Page 70 of Demon's Beauty

Like spiced wine and sunshine, a bright, bold, living spark against me as we tug at each other’s clothes.

I’m not sure when this became something more than a makeout, but I am one hundred percent down for it as we bare each other inch by inch.

I’m so down for it I don’t spare more than a moment’s passing anxiety about stripping down with a new partner for the first time.

I love my body.

I love my curves, love my soft stomach and the roundness of my ass, my breasts, my thighs, everything, really.

But I also know the world sucks sometimes and people have shit opinions about women who don’t exactly fit into what they perceive as beauty standards.

Maybe beauty standards are different here, though, or maybe I’m just exactly Finn’s cup of tea, because with every single piece of clothing he removes, he gets even more feral.

“Fuck, sunshine,” he pants when I’m standing in front of him in just my bra and panties. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

Heat flushes all the way through me, warming my cheeks, my chest, the molten place between my thighs, already aching for him.

“I could say the same,” I say when he pulls his own shirt off.

Finn looks like someone carved him out of marble, with painstaking detail added to every inch of golden skin and every hard ridge of muscle.

I can’t stop myself from reaching out to touch.

His pecs, first, which bunch and jump beneath my fingertips. Then his biceps, his abs, the delicious masculine vee which leads straight to.

“Fuck,” he curses again, grabbing my wrist gently to stop it from descending any further.

“Sorry,” I breathe, though I can’t stop the smile that tugs at the corners of my lips. “Too much?”

He gives his head a rueful shake. “What am I going to do with you, sunshine?”

“Whatever I want you to.”

I don’t know where the words come from, and never could have guessed what they would do to my demon.

Finn’s eyes darken in the dim of the tent, a deep blood red with fires kindled in their depths. A rumble breaks in his chest, something between a growl and a moan, and the magick between us spikes harder, hotter, and I swear I canfeelhow pleased that idea makes him.

“And what would that be?” he asks, leaning closer, but I press my hand to the center of his chest.

“Stay there.” I whisper, and take a step back.

I keep my eyes fixed on his while I take off the last scraps of fabric on my body. Finn, to his credit, doesn’t break that contact until I whisper again. His gaze stays on mine, the air between us thickening with each passing second.

“You can look.”

Another growl, deep and unearthly, fierce enough that I can feel the rasp of it from where I stand.

“Can I touch?”

“Yes.”

He lunges.

Both hands under my ass, he lifts me up and against him, mouth descending to my breasts. He takes care to worship every inch of them, the tops, the undersides, the valley between, before he even dares so much as to breathe against my nipples.

And when he does?

I go up in flames.