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Lucy drives the borrowed car, drives out into the outskirts of Los Angeles County, drives until she thinks she’ll be lost forever. At least out here, no one will see her shame. No one will see her desperation. And no one will see her utter failure when this doesn't work.
The crossroads is exactly where the lady at the shop had described. There is one lone street lamp, casting a surprisingly bright, golden glow across the asphalt. It’s nearly midnight, in a town with a smaller population than the neighborhood she’d grown up in.
No one would drive up on her. No one would see the madness.
Lucy pulls the car off to the side, off the road, managing to park in some shrubbery. The darkness of night helps to further camouflage the car, and she gets out.
The only sounds are of crickets chirping, the dull drone of the night easing her nerves for but a moment.
It was now or never.
Lucy opens the back driver’s side door, grabbing her backpack. She forces her feet to the crossroads and stands at its center. The stretch of road is utterly deserted, allowing for all sorts of clandestine machinations.
Hers were certainly on this side of crazy.
Lucy lets out a steadying breath through pursed lips and gets to work. First, she pulls out the candles, then the white chalk. The piece of paper the woman had scribbled instructions on is crumpled at the bottom of her backpack, but it’s still legible. Lucy smooths the paper across her thigh and skims the directions again. She has to bite back a laugh, as the ritual reads much like a baking recipe.
She presses the tip of the white chalk to pavement, and begins to sketch the circle. Lucy steps back to examine her handiwork, and while it isn’t the most perfect of circles, she makes the executive decision that it will have to do.
Next come the sigils.
The woman in the shop was adamant that she draw the sigils exactly as she had modeled. It was imperative, lest Lucy accidentally summon an eldritch terror… or so she assumes.
Lucy finishes the last sigil with a flourish, then double checks them, triple checks them, and for good measure, quadruple checks them. When she’s sure the sigils match those on her paper, Lucy grabs the white pillar candles and, using her phone’s compass, sets them at the four cardinal directions: north, south, east, and west.
Everything is starting to become more real now, and Lucy falters. She’s placed the last candle and holds a disposable Bic lighter in her hand.
Should she go through with this?
Throughout her childhood, her parents emphasized science, logic, and reason. The belief in all things visible, tangible, and provable. As an act of rebellion, Lucy had researched the esoteric, the holistic, the New Age-y. A higher being, to Lucy, is not out of the realm of possibility.
But a ritual to summon a demon?
The small part of her brain not immersed in desperation teems with logic, with all the reasons this won’t work, the ridiculousness of this eleventh hour ploy to not stumble right before the finish line.
What if this ritual indeed works? Did she really want to enter into something she couldn’t come back from?
Lucy ignores every warning siren in her head and begins to light the candles. Once they’re lit, she takes out the jar of graveyard dirt and sprinkles it within the circle.
The ritual now only requires one final ingredient.
Lucy tosses her backpack outside of the circle and stands in the center. Out of her jeans pocket, she pulls a safety pin. With the sharp end, she pricks the pad of her forefinger, then, as she drips droplets of blood into the center, Lucy chants.
It isn’t a long incantation, and it’s Latin. She’d taken a couple of years of Latin in high school, so the pronunciation isn’t difficult. She’s memorized the words, and repeats them thrice, as instructed.
As Lucy utters the last handful of words, she closes her eyes. The last of the syllables seem to echo into the stillness around her, and then they dissipate.
Silence.
Lucy cracks one eyelid, looking around stealthily, but she sees nothing.
Another few minutes pass, and Lucy’s eyes open fully. She spins around in the circle, seeing nothing. Seeing no one.
“Shit,” she hisses under her breath, the anxiety welling once more at the realization that she had wasted a colossal chunk of her time with this fool’s errand, when she could’ve been working on a plan for earthly revenge instead of chasing a fantasy.
Lucy feels him before she hears or sees him.
His presence is pure energy, raw and roiling and skimming across her forearms like static. The hairs on her arms stand up, the air thickens around her, and the smell… It lasts for only a moment before being replaced with something else, something sweeter. But there was no mistaking the smell of rotten eggs.
Sulfur.
