The Price of Brimstone

by Allie Gail

  “Who is that?” I ask, once I'm sure we won't be overheard.

  “Who? The driver? That's just Silas.”

  “Your personal assistant?” Great. So apparently the stalker is a jack of all trades. I wouldn't doubt he also moonlights as a graverobber.

  “Yes, that's right.”

  “He's a demon, isn't he.” I state it as an observation rather than a question. I'm pretty sure I already know the answer.

  “Ah, Silas won't bother you.” Loc winks at me, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “He wouldn't dare.”

  I'll take that as a confirmation.

  “Does that mean he...um...he's possessing somebody else's body, then?”

  His laugh is coldly apathetic. “Don't waste your sympathies. The fellow was a homeless junkie with a rap sheet a mile long. His life was going nowhere. And I must say, the physique suits him to a tee. Silas has quite a knack for selecting hosts that reflect his...distinctive personality.”

  “He gives me the creeps,” I mutter, wrinkling my nose.

  “Precisely why it suits him. He's a creepy individual. Always did have a flair for the macabre.”

  “I've seen him before. Last night, as a matter of fact.” Distracted by the opulent interior, I resist the urge to press some of the buttons for the audio system just to see what happens. The windows are so dark you'd have a hard time determining whether it's night or day from in here. As a result, the fiber optic lights in the roof's headliner are twinkling like stars.

  Does he always travel like this? I can't help but feel a hundred leagues out of my element. I didn't even get a limo for prom. We went in his dad's Honda.

  “Have you? Doesn't surprise me. His instructions were to keep an eye on you, after all.” Using a pair of tongs, he drops a couple of ice cubes into a glass. “Care for a drink?”

  Frowning, I decline with a shake of my head. “Keep an eye on me for what? What did you think I was going to do, make a break for it?”

  “You misunderstand. His job was to protect you, not to spy on you.” He pours some amber whiskey out of a crystal decanter before relaxing back, one arm propped casually on the seat behind my head. “Your safety is of utmost importance to me.”

  Well, that was...not what I was expecting to hear. “Why? What do you care what happens to me?”

  He doesn't answer right away. Instead he slowly drains the contents of his glass, then sets it back on the polished wood surface of the mini bar. He taps a screen, and soft music plays from subwoofers that are camouflaged somewhere around us.

  Only then does he turn to me with a salacious smile.

  “Because I want you, lovely. And I always get what I want.”

  I freeze like an animal caught in headlights. Does he want to do this already? Right now, right here in the limo? Oh my God...he's so close, I can smell the spicy scent of whiskey on his breath. Weirdly, it's like an aphrodisiac, sending primal heat rushing through me in a way I can't explain.

  I want to taste him. I want to slide my tongue inside his mouth and savor every individual note of that liquor. I want to do things to him that I never would've had the nerve to try with anyone else. What is it about this guy? All my inhibitions are swept away, lost in the vast blue sky of his eyes. And right now they are gleaming at me like those of a hungry predator.

  Never has a rabbit been so willingly snared.

  “I fully intended to take my time with you,” he murmurs, gliding a finger across my lips. “At least, that was the original plan. But you see, being that I'm seldom denied anything I want, the concept of self-control is something of a novelty to me. I'm not sure I'll find it to my liking. Moderation and restraint – all that is fine and well but there's a lot to be said for instant gratification, don't you think?”

  I gaze back at him, tongue-tied and mesmerized. Does he expect me to respond? I have no idea what he wants to hear.

  “What do you say, love?” Cupping my chin in his hand, he studies me intently. “Should I help myself to your sweet little cherry here and now, or should I hold on to it and savor the anticipation for a while yet?”

  My eyes drop to the beautiful curve of his mouth. This is it. There's no turning back now. I'm completely and effectively at his mercy.

  “Fuck it,” he growls, tangling his fingers in my hair. “I'm hungry now.”

  A moan breaks loose from somewhere deep in my throat as he crushes his mouth against mine, parting my lips roughly with his tongue. He's kissing me so deeply it feels as if his intention is to swallow me whole. Oh God, the taste of him, it's flooding my senses...I can't breathe, can't think, can't resist...not that I would want to because this is what I want. What I've always wanted. I've been kissed before, but never like this. Never with such passion, such promise, such wild abandon. No caution. No constraint. Just a raw, feral need that transfers from him to me and threatens to set us both on fire.

  “Come here,” he commands in a husky voice, lifting me onto his lap. His impatient hands push the sweater dress up to my thighs, skimming across them to the curve of my backside. Straddling him the way I am, I can feel the hard ridge of his erection pressing against my cotton panties. Tingles of excitement radiate through me, and I squirm against him, aching for more.

