fastening his mouth over one of her taut nipples while he lightly pinched and tugged the other.

His first good whiff of her had told him she was healthy and not ovulating. He could take her without a condom with no fear of lasting consequences. But he already wanted to keep Holly too much and was too close to losing control and giving in to his primal instinct to claim her. Fertile or not, fucking her would be a mistake.

He drew hard on her stiffened nipple; she squirmed closer, but she kept her hands behind her head and her fingers laced. Holly's soft thighs rested against his tense quads, keeping her pussy open to him. The scent of her sweet musky arousal was gasoline on his fire.

"You did very well tonight. Shibari suits you.” Testing the tension in his weave, he skimmed the underside of her right breast and then the left. “So fucking soft. Are you that soft everywhere, baby?"

"Touch me...everywhere...Master."

While keeping her anchored on his lap, he allowed his hand to skim her smooth rib cage. Then he followed the crease where her waist dipped right above the swell of her hip. Moving to her belly button, he rimmed the indentation and traced the lower curve of her belly to the top of her mound. “Where do you want my touch? Tell me."

"My pussy, Master."

He parted her outer lips, stroking the slick edges. “Here?"

"My clit, Master."

Gently, he eased the small hood back coaxing her small clit out of hiding. “Harder?"

"Yes...no... I don't know, Master."

A light brush of his thumb across her clit and she moaned. He circled the entrance to her pussy and then eased his middle finger into her tight sheath. Feminine muscles rippled against his penetration and fresh hot honey poured onto his hand. Resting his thumb lightly on her clit, he pumped into her channel in a lazy cadence that he increased very, very slowly.

Her lips parted. He abandoned the nipple he'd been torturing to frame her face and then covered her mouth with his. Plunging his tongue deep, he drank in her minty cocoa sweetness while letting his own chocolate flavor flood her silken mouth. He kissed her until she moaned and squirmed against his hand. He grew dizzy from wanting her.

"That's it, baby. Ride my hand. Feel me fucking you."

She made an erotic noise somewhere between a whimper and moan. Her thighs quivered across his lap. At the same time, her sheath fluttered faster around his thrusting fingers, her swollen clit bumping his rigid thumb in short jerks from her frantic hips, and her hot honey spilled until she was wet enough for him to work a second finger into her spasming pussy. “Come for me, slave."

As if her body had only been waiting for permission, she gushed over his hand and melted against him. He inhaled the heady scent of her climax, and the need to stake his claim on her expanded until it threatened to obliterate everything he cared about—even her safety.

"I want to serve you, taste you, please you.” She paused for a breath, then added, “Master."

The image of those gorgeous lips stretched around his cock fanned his raw hunger.

He released the nipple he'd been sucking, then made small circles around the wet peak while he stared at her beautiful face and fought a desperate battle to hold on to the last of his eroding control. Before he lost the battle, his phone vibrated.

The last glow of the most amazing climax of her life still pulsed deep in Holly's core, even as her mouth dried from nervous tension. She wet her parched lips with quick useless darts of her tongue and waited for Master's reply. No matter how optimistically she tried to interpret his silence, it wasn't a good sign.

Despite her own release, she wanted to please him. More than she would've dreamed. Serving Master, earning the gift of his pleasure, just the idea caused a shiver of need to whisper over her. She'd been shocked at the strength of her desires. She actually wanted to taste him, wanted to explore the hard chest she'd barely glimpsed, wanted to lick the erection separated by nothing more than a few layers of fabric from her wet channel.

Instead of indulging in any of these erotic wishes, she kept her hands laced behind her head and thighs spread wide across the iron bands of his quads. Obeying his commands was more thrilling than any of the caresses she longed to lavish on him.

As talented as his mouth was and as wonderfully clever as his hands were—his voice, with its deep notes of pure dominance, was what had pulled her over the edge into orgasm. She had no doubt he could compel her to climax with a word whenever he wanted. She loved how he made her feel—special and desirable. But she truly wanted to please him.