“You know--”
Lucy whirls around toward the sound of his voice, to find the man standing just outside of her hastily drawn chalk circle.
“--Did no one ever teach you not to mess with the infernal?”
Lucy swallows thickly.
Standing before her is the most handsome man she has ever seen. If he indeed could be called a man. His hair is dirty blonde and carefully styled, cropped to shorter sides with longer strands atop his head. His eyes look a midnight blue in the dark, but in the light of day, Lucy would bet they’d be a lighter shade. His jaw is linear and strong, peppered with stubble, and his lips are plush and pink. He’s tall, broad shouldered, and is wearing an impeccably well-tailored suit. The guy — demon? —looks like any young, high powered corporate businessman walking up and down the streets in the financial district. But even a blind person would notice —sense —that there was something off.
It’s not necessarily a bad off, but definitely not normal.
The aura he exudes causes the air around him to ripple, almost like the edges of a mirage on hot pavement in the dead of summer. When he shifts ever so slightly, the air moves with him, and that electric feeling thrums across Lucy’s skin in waves. And his voice… Lucy cannot help but think that if sin had a sound, it would be his voice. It’s deep, low, and slightly husky. When he speaks, the tone reverberates around her, like the sounds are trapped in a bubble. It sends a not unpleasant shiver down the length of her spine.
“How can I be of service?” the man nudges, after Lucy remains silent.
“Um…”
“You know what? I’ll skip the formalities.” He makes an off hand waving gesture, then shoves his hands in the pockets of the suit pants. Lucy cannot decide what color it is, as it seems to glint black one minute, then deep burgundy the next. What is unchanging, however, is his tie, flawlessly tied in a Trinity knot, which Lucy vaguely thinks is sacrilegious. It’s a gorgeous emerald green color, the exact shade Lucy considers her favorite, and she realizes quickly that that was not a coincidence.
“You are Lucy Chen of Los Angeles, California,” the man presses on. His lips curl at the edges ever so slightly at the look of shock on Lucy’s face. “You are a graduate student in the doctoral program for Psychology at UCLA. You are the only daughter of Henry and Vanessa Chen. Such proud parents they are, to have their daughter follow in their footsteps.”
Lucy’s fists curl slightly at her sides. She doesn’t like the familiarity in which he speaks about her and her parents, but finally, Lucy finds her voice.
“Hardly seems fair that you know me, but I don’t have the same pleasure,” she says, a bite to her tone.
The man’s smile broadens, like he’s pleased she’s got spice.
“You’re right. Where are my manners?” He clears his throat, removes his hands from his pockets, and spreads his arms out slightly and bows at the waist. He doesn’t bend far, just a slight inclination of courtesy. “My name is far too complicated for a mortal to pronounce, not to mention it is not of any alphabet your ears have ever heard. You can call me… Tim.”
Lucy’s mouth drops. And then she giggles. Honest to God giggles.
“Wait… you’re a demon, whose name is impossible for humans to pronounce, so you pick Tim ?”
The demon — Tim —rolls his eyes skyward, then levels them at her once more. “You aren’t the first to mock my name. It’s fine. My name isn’t of consequence, anyway. Tim just makes me seem more approachable.”
Lucy cracks up, pressing her palm to her mouth to stifle the laughter.
Tim’s eyebrows furrow, and a muscle twitches in his jaw as he crosses his arms over his powerful chest.
“Are you done?” He hisses, and her laughs choke off in her throat at the pure menace in those three words.
“Yeah, erm…sorry.”
Did one apologize to a demon? Hardly seemed necessary…
“Why did you summon me, Lucy Chen?” Tim asks. “It wasn’t to make fun of me.”
“No,” Lucy’s cheeks redden. “I…I summoned you to make a deal.”
Tim’s mouth turns from a frown into an all out grinning leer. His smile is cruel, but pleased. “Go on…”
“This guy…in my program? He stole my research, my conclusions, and he’s passing them off as his. It’s not the first time, but I couldn’t prove it then, and I can’t prove it now. All of my hard work has been compromised, and I’ll never be able to defend my dissertation. He’s scheduled to defend before me, so I can’t beat him to the punch.”
