Said the Demon to Little Miss Eva

by Billy London

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “Angel, I really have to go. I need to go back north, get my suitcase, my passport and get on a plane.”

  Wait, what the hell? “You're leaving me like this?” She gestured to her naked lower body.

  He smiled. “Times that by 365 days and you'll be where I am.”

  “Gabriel!” she raged.

  He leaned down and pulled the shorts from her ankles and stood between her legs. He called over his shoulder, “Evangeline is coming in five minutes.”

  Damn right I am.

  “Okay.” Martin sounded confused before they heard his footsteps clicking away.

  Gabriel set her firmly on the desk and hooked her booted heels on the edge. “Now, Angel. You and I need to set a few things straight.”

  “After...” she promised, trying to pull him closer.

  “Hands on the desk,” he commanded. Frantic for release, with a huff of disappointment she did as she was told.

  “This,” he said, two fingers sliding easily into her soaked pussy, “belongs to me.” She gave a shuddering cry as he slowly withdrew. “I don't want anyone touching this. Kissing this. Licking this. You understand me?”

  “Done, done and done,” she agreed, sighing and arching her back to send his fingers back into her. His mouth trailed over her neck as his fingers began a steady thrusting, the tips curled over her spot so she shook, each back and forth stroke edging her toward a climax. “I'm going away for two weeks. I know you, you've got the attention span of a goldfish.”

  “No, I don't...do not...not at....no.”

  “You do,” he argued. “So if I let you come....”

  He stopped, his fingers still inside her. She rocked her hips against him. “You wouldn't leave me like this.”

  “Yes I would,” he threatened softly, nipping the skin of her neck as his thumb pressed firmly into her clit. “Is this pussy mine?”

  “Yes,” she groaned.

  “Is anyone else going to touch it?”

  “No!”

  “Say it.”

  “It's your pussy,” she cried out, her whole body lifting toward a glorious orgasm as his hands rubbed over her faster. “Only yours.” Her body rushed into the rigid warmth of her orgasm, flames waving her skin, her juice leaking onto the desk. She shuddered, her voice trembling as the pleasure gradually ebbed away. “Oh my Gabriel.”

  She wrapped her arms around him tightly, until she regained a sense of coordination. Gabriel removed his hand from her. “Remember what you just said.”

  “I barely remember my name, love,” she murmured. “Now, can't I help you?”

  He glanced at his watch. “'Fraid not. I got your new number from your sister. She seemed to think you needed to give it to me.”

  She scrambled over Martin's desk for a pen and paper. “Here. So we can web chat. I want to see your face when you tell me you haven't kicked any groupies from your hotel room.”

  “Ye of little faith,” he said gently.

  “Sod off. And where are my knickers?”

  “None of your business,” he asserted.

  She growled something disparaging under her breath and used the tissues on Martin's desk to make herself decent. She pulled on her shorts and hoped she didn't look as contented as she felt. Where was a bed when you needed one?

  “Now I'm branded,” she announced. “But I can wait two weeks. I can.” Her voice rose with a flashing look from those wolf eyes of his. “I am not a bitch in heat.”

  He leaned down and gave her a light kiss, watching her the whole time. “I'll call you tomorrow.”

  “Hmm, we'll see.”

  Those eyes seemed all knowing. “You will, yes. Bye, Angel.”

  She grabbed him by the arm, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. To say thank you. To say well done. To say you're mine too. “See you in two weeks.”

  He left the office with a smile and her lipstick all over his face. Let the paparazzi catch him with a woman's color all over him. That was her brand right there. She gave it a few minutes before she drifted out of the office and ran into Jo.

  Jo looked her up and down for a full minute before stating loudly, “He fucked you again, didn't he?”

  Eva gave her sister a dreamy grin. “I think I have to marry him now.”

  ***

  Martin didn't mention the brothel smell in his office, only tallied up her sales less his commission and sent her on her way. Her body still had the muted throb of her orgasm playing over her. If this was what he was like when he was cross with her, she needed to send some rage to the man.