Perhaps telling him what she yearned for wasn't the way things were done. Perhaps this Master didn't like pushy slaves. She fingered her temporary collar and remembered how coldly he'd dismissed the submissive who'd given him the ribbon Holly wore.

Now she felt like a student nurse plunked into a busy emergency room—way over her head, completely lost, and very discouraged. This wasn't her world. She didn't know the rules, couldn't read the signs, and didn't know how to please a Master. She'd been an idiot to think she could walk in and play with those who lived a different lifestyle.

"If I...” She swallowed, swiped her dry lips, and then tried again. “If I've offended you in any way, please forgive me, Master."

He tucked a stray strand of her hair into the blindfold and cupped the back of her neck. “You haven't offended me. I'm flattered."

For a few moments
$
, his very loud, although unspoken, but@ hung in the air. Then he continued. “But I don't want you to misunderstand. I never repeat a scene with a sub."

"Never repeat with a sub,” she echoed.

"Nothing personal."

She swallowed again, and her shoulders rounded in defeat while she lied. “Of course not. You don't need to worry. I'm not even a member here. It was very kind of you to take so much time with me."

When she reached to remove the blindfold, he caught her hands. “Keep it on for minute."

Pathetically, she obeyed his casual order, waiting patiently while he removed her bindings. After the last of the rope was gone and his bag zipped shut, she continued to wait for him to release her.

Something clicked. The tiny sound was followed by an irritated snort, and then Master grunted. “Gotta go."

The only thing that happened afterward was that the silence surrounding her grew thicker until she was certain he was gone. Slowly, she unknotted the silk covering her eyes and blinked in the dim lighting. She shivered from the chill of regret. She'd never seen his face, but she'd never forget his voice or his touch.

Tonight had been her one chance to visit a fantasy world far removed from her everyday life. Unlike Cinderella in her adventure at the ball, Holly had failed to impress her dark and very dominant prince.

Carefully, she smoothed the blindfold, folded it neatly, and left the black silk on the polished wooden bench. Then she struggled back into the provocative red lingerie. The small scraps of lace were wholly inadequate to cover her disappointment, but there was nothing else for her to wear. Straightening her spine and kicking up her chin, she left the glass-enclosed room. The clear door closed smoothly behind her. A glance back at the darkened room reflected her own sad face and the green ribbon of temporary ownership still encircling her neck.

A fresh round of cheering and clapping rose from the main arena where the slave auction was underway. Blinking back sudden tears, she whirled and hurried through the nearly deserted bar to the entry.

The doorman didn't even lift an eyebrow at her scanty costume. No doubt he saw more revealing outfits all the time. “I'll get your things, Miss."

When he returned, she shrugged into to her winter coat with a shiver as the cold satin lining made contact with her hot skin and gratefully accepted her purse with a murmured, “Thank you, Harry."

After the elevator doors closed and the machinery whirred to life, the rest of the journey to her car raced by in a blur of tears. She swiped the tracks away with a palm, leaving a smear of brown mascara on her damp hand. Her handkerchief cleaned off the mess, and she used her rearview mirror to erase the rest of the makeup from her cheeks.

With numb determination to make it home before anything more humiliating happened, she eased out the La Ceinture Noire's garage and pointed the car toward her condo.

An icy wind swirled through the driver's side window as she lowered it in order to release the locked gate guarding the condo's parking. Amanda had parked her Cadillac over the line again, and Holly had to back into her assigned slot to avoid crawling over the center console and exiting through the passenger's door. Fitting her compact into the narrowed space without scraping the concrete post or Amanda's car took several tries. By the time the car was safely parked, she was exhausted and ready for a hot shower, and then a soft pillow so she could muffle the perfect end to her disappointing night—a good cry.

Numbly, she waited for the irritatingly slow elevator. There was no rumble of cables and gears for so long that she considered the stairs. A glance at her very sparkly, very high heels discouraged her from trudging up to the ninth floor. She shuffled in place and rubbed her cold hands, trying to keep from turning into an icicle in the freezing garage. Unbidden, a memory of her Master's demanding kiss heated her cheeks. Just thinking about him was enough to keep her warm even on an icy December night.