Tim thinks, hands once more back in his pockets and rocking on his heels. “And you can’t kill him yourself?”
Lucy chokes. “What? No! Why— Why would I kill him? I just want him to pay .”
Tim shrugs loosely. “Killing him would be easier.”
“I’m not…I can’t kill anyone. I just want my hard work to not be stolen. I want that…that snake to suffer the consequences of his actions.”
Tim looks at her, stares, and Lucy squirms. There’s no light aside from the dim light of the flickering candles and the street lamp above, but for a moment she could swear she saw a raging fire in his gaze. It sends a thrill through her, again not an entirely unpleasant one. He’s thinking, watching her as he does, until finally he speaks.
“Lucy Chen, I’m going to give you something that I don’t give many people: a chance to back out. I’m not sure you understand the consequences of your own actions.”
His voice almost sounds like a normal human’s, lacking a touch of the otherworldly. She isn’t sure if that comforts her or not.
“I understand exactly what I’m doing,” Lucy replies, jutting her chin out stubbornly.
“Yeah, I’m not sure you do, sweetheart.”
Lucy bristles, hating that term of endearment and the way it sounds so condescending coming from his lips. And yet, there’s a surprising veneer of concern.
“The woman I talked to—”
“The woman you talked to lures people out here as a service to me. She’s not going to have your best interests at heart.”
Lucy rolls her eyes to the sky, frustration and ire eating away at her gut. She clenches and unclenches her fists again and again before hissing through clenched teeth. “I’m tired of people telling me what I can and cannot do. If I want to give you my soul, then take my damn soul, but give me what I ask.”
In a blink, Tim moves, so preternaturally fast that it’s near dizzying. He’s so close to her now, and Lucy finds she’s not scared, which is precisely why she probably should be worried. Tim seethes, and a blast of heat comes off of him like a furnace, and that roaring fire surges in his eyes once more.
“I would watch your tone, mortal.” His voice flares deeper, that and his closeness a clear intimidation tactic. But he’s underestimated her. He’s underestimated just how far she would go to finish this doctorate. She has worked too damn hard to let some pissant like Jerry Sitwell steal her work and get all the credit.
Lucy stands firm, staring Tim straight into those infernal eyes.
“Are we going to deal or not?” She asks.
Tim falters, the rigid line of his broad shoulders loosening. He takes a fraction of a step back, blinks, and the fire disappears. Lucy notices he doesn’t actually move away from her. Their proximity and his previous movements have caused his scent to reach her, and it’s not sulfuric as she thought. It’s something ancient, timeless, like incense and pine and something floral. As though he just left a forest…or a garden…
“Okay, let’s deal, Lucy Chen.” Tim crosses his arms over his chest, causing the material of his suit jacket to stretch over defined biceps. “You want me to fix your poacher problem so your doctoral defense goes off without a hitch, you become Dr. Chen, and live happily ever after treating fragile human minds, is that correct?”
Lucy sucks in a breath and lets it out steadily. “Yes, that’s correct. And in return, I’m assuming you want my immortal soul? I’m ready to sign on the dotted line, let’s go.”
Half of Tim’s mouth lifts into a diabolical smirk, and Lucy hates that it makes her stomach clench…among other things. Tim thinks on it a moment, before he shakes his head slightly.
“You know what? No…”
Lucy blanches. “I’m sorry? What do you mean ‘ no ’?”
Tim steps forward, closing the distance between them. He’s inside her chalk circle, and she doesn’t even know why she believed it would keep him out. His almost unbearable heat returns, crashing over her, burrowing into her bones, no doubt a preview of what’s to come.
“I think…” he begins, sliding closer still, until they’re mere inches apart. His presence overwhelms her, making her slightly nauseous to be close to such a being, but again she finds that what surprises her most of all is the absence of fear. Instead of fear, Lucy feels something more potent. Something that’s even more concerning. “I think our deal is going to require a little… more .”
His voice has dropped an impossible octave lower, his words a whisper, so much so Lucy feels them against her skin. But not as breath, no, of course not. Why would such an entity require oxygen? It was something else, something she could not even begin to understand. Her eyes flutter shut, lips parting on a gasp. Her nipples harden beneath her shirt, and she sways a little. The night around them is warm, and there is not much of a breeze to speak of. Tim’s probably enthralled her somehow, and Lucy thinks that she doesn’t mind one bit.
