Page 56 of Infernal Bindings

I pull Daemon’s face closer. Cupping both of his cheeks, I stare into those bright red eyes so he’ll know I’m speaking the truth. “Yes, I love you. I’ve spent thirteen years being in love with you, and I don’t care about some stupid bond that I didn’t ask for and don’t want.”

“Fuck, Annie.” Daemon pins me on the mattress and kisses me—or at least he tries to. It’s unpracticed, and unskilled, and perfect. His nose collides with mine, and I snort out a laugh. Daemon laughs too.

God, I love that sound.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m bad at this.”

But I’m not. “Here,” I tilt my head to the side so we’re better aligned. “Now part your mouth a little. That’s it.”

I press my tender mouth to his, and my heart flip-flops. Gently, I slip my tongue between his parted lips and curl my fingers in his hair, tugging him closer. Daemon groans into me, and I swallow the sound, our tongues tangling.

He’s a fast learner.

As he settles into the kiss, I nip playfully at his bottom lip before pulling away, both of us breathless. “Was that better?” he asks.

“It was perfect. You want to do it some more?”

“Among other things.” Without warning, Daemon grips my hips and rolls me on top of him so that I’m straddling his waist. As I regain my balance, my thin purple dress bunches around me, and I feel rather than see his erection push against my center.

The thong I’m wearing is one he chose—lacy and purple, with a tight string between my ass cheeks. It would take nothing for him to unbutton his pants, scoot my underwear aside, and enter me. My pussy aches at the thought.

“Strip for me,” Daemon says. “I want to look at you.”

With anyone else, I’d be embarrassed. I’d ask to dim the lights or move things under the covers, but I don’t feel that with him—not anymore. Slowly, I peel the dress over my head and toss it somewhere in the room, exposing those panties to him, and a sheer bra to match.

He takes me in, and my heart flutters.

“Too long,” he says.

“What’s too lo—”

I can’t finish the question before Daemon snaps his fingers. Our clothes vanish. The panties. The bra. The suit. All of it gone without a trace. His human cock is rigid against me, practically begging me to reach between my thighs and seat myself on it. But I’m not great at taking initiative.

Thankfully, I don’t need to be.

“Climb on my cock and fuck me already,” he says, with every bit the authority he used in the club. And God, I’m instantly wet from it.

Daemon’s thick length presses against me, stretching me so fucking good as I settle onto him inch by inch. God, it hurts in the best possible way. Daemon hisses in pleasure, but his eyes never once leave mine as he digs his fingers into my sides and rolls my hips, rocking me against him.

“Touch yourself while you fuck me,” he says. “I want to watch you play with your clit.”

God, his mouth is so filthy.

I reach between my legs and stroke myself in slow circles, the euphoria almost too much. His hips thrust into me, meeting me stroke for stroke, and it doesn’t take long before I’m there, ready to come on top of him.

But Daemon places his hand over mine, then yanks my fingers away. “It’s too soon,” he says.

I disagree.

My clit throbs with need, but he doesn’t loosen his grip when I try to pry my hand free.

“It’s too soon,” Daemon repeats. “I want you begging to come before I’m through with you.”

“You can’t be serious.”

But his expression says otherwise.

When I try to use my free hand, Daemon grabs both wrists and holds them in place, pinning them against my stomach. Then he continues fucking me, hitting me so deeply I can’t even think. My breasts bounce with each thrust, and I fall on top of him. “Oh my God, Daemon. Shit.”