  A taxi helped her carry all the flowers, champagne and other gifts in the back. Still dreamy, she made her way inside her flat and heaved all her goodies onto the kitchen counter. The news was on. She could have sworn she’d turned the TV off when she left. She turned it off again and unplugged it from the wall. Locking her front door, she floated into the bathroom and cleared the makeup from her face. She removed the linked pearl strands from her 'fro and plaited it for the night before curling into bed like a little contented cat.

  Playing with the charms on her bracelet, she grinned to herself. Far more attractive than a cattle brand. She removed it and placed it carefully on the side table. Gabriel, she thought with a grin, as her hands drifted over her sensitized body. You'd better sing damn fast.

  Chapter Three

  He pulled her firmly onto her knees, spreading the cheeks of her bottom firmly apart, watching her juices trickle along her pale thighs. His cock speared into her with one brutal thrust, and she gave a scream of pleasure. His hands moved to tangle in her blonde ringlets, forcing her to arch her back as he started to fuck her. It was Michael's voice that whispered in her ear, “Little Miss Eva likes to fuck.”

  Eva's eyes prized open. What the hell was that about? Actually, what the hell had Gabriel done to her? She had clearly gone too long without a good seeing to. The sexy bastard could have at least satisfied her properly before buggering off to California. Selfish prick, she thought, then started to giggle to herself. If he'd given her a prick she wouldn't be having dreams like that. She glanced at her bedside clock. Ten to two. Pathetic. She grabbed her headphones and iPod, scrolling through her music until she came to Gabriel's album, hoping that she'd be sent right back into a sex dream. One that would at least feature her own Juicy Couture ass.

  Blondie again. Eva could see her one blue eye through the floorboards. She pushed against them. They rattled but stayed in place. Eva pushed again harder, only for them to close more tightly against her. She lost the breath from her lungs at the realization that the space was growing smaller. As if she were in a coffin, the wood pressing against her chest. “Blondie!” she yelled, ramming her fist against the wood. “Get me out!”

  She stopped banging. Blondie hadn't blinked. The floorboard ripped open and Blondie's head dropped onto Eva's chest, shreds of skin protruding from her severed neck, blood pouring over Eva's skin. A clawed hand grasped Eva's jaw. “Curious Little Miss Eva.”

  She was fighting before she opened her eyes. Her bedroom door slammed shut and she jolted awake, her nerves jangling with fear. Oh my god. Grim, Grim, Grim. A touch to her chest found it slick with her own sweat, the lead of her headphones tangled around her. She turned on the side light and looked at her closed door. Maybe it had been part of the dream. She remembered closing it when she went to sleep. She unscrambled herself from the headphones and placed them and the iPod on the bedside table. 3:03 a.m. She got up and opened her bedroom window for some fresh air and tugged on dry night clothes. A sense of curiosity took her to her mobile. There was a text from Gabriel at three exactly. Just two weeks, Angel, and I'll make my ownership worth your while.

  She laughed out loud, the spell of fear evaporating. After reading the text over a few times, she put the phone to one side. Moaning. That was the sound drifting from her ceiling. And rhythmic banging. Oh great, my neighbors are having what I should have got. She simply
decided to join them rather than beat them and leaned over her bed, pulling out a flower-patterned box. The Train would sort her out and send her right back to sleep. Dead girls or no.

  ***

  The knocking jolted her awake. Her clock read eleven a.m. Who the hell was knocking? Who the hell wanted to die today? She picked up a bathrobe and padded to the door.

  Opening the door a crack, she saw Michael standing on the other side. Oh god, come on! She was not prepared for this. A mirror wasn't even remotely necessary to warn her that she looked awful, and compounding the issue, her eyes were gritty and she was still shaking from the shock of being woken up so violently.

  “Hi, Eva.”

  “Hey,” she rasped. Mornings when she had a blink for a sleep, she sounded like she was suffering from bronchitis like some Charles Dickens orphan about to die.

  “Sorry, I'm the awful neighbor upstairs.”