“M-More?” She utters.
“Mmhmm…” Tim hums, leaning in to her, bending slightly to bring their faces closer. He’s nearly a head taller than her, but he might as well have been eight feet taller with how much he seems to surround her. “You see…I can handle your terms, but what I need to do to fulfill them will take a little more effort on my part than the normal deals I make.”
Lucy swallows. “I-In what way?”
Tim grins, baring white teeth. “You see, Lucy Chen, you mortals are all the same. You want the dream job, you want a fortune…that’s easy. I just snap my fingers, and it happens. But you, Lucy Chen, are unlike other mortals I’ve dealt with over the centuries. I’m not exactly a revenge demon. People summon me for material wealth or to get that one person to fall in love with them. Oh, I can pull this off for you, no problem, I do relish a little sport, but it will cost you a little more.”
“Something more than my soul?”
The demon nods, and lifts his hand to brush the pad of his thumb across her cheekbone, then down her jaw. Where he touches, her skin crackles with energy. “You’re pretty fearless, for a human. You’ve got a fire in you…”
“ What else do you want? ” Lucy grits out, wishing he would just cut to the chase.
“I want you.”
Lucy’s eyes widen, and she attempts to take a step back, but Tim snakes a hand around her waist, holding her in place. “Oh no, definitely not. It’s my soul, and nothing else.”
His thumb continues to track across her face, warming her body further. Lucy’s nipples tighten almost painfully, and wetness pools between her legs. He’s oozing raw carnality, and she hates that she is the very opposite of adversely affected by it.
“Okay. That’s fine.” Tim moves quickly, putting himself outside of the circle again, away from her. Lucy sways on her feet from the sudden loss of his hold. “There’ll be no deal.” He turns, and makes to walk away.
Panic rises in Lucy’s throat, seeing her future disappearing in Tim’s smooth strides.
Would it be worth it? The revenge, the PhD, her parents approval, the lifetime of helping people who need her…. Is it worth her soul and her body?
“Wait,” she calls out before she can stop herself. Tim stops immediately, and turns, the small smile on his face knowing. He knew she wouldn’t have let him walk away. “You do this for me, and you get my soul and… me. How will it work?”
Tim shrugs, and it’s such a human gesture that it seems out of place for him to do it. “You will live out your life here, doing what you want, and all I’m asking is when I come knocking on your door, you let me in.”
Lucy feels a little of that spark coming back, and she crosses her arms over her chest, breath hitching as her arms brush over her nipples. Damn her body.
“Will it be worth my time?”
Tim is crowding her again in a flash, pressing against her front. Lucy gasps at the feel of his solid form against her and the strength in his arms as they encircle her waist. His lips hover centimeters from hers, so close she can feel the whisper of them as he speaks. “Dear Lucy, you have no idea…” Heat flares in her chest and sends lust pouring down her body, the sound of his voice more sin than she had believed it to be earlier. “I will bring you unimaginable pleasure unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. I will take you to heights you’ve never dreamed of. All your mortal lovers will pale in comparison to the ways I will make your body sing.”
A shaky breath leaves her parted lips, the fire within her now reaching a fever pitch.
This is absolutely insane. It is the dumbest thing she could possibly do. And yet she knows, down to the marrow near boiling in her bones, that he can do all he’s saying and much more. If she was to condemn her immortal soul to the depths of hell anyway, she might as well get some sort of hedonistic pleasure from the entity you check under the bed for as a child. If the lore was to be believed, witches were humans that pledged their lives to demons for power and earthly pleasure. Why not Lucy?
“And do we seal this deal with a kiss?” She asks. The woman at the shop had said as much, the simple contact making the deal binding for all eternity.
Tim shakes his head minutely, tightening his grip around her waist. “No. I don’t think we’ll bind this deal with just a kiss.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Tim lift his hand, and with a resounding snap, she’s gone from the crossroads in No Where, California…
… and ends up somewhere else entirely.