  My hair tumbles forward as I lean into him, providing a soft curtain as I trail kisses down his neck, licking and nipping at his shoulder. My fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt. I want more of him. I want to know what every inch of him looks like, feels like, tastes like. I want him inside me. I want him all over me. I want...

  I want.

  I've never wanted like this in my life.

  His hands slip beneath the thin barrier of my panties, gripping my ass as he grinds against me. Under the unassuming gray slacks he's wearing, his cock feels enormous, and for a brief moment the worry crosses my mind that he is going to tear me apart. Jesus, the thing feels like solid rock. What if it isn't a normal size? How is something that big supposed to fit in there?

  But the thought is a fleeting one, and it's gone before it really has a chance to take root.

  After all, those have been fitting in there since the beginning of time.

  He moves one of his hands down, allowing it to roam freely, gliding his fingers across the smooth, slick wetness he finds there. Against my ear, Loc groans his approval as he tugs on the delicate lobe with his teeth. He works two fingers inside me, and I close my eyes in rapture, matching the rhythm of his strokes. This, coupled with his steely erection rubbing against me, makes me feel as if I'm about to shatter into pieces and go flying off in all directions.

  “Oh-h,” I breathe, my thighs quivering as he picks up the pace.

  “You like that?” His voice is a breath, a whisper, soft and intimate.

  “Mmm...yes, very much...”

  “So fucking wet. So tight. So worth waiting for,” he drawls, his fingers sliding in and out of me as I rock against him. “My pure, chaste little virgin. Every inch of you belongs to me. Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you, darling?”

  “N-no-o...”

  “Anything. I. Want. And you're going to let me, aren't you? Because you want me as much as I want you. Isn't that right, cherry pie?”

  My body tenses, my nails digging into his shoulders as release beckons. How anything can feel this intense without proving fatal is beyond me. If sex itself is anywhere near this good, I'm not sure I'll be able to take it.

  “I think you want my cock, don't you?” He laughs softly. “Yes, you want it. Tell me you want it.”

  “I...want it,” I gasp. I'm hovering on the brink here, and it's maddening. “I want you. Please, Loc...”

  “Come for me, love.” His fingers curve, thrusting deeper, faster. “I know you're close. So close, already. Let me feel it. Let me feel it, sweetheart...there's a good girl...” He seals his mouth against mine just as I cry out, the sound muffled against his lips, and I wrap my arms around his neck and lose myself in his kiss as wave after wave of ecstasy pulse through me
.

  And as I drift slowly back down to earth...

  I'm not sure what I'm supposed to feel. Shame, maybe. For giving in so easily. For enjoying what never should have been.

  But all I really want is more, more of this heavenly bliss, and I don't care. I don't care if that makes me a terrible person, I don't care that the circumstances are appalling, I don't care that he is the spawn of something evil. That he may very well be evil himself. He's dragging me down into someplace dark and dreamy and dangerous, and I'll go willingly because I don't have the strength to resist.

  I never did. Not from the moment I first laid eyes on him.

  He slips his fingers free, then brings a hand around to undo his pants. His massive erection springs free, bobbing, and I suck in my bottom lip as I stare at it in fascination.

  It's beautiful. Who knew a penis could be beautiful?

  “Is this what you wanted, pussycat? For me to fuck you with this?” One corner of his mouth twists up in a smirk. “Yes, of course you do. And believe me, I will. But...no, not yet. I don't think so. Not. Just. Yet.”

  I raise my eyes to meet his, gauging his expression with uncertainty. Trying to unravel what he's thinking. What his intentions are. I thought this was what he wanted?

  “No...” he repeats, a bit more softly this time. “Not yet, love. I think we'll save that for later.”

  So he's opted for the whole savor-the-anticipation thing, has he? I purse my lips, frowning. Somehow it irks me that he's showing far more restraint than I seem to be.

  Without breaking eye contact, he takes one of my hands in his, guiding it to his cock, folding my fingers around it. His hand still covering mine, he moves it slowly up and down. I am entranced. He feels amazing. Like solid stone wrapped in the finest cashmere. I never expected something so hard to be so velvety soft.

  “I am going to need you to take care of this for me, though.” Relinquishing control to me, he relaxes against the leather seat with a languid smile. “Think you can handle that?”

  “I can handle that.” At least, I'm pretty sure I can. My curious fingers wander, exploring uncharted territory. I'm intrigued by the fact that he's completely hairless down there. Even his balls are perfectly smooth. Does he shave, or is this some kind of cambion anomaly? I can't detect any trace of stubble, so my guess is the latter.