  She closed her eyes for a brief moment of confusion. She could still hear his voice, Little Miss Eva.... “What?”

  “I live above you.” He gave a hesitant smile. “I saw your name on one of the envelopes at the post corner.”

  He was making her think. Why did he want her to think? He was making her think and oh god, now all she could think of was that sex dream. “Sorry, do you want to come in?”

  She opened the door wider and allowed him to step into her flat. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, looking very bright eyed and bushy tailed. No one needed to look that jovial. No one.

  He pushed his hands into his pockets. “I like what you've done.”

  “I went a bit mad,” she admitted. Her flat was an explosion of Moroccan colors. “Do you want a cup of tea? I just got up.”

  “I'll have a coffee if you have it?”

  She pulled the hood of her bathrobe over her hair. “You're lucky I like the smell.”

  She turned the kettle on and there was the strangest sense of having done this before, with Michael sitting at the breakfast bar waiting for her to present him with a cup. Where do I know this guy from?

  He looked at her with wary round eyes. “I didn't come to steal coffee off you, I did actually come to apologize.”

  “Why?” she asked, rubbing at her stinging eyes.

  “For, er...” He gave an embarrassed laugh. “Being a bit loud last night. All the banging noises...”

  Eva started to laugh. “Oh, that was you! Don't worry, I was having really odd dreams.”

  Michael put a paper bag on the bar along with a newspaper. “I brought you some muffins. You also made the party pages.”

  “That's really sweet of you, thank you!” She placed the French press in front of him and a small espresso cup. “There we are. Now you owe me sugar.”

  He gazed at her. “I really am sorry. No one's lived under me for a while and I forget how loud it is.”

  “It? Or your friend?” Eva took a grateful sip of tea. “Where is your friend this morning? Packed off into a minicab?”

  Michael reached into the bag and extracted a muffin. “She had an early assignment.”

  “Ah, that old story.” Eva picked up a muffin with another yawn. “I thought she was in pain, she was screaming so loud.”

  Michael rubbed a hand over his own face as the coffee brewed and she poured the dark liquid into his cup. “Fuck, I am such a twat. If you need anything...candles, sugar, free phone calls to Antarctica...just come over.”

  “I'm an eight-hour sleep girl, so I'll hold you to that.” They touched cups in a toast.

  “Great exhibition by the way,” he said eventually, peeling at the cupcake case.

  “Thank you, I thought it went really well. Surprisingly well. Good canapés too.”

  There was the slightest hesitation in his voice as he ventured, “I wondered, if it’s not a massive ask, if you wouldn't mind doing a portrait of me.”

  Ooh, not a great idea.

  Michael watched her carefully. “What's the matter?”

  “I need to discuss it.”

  “With your publicist?”

  “I don't have one, it's just...” I made promises about my lady area, and you are doing weird things to it which probably means I should leave you alone.

  Michael nodded, an awareness in his face. “Boyfriend.”

  “Not exactly.” How did pussy ownership translate in relationship terms?

  “Gabriel Walker?” he asked, his eyes narrowing imperceptibly. Eva didn't answer, finding the color of her tea extremely fascinating. “He and I dated the same girl. He hates me.”

  That brought her head up. “Really? That's not really his style. When you say dated the same girl...”

  “He went on tour, and she—Renee—couldn't be bothered to wait around,” he finished tightly, looking down into his cup.

  “Oh,” Eva murmured. “He tends to do that a lot.”

  He gave a bark of a laugh. “You don't seem like the type of girl who does what her boyfriend tells her.”

  True, but Gabriel was as straight as a ruler. There was no bullshit about him whatsoever. But she also was a grown woman who could make her own decisions. It was just a portrait. He wasn't going to be kissing, touching or licking anything anywhere near her lower body. “I'm not. But I've got a work schedule to keep to. And he's not my boyfriend.”

  He obviously could taste rebellion in her words and pressed a little more. “Just a small one. You could even do it in pencil.”

  “I haven't used pencil since school! Mate, you don't know my work at all, do you?”

  His eyes crinkled with a smile. “Are you going to let me find out?”

