"I didn't say that."
"You didn't need to. I can smell how turned on you are. How much do you want to bet that if my hand drifted down," he said, his fingers teasing over my lower stomach, "I would find your pussy drenched?"
My chest felt tight, my breath coming out too hard, too fast.
I could feel myself relaxing against him, my body inviting more closeness, as my head rested on his strong shoulder.
He took the movement as permission, his hand slipping under my skirt.
"I thought I told you to put on panties," he said as his finger traced my slick cleft. "Or were you just waiting for me to do this?" he asked, his thumb moving over my clit.
I couldn't seem to find the words—or the desire—to tell him to move his hand, to stop taking liberties, or to leave me alone.
Because as his finger started teasing little circles around me, all there was in the world was that sensation, that exquisite building, the promise of something worth the wait in the end.
My head turned on his chest, face nuzzling into his neck, breathing in the fiery scent of him as his free arm rose, slid across my belly, then up and into my bra, squeezing my breast with pressure that was just shy of painful, sending another jolt of desire through my system.
My eyes drifted close, allowing me to melt away into the sensations, to blank out everything else that, suddenly, no longer mattered.
Ly's thumb and forefinger squeezed the tightened bud of my nipple before starting to roll it as one of his fingers started to drift down my cleft, tapping against the entrance to my body.
"Tell me you want my finger to fuck you, witch," he demanded, voice in my ear.
He used the word like he always did, like an insult, like a slur. It shouldn't have, but somehow, in that moment, it only made the fire burn hotter through my system.
"Yes," I hissed, my hips starting to rock against his hand, needing more.
"No. You need to say it," he demanded, teasing the tip of his finger inside of me before retreating. "Tell me you want me to finger fuck your pussy," he told me as his thumb pressed a little harder against my clit.
His words were base and filthy.
But there was no denying their truth.
Squeezing my eyes closed a little tighter, I took a steadying breath. "I want you to finger fuck my pussy," I repeated, feeling my cheeks heat in embarrassment.
"That's a good witch," he told me, finger thrusting inside me.
All thoughts of embarrassment evaporated at the sensation, at the unfamiliar fullness inside, the rough but somehow gentle invasion.
A low, rumbling growl worked its way through Lycus's chest and into my body as his finger settled inside, doing a small little turn once seated.
"Fuck," he hissed, his body going tight as his hips shifted, grinding his hard length against my backside, the proof of his desire even more fuel for the fire. "You're so tight," he added, making those muscles inside clench around him. "Can't imagine how good my cock would feel. Here," he added, flicking his finger. "Like this," he went on, withdrawing his finger then thrusting it back in.
His finger was relentless then, nearly slipping all the way out before going back in, fast and consistent, driving my body upward, making my breath get caught, my legs feel weak.
"You want another finger, don't you?"
I didn't know what I needed. Other than release from the torment building inside.
"Y-yes," I whimpered, my hips grinding down on his hand.
Another finger slipped downward as his other finger pulled out. When he thrust back in, there was even more fullness, a slight pinch accompanying it that evaporated almost instantly as the new sensation built, stronger and stronger as his thumb continued to work circles over my clit.
"You want to come, don't you?"
Come.
That sounded like the right word for what I wanted to do.
"Yes," I gasped, one of my hands grabbing the wrist of the one up my skirt, the other lifting, wrapping around the back of his neck, holding on as my leg muscles started to shake.
"Thought so," he agreed, his fingers twisting inside of me. "Your walls are so fucking tight," he added as his fingers crooked inside me, raking against my top wall, causing a new, unexpected sensation. "Yeah," he said when I cried out—a pleased but confused sound. "That's your G-spot," he told me as his fingers raked across it again. "Feels good, yeah?" he asked, his voice rough.
"Yes," I cried out, shameless in my need for release.
"Come," he demanded, his voice a deep, strangled sound, as his fingers continued their sweet torment. "Come, Lenore," he demanded, my name velvet on his lips.
And just like that, I did.
And I did with what seemed like my whole body.
The pleasure started at the base of my spine and spread outward until it overtook me completely, stealing the strength from my legs as the waves crashed through me.
I was vaguely aware of crying out his name at the apex of the orgasm, my fingers clawing at him, holding on for dear life as it felt like I shattered apart.
"Alright," Ly said, voice almost... coaxing—even if that didn't seem like something he was capable of—as I came back down into my body, gasping for air, body trembling wildly, seemingly out of my control. "You're alright," he added, his arm anchoring more tightly around my midsection as his fingers slid out of me, out of my skirt.
"I'm shaking," I told him, as though he couldn't feel that for himself.
"Aftershocks," he told me, and I could feel him shrugging it off.
Aftershocks.
That was an apt way of describing how I felt.
Shaken after.
"It'll stop," he added as they continued, and as I continued to cling, not trusting my legs to hold my weight.
"Who are you corrupting now?" a female voice asked, making Ly instantly tense. Which, in turn, made me do the same, my stomach wobbling as Ly let out a quiet, "Fuck."