The room is large, almost the size of her entire apartment and is lit by dozens of flickering candles spread throughout, their wax dripping onto wooden tables and stone ledges, and a crackling fire in the stone fireplace. The edges of the room are dim, only just enough light for Lucy to make out that the walls are also stone. There are heavy drapes and tapestries hanging from the walls, like something one would see in a castle. In the middle of the room is a raised platform with lots of pillows and gauzy curtains hanging around the giant bed.
The scene is straight out of every historical romance novel she’s devoured over the years, and once more, she knows it’s not coincidence. She should probably be concerned with how he’s been pulling this information from her, but she can’t seem to care. Not now that Tim cups his large hand against the side of her face, fingers tangling in her dark hair. His other arm still grips her tightly against him, and the light of the fire and candles glimmers in those fathomless eyes. She’s riveted, drowning in the depths of how ancient his gaze feels. She thinks she might glimpse the intimate, deep knowledge he seems to possess about her.
“Last chance, Lucy Chen,” Tim quietly declares, his eyes tracking across her face, as though cataloguing every feature. He bends closer, again just out of reach of her lips, making her want to whine out of frustration. “Do we have a deal?”
There’s incense burning somewhere, and it fills the air, cloying her senses. It’s the same incense she burns in her apartment from time to time, but this time it’s different. It makes her feel a little light headed, a little less tense, loose and more willing, complete putty in his hands.
This is the ultimate cautionary tale. The story that exists in every culture, in every time. The young maiden seduced by the demonic beast, condemning her pure soul in exchange for the world. She should order him to take her back to her car, shout that there would be no deal.
But my, this feels like a wonderful day to burn.
Lucy rocks forward onto her toes, bringing their lips ever closer. For a moment, Tim’s eyes bleed red before returning to that indescribable blue.
“Deal.”
Tim’s lips descend, and she’s falling, or rather, he’s laying her on the bed, settling his hips between her legs. His kiss is not gentle, it’s rough and devouring, and his tongue claims every inch of her mouth. His teeth drag across her bottom lip, her tongue, and it shouldn’t be hot but the arousal wells. Lucy clings with all her might to his broad shoulders as he consumes her, stealing the breath from her lungs. This alone makes her toes curl, and her fingers dig into the material of his pressed suit.
He wrenches his lips away, and she hates that she follows, trying to reclaim them. Tim chuckles low, and it shoots a bolt of heat down her spine. He raises his right hand again, and using those elegant fingers, presses his forefinger and thumb together and snaps. Instantly, Lucy’s clothes disappear, leaving her completely nude to his gaze. He’s done the same for himself —gone are the suit and polished shoes, revealing the man —demon —beneath.
Lucy isn’t sure what she expected. A tail? Scales? Instead, his body is lean and hard, with a defined torso and long legs, all wrapped in tan, damn near burnished skin. The candle and firelight almost make him seem as though he’s glowing. Lucy has never seen anything so beautiful, and she is reminded that demons are supposedly fallen angels. The most gorgeous of God’s creations. Across his right pectoral, Lucy spots a whirling design of the darkest black ink. It’s a symbol she’s never seen before, and she is most likely never meant to understand it.
She has to touch.
Lucy smooths her palm across a shoulder, down his clavicle and sternum, feeling the bumps of muscle beneath her fingertips as she continues. Her fingers take a few moments to trace the black marking, and she takes some satisfaction from seeing Tim close his eyes at the sensation, pushing into her touch. She moves on, and moans embarrassingly loudly when she wraps her hand around the hard cock hanging heavy between them. Dragging her palm down, she traces the thick shaft, finding that she almost can’t curl her fingers around him.
“Oh God,” she breathes, and Tim laughs, brushing a strand of her hair from her face.
“He’s not here, Lucy. Just me.” He leans in, grazing his teeth across her jaw, then retraces his path, soothing with his lips. “No need to be concerned,” Tim states, matter of factly. “It’ll fit inside you just fine.”
Tim flicks his wrist and the hand she’d been using to stroke his cock shoots up, pinned by an invisible force to the bed. He repeats the motion for her other wrist, and just like that she’s at his mercy.