The elevator creaked open. She stepped into the welcome warmth and almost stopped shivering by the time she was whooshed to the ninth floor. She had her key out before the doors opened, all set to scurry down the hall. Then she slowed her steps and dragged her feet to a full stop. Her second glance got her moving again—much faster. Her grouchy neighbor was ill or injured or, judging from the way his left arm hung stiff and useless, both.

He was a jerk, but she couldn't leave him to suffer or let him bleed to death.

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Colin's night had taken a sharp downhill turn starting with Duec's text message. Thad, one of their eight demon hunters, went rogue after his pregnant mate had been assaulted by a pack of hungry goblins as she left the real estate office where she worked. Her body hadn't been recovered. Which wasn't unusual—hungry goblins didn't leave much to recover. Her car door had been left open, and her keys and purse lay on the street. The pavement by her car had been licked clean, leaving only faint traces of her blood.

Last week, Colin had drunk a toast to Thad and Zinja at their anniversary party. Yesterday, Thad and he had sparred. Tonight, he'd been sent to execute his friend—the brother he'd always wanted. Thad had been a formidable foe, a full-blood fire demon berserk with grief. Winning hadn't been a victory.

As the elevator rolled to stop with a
ding
, Colin automatically turned to assess the potential threat. The first sight of Holly lightened his black mood.

He'd altered her memories of the evening they'd spent at the club, taking perverse pleasure in creating an alternate memory of a disappointing encounter with an imaginary and inexperienced Dom she'd addressed as Master Jeremy and giving her a heartfelt relief that she was really a vanilla kind of girl. His own memories of her sweet submission and helpless arousal were intact and going to torture him for the rest of his life.

Taking the bondage scene out of the equation wasn't enough to make her happy to see him, because he'd acted like an asshole when he demanded her car keys—the one memory she had of him that he'd failed to change.

Holly's pretty eyes met his. For a couple of beats, he saw a sure recognition that scared the hell out of him. Then he shook off the irrational fear that the altered memories he'd planted hadn't taken. It was the disconcerting blankness he hit every time he tried to read her thoughts that eroded his confidence. They were neighbors. There was absolutely nothing sinister about her knowing him.

He didn't need ESP, because her open face made everything she felt easy to read. Along with her less than thrilled recognition of his sorry ass came a grim determination to help him, and palpable disappointment. Perfectly understandable reactions. She was a nurse—helping was a professional hazard—and he'd acted like his usual bastard self when he'd fixed her leaky tire and forgot to erase the incident from her mind.

Wanting her to like him wasn't smart or rational, but that didn't stop him from wanting. In fact, now that he knew how sweetly submissive she was, he wanted her to obey him, melt for him... He slammed the door on the thoughts making him crazier than he already was.

He nodded a curt dismissal, then returned to fitting his damn key into the lock. The simple task was complicated by a nasty slash on his good left arm, forcing him to work with his clumsier right. Blood loss, a fever from Thad's—
no it was not Thad. It ceased being Thad when it went rogue—
the monster's poisoned talon.
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Plus, Colin had probably scored a concussion from repeated contact between his head and a brick wall. None of which helped with his unlocking mission. He clenched his teeth to keep them from chattering from sudden chills and angled his head to hide the icy sweat coating his face.

"Give me those.” Holly didn't wait for him to cooperate. She simply hip checked him aside and took his keys.

Either he was a whole lot weaker than he'd realized, or else he wanted to be overpowered, or he simply didn't want to be alone. Honesty made him admit he was weak about Holly. He wanted her, and he really didn't want to be alone. None of his weaknesses made letting her help him a good idea. He felt downright slimy for using her to ease his bruised heart, but not quite bad enough to send her away. Another whiff of her addictive fragrance eroded the last of his noble intentions.

A few minutes more with her wouldn't make any difference. He wouldn't even need to alter her memories. He'd tell her that he had the flu, and she'd leave, end of story.