"Red, fuck off," he demanded, turning slightly, seeming to try to hide me.
It was right then that I remembered where we were, that there were other people around, and I had a role to play.
"Why should you get to have all the fun? I want to talk to her too."
"No," Lycus said, turning me to face his chest completely, his arm roping around my lower back as his other hand grabbed the back of my neck, keeping my face pinned to him as he turned to face the unknown woman.
"Don't be a killjoy."
"There are dozens of other people here to corrupt."
"Fine. Have your fun," the woman said, and I could hear the sound of her heels clicking away from us.
Neither of us immediately said anything or even moved. I clung to him. He held me to his body.
I'd embraced many women in my life. It had always been nice and comforting.
But this?
This was something new entirely. Something that was both nice and comforting, but managed to be other things as well. Like exciting. And it, oddly, made me somehow feel very small and very protected.
Protected.
In the arms of a demon.
It made no sense.
But there was also no denying that was how it felt, either.
"Think you're done here," Ace's voice said, making the both of us stiffen, but there didn't appear to be anything in his voice that suggested he knew it was me that was clinging to Ly. "There's work to be done," he added before walking off.
Those words seemed to break through whatever emotion had allowed Ly to hold onto me.
He all but flung me away from him.
I flew backward, nearly slamming into the wall with the sudden lack of his strength holding me up.
"Go back to watching people fuck," he told me, something coming down over his face, masking anything real. It was a hard and cold mask, making a shiver course through me. "And don't fucking talk to anyone. Don't make me regret letting you be here, witch," he said, turning on his heel and storming away.
Alone, I fell back ag
ainst the wall, feeling a sudden need to pull the jacket closed in the front, cover up, hide away.
I wasn't familiar with the sensations assaulting my system all at once. But they were reminiscent of sadness, of rejection, of confusion, and of shame.
"You okay?" a female voice asked at my side, making me turn to find a pretty, petite blonde-haired, green-eyed woman standing there in jeans and a loose-fitting sage green shirt, an outfit that seemed out of place in this home full of near-nakedness. Including, it seemed, my own.
It was right then that I realized there was wetness on my cheek, that I had tears flooding my vision.
"I don't know," I admitted, shaking my head, reaching up with one hand to wipe at my cheeks as the other held the front of my jacket closed.
"They're bastards, every one of them," she declared, the vehemence in her voice making me wonder if she had personal experience with their wickedness. "Even the woman."
"Red," I recalled Ly calling her.
"Yeah, Red. She's just as bad but in a different way. Did they hurt you?"
That wasn't an easy question to answer.
Yes and no.
Daily.
And who knew what was to come?
That said, I didn't think any of that was what this woman meant. She meant in the way men could sometimes hurt a woman. When she was unwilling and he refused to respect that.
"No. I just... that shouldn't have happened, is all," I admitted, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks at the idea of anyone watching what Lycus did to me like I had watched other couples during this party.
"They make things that shouldn't happen, happen a lot," the woman said, voice tense, words dripping with vitriol. "I'm Dale," she said, reaching her hand out toward me.
I wasn't supposed to talk to anyone. That was the rule. That said, Ly was nowhere to be seen, and I doubted this woman would tattle on me.
So I slid my hand into hers. "Lenore."
"Pretty. Anyway... don't worry, Lenore. I am going to take every last one of those dem—assholes down," she vowed before walking away, and then right out the front door.
Demons.
She was going to say demons, right?
I hadn't been imagining that.
She'd caught herself at the last second, but she was absolutely going to say demons.
Which meant... what?
It had to mean something.
Since humans didn't believe in demons, not really, not in the literal way. Or if they did, they believed they lived in hell only, or that they did things like possess individuals.
They didn't believe demons walked around wearing the handsome faces of motorcycle-riding men.
So, that meant that this woman, Dale, knew something. Did that make her some sort of witch? I didn't get that feeling from her, that sizzle of connection I felt with my coven. But maybe that had something to do with the fact that she wasn't part of my coven. I knew nothing about other witches. Surely, ours wasn't the only coven. And if other witches didn't live in the woods like we did, perhaps they would walk around the world just like the normal people did.
Maybe they plotted to send the demons back to hell.
How, I had no idea. Since the reason the coven had agreed to the treaty all those years ago was because the demons had proven unkillable, forever stuck on this human plane.
But maybe other witches, modern witches, knew more than we did. Perhaps there was a way to send them all back to hell for good.
I should have been thrilled at the prospect.
Why, then, was there a strange sinking sensation in my chest at the very idea?
This was just all too much, I decided, looking around.
The whole party came rushing back. The thumping of the music, the clash of voices, the shouts and curses as well as all the sights.
Where it had been exciting and fascinating, it now felt overwhelming and ugly.
Stomach twisting hard enough that I felt nausea rise up my throat, I pulled my shoulders up toward my ears, ducked my head, and rushed through the house, escaping into the kitchen, trying to open the door, but finding it locked.
There was no key in sight.