Her chest heaves as she tries in vain to catch her breath. They’ve barely begun, but already Tim has her panting, and as he slides down her body, her back arches into his mouth as he drags it across her abdomen.
“Open wide for me, sweetheart,” he commands softly, leaving no room for protest—not that Lucy would at this point. This time the endearment hits differently, not condescending, but almost sweet. Lucy parts her thighs wider, revealing more of herself to him. Tim uses his hands to silently coax her to bend her knees, pressing them up and away. Her face heats in embarrassment at being so bared to him, but Tim just drinks her in, from her face, to the tips of her nipples, to her glistening pussy.
“Has no man ever made you come with just his mouth?” Tim asks her. Her face flushes hotter, and she shakes her head.
“I’ve never been with a man who’s wanted to,” she finds herself admitting.
Tim’s brow furrows and his look is thunderous. He teases his fingertips along the backs of her thighs, then skims his palms around her hips and up her sides, sending Lucy spiraling at the simple touches. His thumbs catch on her nipples, flicking the pads surprisingly gently. Lucy cries out, craning into his touch.
Spurred on by her, Tim rises to attack her mouth again, plunging his tongue inside. Lucy squirms, pulling against her invisible tethers to get at him, to touch him. Tim just chuckles against her lips at her efforts, and presses slow, open mouth kisses to her chin, then down the line of her neck. Those thumbs are doing maddening things to her nipples, making her impossibly wetter. His mouth continues back down her body, leaving feather light kisses across her belly, nipping and sucking little marks into her tender skin that will be gone too soon. As he moves, he emphasizes each kiss with an oath. “I will find every man you have ever slept with, and flay them alive for never wanting to taste you.”
And then his palms are cupping her thighs and pressing them out of the way, giving him all the access he needs. Tim doesn’t waste time. His mouth lowers, and he’s licking a stripe from her entrance to her clit. Lucy cries out and tilts her hips to press into his mouth, wanting more of the mind altering sensation. Tim’s tongue is hotter than any human’s, but he’s learned to use it. He doesn’t use kitten licks like she’s seen men use in porn, but instead practically seals his whole mouth over her pussy, pressing his tongue deep into her entrance. He starts making little sounds of pleasure as if he were experiencing a gourmet meal, humming as he laps every drop of her wetness that he can.
“Tim… Oh G- Tim… more… more…”
“So greedy,” he says, his words slightly muffled as though his mouth were full, and she supposes it is after a fashion.
Tim presses the flat of his tongue against her clit, then flicks at the engorged nub with the tip. He continues to alternate with varying degrees of pressure, playing Lucy, strumming her body like an instrument, building her up to something. Something she has never experienced before. It’s so fucking good, the pleasure he brings her, that she still can’t seem to catch her breath.
He continues his ministrations, expert tongue twirling designs against her clit. She can’t be certain, but she thinks he’s spelling something out. The letters don’t feel like the Latin alphabet, however. Tim does this with such force that it feels like ownership, to the point Lucy is sure he’s branding her with some sort of magic, a supernatural force that would keep any other man away from her.
“Tim… please,” she doesn’t recognize the desperation in her voice. She sounds like every girl in a porn flick, like a needy slut who can’t move on with her life without an orgasm.
“Say it, Lucy…” Tim says, and she can feel his lips move against her pussy. She looks down the length of her body to see him staring back at her, his mouth and chin dripping with her wetness.
“Make me come. Please. Tim, make me come…”
As soon as she utters the words, Tim becomes relentless. He plunges his tongue into her, fucking her, promising much more than just his tongue, and soon. He swirls his tongue up the length of her, gathering more of her arousal, before he’s sucking hard at her clit.
Lucy feels her body tightening, preparing for that bliss a good orgasm brings. Her head thrashes side to side, eyes rolling up as Tim accomplishes what he set out to do. He scrapes his teeth against the sensitive bundle of nerves just this side of rough and sends Lucy diving over the cliff.
She screams, mouth open in a lovely ‘O’ as pleasure rockets through every nerve ending, every corner of her body, until she feels the orgasm in the fucking roots of her hair. Tim’s mouth continues, a little gentler this time, working her through the orgasm, pulling every little bit from her that he can manage until she’s sagging bonelessly into the plush softness of the mattress beneath them.
