Making Demons Purr (Flushed and Fevered Book 2) (10 page)

Carver could only shake his head and unlock the entryway. “Yup. I’ll clean up the mess. Thorn why don’t you take our guest inside.” This would give Thorn some time with Sera and him a chance to think. His pants felt tight and uncomfortable, and his mind was swathed with the fog of need. The demon wanted to fuck, claim, and fuck some more.

It was better than at the house where it had almost broken out. Having sex before had sated it somewhat, but not by much. It still wanted out and Carver didn’t blame it. He bent down and righted the jack-o’-lantern before scooping up the contents and putting them all back inside. For a second he considered hexing the pail with a little demonic magic to deter it from happening again, but he thought better of it. Instead, he went inside and locked the door behind him.

When he entered he found Thorn stalling for time, giving Sera a tour of the first floor layout. The two of them stood by the fireplace.

“This wasn’t original to the house,” Thorn was saying. “We had that added during the renovation.”

Carver took a moment to watch them together. Sera gazed at the piece of architecture with interest while Thorn seemed to struggle for snippets of conversation. Carver could only smile. His friend was trying not to take things sexual without him. It was cute, really, but Carver doubted Sera was that interested in their redecorations.

“Do you have a fireplace at the brownstone?”

Carver decided to save Thorn from further embarrassment. “What my best friend is trying to say is, would you like to fuck here or maybe just start upstairs?”

Relief swept over Thorn’s face and his body relaxed. He mouthed out a thank-you before turning his attention back to Sera.

Carver waited, on edge, for her answer. His body thrummed with tension and his arousal continued to swirl around his body. He could feel the demonic flush drifting over his skin like the slow brush of feathers. If he looked into the mirror he knew his skin would be flushed a light red. The obsidian color of his eyes would seep into the whites, making his eyes look as if someone had injected ink into them. Thorn looked normal, but the edges of his fingernails were sharper than normal. It was a relief to know that he wasn’t the only one struggling to keep his demonic side in control. His seal burned hotter at the thought of going full form.

Unlike shifters or vampires, demons didn’t bite to mark. Instead, they made unbreakable contracts and branded their chosen with tattoos. An image flashed in his mind of Sera carrying the brand of both his and Thorn’s family houses. For him it was the trident and for Thorn the scythe. He imagined her with one on each hip.

Carver sucked in a breath, glanced at Thorn, and nodded. A silent understanding passed between them. They both wanted the same thing.

“Well, sweetheart?” Thorn moved closer.

Carver followed suit until they flanked her in front and back, caging her in.

“I would offer you a drink to relax you, but I want you to make this decision with a clear mind. Do you want us?” Carver waited. He watched a mask slip over her features until they became clear and calm and unreadable.

“Yes, I want you.” She turned attention from one man to the other. Desire heated the amber-green depths of her eyes. The cat peeked out and a ripple of black fur coated her face before it disappeared, almost as if it had been imaginary.

Thorn grabbed Sera’s hips and pulled her pelvis closer to his. Carver dipped his head and slipped his hands around to cup her breasts.

“Good,” Carver murmured. “Same rules as before, only no cards. But you must tell us what you want. What is your safe word?” He had to make sure she remembered it.

“Catnip.” She moaned when Carver pinched her nipples through the delicate material of her corset.

“Use your safe word when you want to stop and everything will halt until you say you’re ready. Just tell us if something hurts too much or we go too far. We’ll push and test your limits but we won’t go over the edge. Now, tell us what you want to do, and be explicit. We want to hear all your fantasies. You get to control this part. It’s up to us to deliver and you to trust us.”

Thorn placed kisses along her jawline. Carver pinched and tugged on her nipples as he waited for her to make her decision. He could feel the demon rise. Fire danced along his skin as the magic flared within him.

“We’re waiting, love. We won’t undress you until you tell us what you want.” Thorn nibbled his way to her ear. Sera moaned and squirmed between them.