I guess one of the demons—likely Minos—had locked it, assuming I was down there, not wanting any of the party guests to come down and see me.
A small, petty, selfish part of me said to run. No one would see me, or stop me. It was perhaps the only time I could get away with it.
But the other part knew someone would have to pay for it.
Another witch from my coven.
I couldn't put this curse on her, force her into my shoes.
With no other option, I turned to make my way back up to the second floor.
There were sounds from behind some of the closed doors, but this floor was otherwise unoccupied.
Feeling a small bit of relief, I rushed into Ly's room, slamming, and locking the door before rushing into the bathroom.
I stripped out of the new clothes, feeling suddenly like they were burning my skin, like they were an ugly costume I had been wearing all evening, maybe partially responsible for what had happened.
Back in my own gown, I grabbed a cloth and scrubbed at my face with soap and water until all traces of the other version of me were erased from my reflection.
Finished with that, I gathered my long hair and set to carefully braiding it until the woman staring back at me was someone I recognized, even if the hollow look in her eyes was new.
It was okay.
It would all be okay.
As soon as the party was over, Minos would unlock the basement door. Then I could slip back down there.
Then I would stay there.
No more demanding to be a part of the inner workings of this wicked household.
I turned, going toward the bedroom, but my stomach dropped at the idea of being in bed with Ly after what happened, after his brush-off afterward.
Taking a deep breath, I gathered the extra blanket from the bed as well as a towel, moving into the massive tub instead, using it as a makeshift bed.
Hidden, protected, I felt myself drifting off to sleep more quickly than I would have thought.
"The fuck is this shit?" Ly's voice growled, shocking me awake, legs shooting out, spine straightening. All at once. Forgetting about the confines of my bed. My feet and the top of my head slammed into the unyielding porcelain, sending pain through me as my heart hammered in my chest.
"Ow ow ow," I whimpered, my hands going to the top of my head, trying to rub the ache away.
"What the fuck are you doing in the tub?" he demanded as a headache started to pound behind my eyes, the top of my head still throbbing.
"Leave me alone," I demanded, hearing a whine in my voice, hating it there.
"Get the fuck out of there," he demanded.
"I wouldn't be here if the basement wasn't locked," I shot back, anger replacing the surge of sadness I had felt a moment before.
"There's a bed in the other room," he reminded me as though I was too stupid to remember that fact. "Get out," he tried again, reaching down to grab my hand, to pull it away from the top of my head.
And the rage that poured through me sizzled, and zapped at the point of contact between our bodies.
"Fuck," Ly hissed, yanking his hand away as I shot upward.
My mother could shock someone if she got angry. I always figured it was unique to her. But, apparently, it was a family trait. I had just never been angry enough to see it manifest.
The shock on Ly's face as he cradled his hand to his chest matched the sensation I felt inside.
Because, suddenly, I didn't feel quite as powerless.
I might have been forced to live in this house, to be a Sacrifice to this group of evil creatures.
But that didn't mean I was weak.
It didn't mean I had to accept abuse from them.
"Don't grab at me," I told him, angling my chin upward, faking a fierceness I in no way felt.
"No shit," he shot back, pu
lling his arm out to inspect his hand.
It was bloodshot and blistered, a raw-looking wound I knew wouldn't last.
You couldn't kill demons.
You could wound them.
But only temporarily.
And then you would need to deal with their anger afterward.
"Look at me," Ly demanded, drawing my gaze up from his raw hand. "Don't tell Ace you can do that."
"Why not?" I asked, wanting to shout it from the rooftops, needing everyone to know I wasn't weak.
"Trust me."
"Why would I ever do that?" I shot back, feeling my lower lip start to tremble before I forced it to toughen up.
"You might not like me, witch. But I can fucking guarantee that you won't like it if any of the others find out you can do that."
I didn't know what he meant. I didn't want to ask. But there was something in his tone that told me he wasn't lying to me.
The others could never figure out that I could do more than make it rain when I was sad.
"Get out of the tub," he demanded again, glancing at his hand which already looked less red.
Because it was my plan, I climbed out of the tub, moved past Ly, then through his room, to the door.
"Where do you think you're going?" Ly hissed at me as I stepped into the hall.
"Back to the basement."
"I didn't say you had to go," he shot back.
"No," I agreed, turning to look at him. "But I want to."
"And if I said you can't go?" he said, brow raising, clearly not used to being argued with.
"I'd wonder if you were able to stop me," I told him, chin jerking up as I raised my hand, rubbing my fingertips together. It was all for show. I felt nothing, no sizzle of power, but he didn't know that.
To that, his eyes went hard.
"Be very fucking careful," Ly said, teeth clenched as he tried to speak through them. "You don't want to fuck with me, witch."
"Maybe you don't want to fuck with me." The words felt clumsy on my lips, but came out strong.
And while I still felt like I had the upper hand, I made my way slowly down the hall, the stairs, and into the unlocked basement.
Chapter Eight
The Sacrifice: A Paranormal MC Romance Page 7