Lucy is vaguely aware of Tim climbing back up her body, his fingers curling around her wrists that are no longer bound. He slides her arms a little higher above her head, and cradles her hands in his, threading their fingers together. Tim kisses her lazily, mostly tongue so that she can taste herself. Lucy’s moan is swallowed by his lips as she does her best to keep up with him, sucking his tongue into her mouth to get every last drop.
She isn’t sure she can survive another orgasm like that. But then, she remembers that she’s Lucy Chen, and she can take whatever he gives her. Lucy catches his bottom lip between her teeth and tugs, and she hums in satisfaction when he groans. Curling a leg around his, Lucy shoves, rolling them, flipping their positions. Tim seems surprised, and she grins.
“You weren’t kidding about unimaginable pleasure,” Lucy huffs.
The smirk that tugs at his lips is feral, and he relinquishes his hold on her hands to glide his palms down her sides, the ample curve of her hips, and grips at her thighs. “I may be a demon, but I don’t lie.”
Lucy snorts. “Mmhmm… sure…”
There’s a flare of defiance in his eyes. Clearly he hates to be challenged, but she’s in this deep, might as well embrace it. “I wasn’t lying either when I said I’d fit…” Tim says, grinding up against her. Lucy yelps at the feel of his hard length dragging along her still sensitive core, nearly unseating her. Tim surges up, snaking his arm around her waist to hold her against him, slotting her into the cradle of his hips. His cock is fucking hot, his skin searing. Tim will burn her, and Lucy can’t find it in her to care.
“Show me,” she goads, their noses bumping together, lips pressing against each other feather light.
“You want me to show you?” Tim breathes, flattening both hands against her back, massive and calloused, tickling along her spine and shoulder blades. “You want me to prove my fat cock will fit in that tight pussy?”
Lucy moans, feels her pussy ache at the thought, dripping and so ready. She lifts herself, pressing her forehead against his, cupping the back of his neck between her palms, fingers playing in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “Fuck me,” she says, this time the one to command. The words whisper against Tim’s lips, plush and red from their kisses. Lucy could kiss him for hours, for eternity. For now she settles for a soft kiss. “Fuck me, make me crave only you.”
Tim emits an inhuman growl, but it’s the sexiest thing Lucy’s ever heard. He’s reaching between them, guiding the head of his cock to her dripping hole, and notches into her. He makes no move to push further in, so Lucy lowers herself, sinking inch by inch, wincing at the invasion, the thickness of him, tearing her open in this pleasure-pain she could get addicted to.
“Auhhh,” she moans, the sound branded into his cheek, as she fully sits on his massive cock.
“Fuck,” Tim answers, dragging out the syllable in a strangled groan. It’s deep, sexy, ethereal, and she could come from the sound of it alone.
Tim makes no effort to move, and neither does she, needing a moment to adjust to him. He’s clinging to her as much as she’s clinging to him, their faces close, eyes locked. It’s intimate, too intimate for this demon she’s only just met, but it feels right. More right than anything ever has in her life. She doesn’t know what that says about her, but again, she doesn’t care.
Lucy wiggles her hips experimentally, and she gasps, her fingertips digging into his neck.
Tim takes her cue, pushing up gently. This time, their moans are shared, echoing in the space around them. His hands slide down, large and strong, and grip bruisingly at the globes of her ass, directing her movements as Lucy begins to sway up and down, setting a slow rhythm.
“ Lucy Chen,” Tim grunts, holding onto her like she might fall away. “I’ve walked the earth for millenia. And never—” They moan together again, and Lucy shifts her arms, wrapping them around his neck. “—never have I felt…a sweeter pussy…”
Lucy huffs in amusement, working her thighs to raise herself up the length of him, feeling every dip and ridge of him rub against her. It’s pure bliss, and the pleasure only mounts higher as she moves faster. Her thighs burn from the exertion, but she pushes through it. Tim starts to buck into her, using his hard grip on her ass to grind her down against him, catching her clit against his pubic bone.