Carver felt her shiver against him. Her ass rubbed against his erection. The tension coiled tighter inside of him as the fire increased. His demonic flush increased until his skin tingled, and his clothing felt too constricting. He wanted to claw through the leather. He felt as if his flesh was suffocating and needed to breathe. Any second now he expected sparks to dance off of his fingertips and her corset to be set ablaze.

“Please, please, please say something
,” he urged her with his mind, hoping some of his telepathy worked on her.

“I want you to put on a show for me and strip. Not like before. I want you to bring me to the edge just by taking off your clothes.” Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper. She slipped out from between them and rushed over to the couch, where she sank down like a queen, chin up and eyes blazing. Expectation filled her hazel eyes.

Carver glanced at Thorn who was grinning like a loon.

“Thank the goddess,” Thorn muttered as he shrugged out of his jacket and started work on his shirt.

Carver could only return the smile and take off his own coat. “No music?”

Sera nodded. “No music. Just you. Wait! Light the fire and turn the lights down low. Demons use fire magic don’t they?”

“How attached are you to those clothes?”

“Carver can use his ability”—Thorn gave her a wicked grin—“but unless you want to freeze I’ll keep my magic to myself.” For a moment, his face turned marble white.

Carver could only shake his head. He was sure Thorn was just as close to the change as he was. What would it be like if he shifted, only partially, during sex? It could be painful but worth it.

“Let me get the toys. Carver, you start the fun.” Thorn left them alone.

Sera leaned forward. “Well, you heard him, get to it!” She snapped her fingers and sank back into the couch.

Carver swallowed as his heart beat triple time against his rib cage. A sheen of sweat coated his skin. The leather chafed everywhere it touched. He didn’t want to disappoint her in the least. Carver wanted her aroused like she was back in the sun-room. He wanted her so wound up that she
needed
to touch herself. Gazing at the anticipation on Sera’s face, he felt himself become steady. He refused to disappoint her in this.

“You asked for it.” He grabbed the hem of his shirt and slipped it off, too fast for her to enjoy the show. Quick enough that he wouldn’t back out of it.

Sera rose off the couch and came at him with a slow, graceful gait that made her hips sway. His thoughts blew apart as he let his gaze wander over her body, from her toes up to her face where he found a soft smile on her lips. The sight made his stomach flip and his heart beat a little faster.

She stopped in front of him, with only a few inches between them. He stared into her hazel eyes. The greens, browns, and golds burned with an unearthly light. They were so dark and yet so luminous he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.

She reached up and cupped his cheek. He turned into her touch. Her thumb rubbed back and forth over his jaw. The fingers of her free hand danced across his collarbone. Everywhere she touched incited his fire magic until it tingled across his skin to spread over his flesh like a fever. He groaned. Her touch slipped down over his pecs to circle one nipple and then another until both nubs were tight.

He couldn’t take enough air into his lungs. His flesh felt tight and his body too small to contain the growing arousal she was provoking in him.

“Slow, Carver. Go slow. Enjoy it,” she purred.

Her voice was a rumble that came from deep in her chest. The words felt like fur rubbing against his exposed torso. He groaned again.

She moved her hands and took hold of his to guide them over his chest. “See? Slow.”

She guided his movements with gentle pressure and unhurried sweeps. He wanted to close his eyes and savor this moment, but he kept them wide open and watched his own hands glide toward his waistband. Then they stopped. As she held them there, the moment stretched on and on. His heartbeat had slowed and his breathing had eased. Slowly, she urged his palms down until they gripped his belt.

“Unbuckle and remove it.” Her voice was rougher than usual. Heat and longing filled her tone.

He followed her directions. The belt fell to the floor with a
thunk
, and again he waited for her instructions. Fire spread through him, seeping down his limbs and filling his stomach and chest, like thick syrup. The dull buzz of need hummed along his spine and around his balls. His cock pressed against his fly, straining the fabric as if it knew and wanted to make contact with Sera’s body once more. She guided him down again, her fingers urging him to undo the button of his fly and then his zipper. His shaft slipped up through the opening. The crown, leaking precum, showed through all that blackness. It was red, thick, and ready.