  She stared at him for a moment, trying to read any underlying malicious motivation. He seemed lonely, like he needed a friend. What troubles had he seen for him to be successful in what he did and yet feel alone? “You don't seem like the type who wants a portrait done,” she said finally.

  “I'm less introverted than you think.” He gave her a sweet grin. “Look, you're my neighbor. Before you vanish off somewhere else to find inspiration, it would be pretty good going if I got a portrait done by you. What do you think?”

  She could do with the distraction. She picked up her bag, scrambling for her diary. “Okay, when are you free?”

  “Tomorrow maybe?”

  “Tomorrow sounds fine,” she agreed, penciling in a note.

  He got to his feet. “I'll stop disturbing you. What if I pop around again about the same time?”

  “Great.”

  He bit into his bottom lip at her flat tone. Wow, an artist in the room with another person, and the artist is the one who isn't being overly sensitive.

  “Michael,” Eva said patiently, “you're going to have to understand that I am not a morning person, especially when I have neighbors who make me listen to their all-night good time.”

  He bowed his head in shame. “Message received. I'll see you tomorrow.”

  She saluted as he left, leaving a clean lemony scent in his wake. That really didn't help with the sex dream. Maybe she was in heat, because her pussy had been on muted pulse the whole time he had been sitting opposite her, all soapy and fresh. It was obviously Gabriel's fault.

  The paper called to her and she opened it with one eye open. A few pages in was a picture of Gabriel getting into his car, traces of her lipstick on his face. She grinned, then laughed when she caught the picture that the photographer had snapped of them. She could still feel his thumb on her hip. And everywhere else. They looked good together, and anyone who knew Eva could see the sexual glee in the curve of her lips.

  She flicked through the rest of the paper and came to a grinding halt. Blonde curly hair. Blue eyes. MISSING MODEL FOUND. She skimmed the article to read that Kaylie Hancock, twenty-two years old from East Ham, had been missing for a week and was found in her flat when her neighbors complained of the smell. One of the neighbors had commented that “Kaylie buckled under pressure, she wanted to be as skinny as those other girls. It happens.”

  Eva turned the paper to the front
page. It had the day's date on it. She was the same girl from her dream. She could feel her severed head on her chest. Maybe she had her confused with someone else. There had been models at the exhibition yesterday. That was the only logical explanation why she was having violent dreams about girls she didn't know.

  Chapter Four

  He had her wrists tied behind her back, her arms locked underneath her own body, rose-tipped breasts tight and goose pimpled. Eva could feel the cold of his breath on her skin as three graying thick spiked nails scratched at the girl's flesh from neck to hip bone, drawing pearls of blood. He lapped at them before he buried his face in the girl's pussy, his nose nudging at her clit before he reared up, grabbing her by the thighs, and drove into her with his cock. She bucked at the sensation of him. He felt thicker inside her this time; perversely, he felt so much colder. Eva felt her own hand delving between her thighs, caressing her own clit in gentle circles, as he pushed into the girl, reddening the delicate skin around the girl's tender pussy. He leaned down and bit at her neck, tearing at the flesh.

  “I don't like this,” Eva said, and she felt her words moving the girl's mouth.

  Wake up, wake up, wake up! she commanded herself, despite the moan escaping from her as he continued to pound into her, the full weight of him on top of her, the strain on the girl's arms tugging at Eva's muscles. The girl looked to her left, into the mirrors that lined the wall of his bedroom. She screamed, the sound piercing Eva's skull it was so high. Eva didn't want to look, she didn't want to see what was in that reflection, but the girl couldn't look away. She saw serrated teeth and eyes flashing red. WAKE UP!

  “You like my cock, don't you, Little Miss Eva?”

  Get up, Evangeline.

  “Stay and I'll make you come real hard.”

  She jumped as she heard the blast of Katy B on the stereo before a DJ's jovial tones sounded at ridiculous volume in the flat. 'Welcome to Kiss FM! It's now quarter to three, stay with us and we'll keep you up all through the night.'