Their breathing grows ragged, falling into pattern with each other. Their gasps become more and more shallow, more desperate to reach that height together. Tim meets her, thrust for thrust, and he hits so deep Lucy’s eyes damn near cross.
Lucy can feel herself tiring. Tim does too, quickly adjusting his hold to lift her up and down, pistoning his cock inside of her faster and faster. Lucy cries out, can feel that coil inside of her tightening and tightening, rocketing her higher and higher than she’s ever been before. Her fingers rake down his back, leaving bloody tracks that heal almost instantly. She scrabbles for purchase, giving her last best effort to work her pussy against him.
With one last great thrust, Lucy explodes. The intensity of it almost feels like she really does disintegrate. Her head is thrown back, and she cries out, wailing her pleasure into the void of wherever they are. Her body shakes, and once again Tim drags the orgasm out as he thrusts again and again, and finally allows himself his own release. Tim keens, burying his face against her neck as he comes, emptying himself inside of her.
They collapse to the bed, and Lucy sucks in short breaths, trying to return to equilibrium. After that, she might never get back there.
Tim slides from her, to Lucy’s dismay. She moans when she feels his release drip from her body, and she has the strange urge to scoop it back into her, to keep it there.
“This is the best deal I’ve ever made,” Tim declares, brushing fingers through Lucy’s sweat damp hair.
Lucy laughs. “Should that be my line?”
Tim just grins, tracing the soft skin of her cheek and jaw with his finger. “We’re going to have a lot of fun together, Lucy Chen.” He leans in, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. It’s too sweet for something a demon might do, but Lucy isn’t complaining.
Exhaustion tugs at the edges of her consciousness, and her eyes droop. She wants to stay awake, wants to go another round, but he’s fucked the energy right out of her.
“Sleep,” he soothes. “I’ve got you.”
~*~
Lucy opens her eyes to find herself back in her bed, in her apartment, in the city. She’s groggy, akin to the morning after a night of drinking. She sits up, scrubbing her palm over her face as she brushes off sleep. Pulling the duvet and sheet back slightly, she finds she’s clothed in her usual t-shirt and cotton pajama bottoms. Her hair is wild and falling in waves around her, and she pushes the tresses away to get a good view of her room. It looks the same as always.
Lucy presses her palms to her chest, then stomach, then sternum. She feels the same, for the most part. Maybe a little more relaxed. And maybe a little sore…
Had it all been a dream?
The shrill tone of her cell blares, causing her to jolt in surprise. She reaches out to the bedside table, feeling around for the device. Her fingers find purchase, and pull it closer. She squints at the screen, and her stomach sinks.
It’s her advisor.
“Hello?” She answers, voice breaking slightly from sleep.
“Hey Lucy,” Dr. Andrade greets. “I’m just calling to let you know that it’s been brought to our attention that Jerry Sitwell’s stolen your research. I wanted to let you know that Mr. Sitwell’s been removed from the program. I’m so sorry that happened to you, Lucy. But know that you’re still able to go ahead with your defense and the submission of your final dissertation.”
To say that Lucy is shocked would be an understatement. She’s gaping at the opposite wall, unable to believe her luck.
“Thank you for letting me know, Dr. Andrade. I’ll be there for our final meeting tomorrow.”
“Lovely!” Dr. Andrade trills, and Lucy’s never been so grateful to hear that woman’s pleasantness.
Lucy disconnects the call and allows the phone to fall to the bed. She sits in stunned silence for a while, then a triumphant grin spreads slowly across her face. Lucy gets to her feet, allowing a couple of victory jumps on the mattress before jumping down off the bed. She turns back around, ready to make her bed and start off her day. Something catches her eye—a single sunflower sits on the pillow opposite hers. Lucy hurries around the bed, grabbing the thick stem to find a note underneath. It’s a small piece of paper, folded in half once. Lucy opens it, her heart lurching at the words written in an elegant hand:
Lucy,
Your poacher problem has been taken care of.
I look forward to our next meeting.
~ T.
Lucy sinks heavily back onto the mattress, clutching the flower and the note in her hands.
It was real. It had happened. And there was no going back.
For once, Lucy feels no guilt for playing with fire. Fire had played back, and damn had it felt good.