She guided his hands down the front of his pants. He gripped the material and pulled them down, in a measured, easy motion, until his groin was fully exposed. Then she stopped him. His cock bobbed, unsupported by the leather.

The pressure on his penis had eased a bit, but the throbbing in his balls continued. She released his hands and ran her fingernails over the exposed section of his legs. The light scratch of her nails added to his desire. He wanted to feel the indentations of her fingers on his buttocks as he rode her hard and deep. A groan grew in his chest, climbed his throat, and came out of his mouth. It was a long, rough noise that didn’t sound anything like him.

She tugged his pants down, dropping into a graceful crouch at his feet. He gazed down on her in wonder and waited to see what she would do next. She gave him a wicked smile and started to unlace his shoes.

“Lift your foot.” The words came out as a rumble, as if the cat was controlling her vocal cords.

He did as she said—first one and then the other, allowing her to tug off his shoes and socks.

“Now for your pants.”

A thought occurred to Carver. “You know this isn’t really stripping? It’s you doing it for me.”

She chuckled and then kissed her way along the side of one leg. The soft touch of her plush lips felt like a breath of fire. His magic responded to that touch. At first his powers skimmed over him, heating his skin as if he was sitting too close to the fire. It burned but it didn’t harm him. The sensation only increased his desire for her.

She continued to undress him until all he wore was the collar. The ring of leather and metal felt tight against his neck and pressed into his skin as she made her way up his body, using her lips and tongue to tease and torment him.

“Change of plans. I like this way better. It lets me touch you.” She ran her hands over his legs. “You taste like cinnamon and fire. I can only imagine how your cock will taste when I suck you dry.” She pressed her lips to his hip, taking a bite of the skin and giving it a hard tug.

Carver let out a groan as his cock jerked and more precum leaked out of the slit. He wanted to wrap his fist around the base and give himself a tug but resisted the urge. She transferred her attentions to his other leg as he lifted his foot, allowing her to tug his pants off.

Sera blazed a trail of licks and bites up his body. Carver reached down and threaded his fingers through her soft tresses, gripping them tight. When she reached his groin, all he could do was grunt. Words had fled him. Language became nothing but meaningless noise. She lapped at his cock with quick flicks of her tongue, teasing and tormenting him.

“Please.” The word sounded as though it had been dragged out of the depths of his soul. Tension sung along his limbs. He could feel his orgasm so close and yet so far out of reach.

A dull buzz had started at his toes and rode its way up along his limbs. His body shook as he resisted the desire to lift her up and lower her onto his shaft. The musky perfume of her arousal filled the air. When she wrapped her lips around his crest, pleasure zipped along his nerve endings and lit him up. The dull electric thrill strengthened, riding up along his spine. He was so close to coming. A vague question of what the hell was taking Thorn so long swirled around is brain.

In the distance he heard the clatter of footsteps on the stairs and then Thorn’s voice calling out, “I’m back.”

Carver couldn’t care less at this point. Sera swirled her tongue along the underside of his shaft and then over his flared cockhead before taking more of his shaft into her mouth. The sweet torment continued until Sera pulled her head back.

He swore under his breath. “Fuck.” It was the only word he was capable of. He was only moments away from shooting his load.

Thorn chuckled. He held up two nipple clamps attached by a chain, along with a silver bullet. “Don’t worry, you’ll get relief soon enough.”

Carver stared at the implements for a second. It took a moment to remember what they were.

“That’s what you brought back?” He couldn’t believe it had taken his friend that long to find three items.

“Just the beginning.” Thorn fished a pair of steel handcuffs out of his pocket. “These too.”

“How do you want to do this?” Arousal pulsed hot and heavy in Carver’s veins.

Sera went to Thorn and examined the objects that would be used in her pleasure. Her sleek fingers touched and examined each implement.

“This time I get to take her pussy and you get her mouth. Switch places.” Thorn took the cuffs and opened them. “We start down here and then move up to your bedroom, using everything in between to our advantage.” A wicked glint had entered his eyes.

Carver understood what his friend was saying. “Starting with the stairs?” He reached down to give himself a long, slow stroke.