  Interesting.

  “Feel free to use your imagination.” He arches a brow playfully before tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

  Not a problem. I've always had a vivid imagination.

  Slipping to the carpeted floorboard, I lean in to give the head a quick lick before tracing little circles around it with my tongue. Almost immediately I am rewarded with the sound of his sharp breath, and I have to smile. Oh, yeah...he didn't expect this. Not from the uptight, inexperienced little virgin.

  I didn't expect it either, but I very much want to give it a try.

  “Mm...you are a naughty little devil, aren't you?” he murmurs, cradling the back of my head.

  Picking up his cue, I take him into my mouth and slide down the length as far as I can go. I can feel his stiffness pulsing against my lips. Ah yes, that's the ticket. Clearly this is something he likes.

  He's not the only one. I'm finding it incredibly erotic myself.

  Gripping the base firmly, I work my mouth slowly up and down, sampling him with my tongue, savoring the taste of him. Something about the intimacy of the act, the way he's guiding me by pushing down on my head, lifting his hips to match my rhythm...it's all so illicit, so wrong, and yet so deliciously right. My own body is responding in kind. I'm throbbing between my thighs, aching to know what it will feel like to have him buried inside me.

  Sex.

  I've thought about it, wanted it, even considered following through on occasion, but this is the first time I've ever been so desperate for it I'm willing to do just about anything.

  Where is this coming from? This sudden depravity. I've never been so turned on, never been so eager to fling my inhibitions to the wind. I feel like I've been taken over by someone else, someone wild and free and primitive.

  “That's it...ahh...yes, that's it...that's my girl...”

  I cup his balls with my free hand and massage them while continuing to go down on him. I've never done this before, and yet it seems like the most natural thing in the world.

  “Mmm...ah, yeah...” He's holding my head between both hands now, pushing deeper, grazing the back of my throat. I close my eyes and try to concentrate on not choking. “Umm...ohh...”

  His groans are so damn sexy.

  “Ahh...ahh, fuck...that's it, love...just like that...”

  He's close. He must be. I can feel his body tensing, almost shaking, and we both pick up a more frantic pace.

  “Oh fuck...Christ, yes...fuck me running, yesss...”

  I can't pull away. His hands won't let go; they're pushing my head down as he spasms, filling my mouth with stream after stream of warm ejaculate. Unsure of what to do, I simply gulp it down without thinking. It has a strange creamy texture, but doesn't taste bad. Sort of earthy and salty, almost like breathing in seawater.

  He exhales slowly, a deep, contented sigh, and mentally I allow myself a congratulatory pat on the back.

  Well done, cherry pie.

  I climb back onto the seat, giving him an innocent look as he stuffs his fire hose back into his pants. Coyly, I ask, “That work for you, hotshot?”

  Eyeing me sidelong, he presses his lips together in an arrogant, albeit pleased, smirk. “I suppose it's a start.”

  “Liar,” I whisper.

  He pulls me into his arms, laughing, and I rest my cheek against his chest. Through the crimson silk, I can feel the beating of his heart. Well, at least that proves he has one.

  “I may have underestimated you,” he admits with amusement. “I knew you were harboring a lot of repressed sexual energy under that prudish exterior, but I never expected to unleash a hellcat. If this is any indication of what's to come, I believe I got the better end of our bargain.”

  I look up at him, bristling. “I'm not a prude.”

  “You're almost twenty-one years old and still a virgin. If that doesn't classify you as a prude, darling, I don't know what does.”

  “It's called being selective,” I point out defensively. “Just because I don't drop my drawers for any guy with a stiffy, that doesn't mean I'm a prude. It just means I have high standards.” The minute I say the words, I wish I could retract them. High standards – who am I kidding? I literally just gave head to a demon. Does it get any lower than that?

  And yet, God help me, I'm perfectly content to be here. Downright delirious, in fact. This is the most exciting thing that ever happened to a sheltered, corn-fed babe in the woods from Kansas.

  “If you say so,” he murmurs, stroking my hair gently. His voice is so melodic, so soothing. Every word sounds like a lullaby. “Doesn't matter. It's all semantics. You say to-mae-to, I say to-mah-to. At the end of the day, we're still on the same page, you and I. The same page, following a script that's already been written. All it takes is a nudge in the right direction, and off you go. Chasing fireflies in the dark. Following your destiny wherever it leads. So easy, isn't it, love? So simple.”

  “I don't...what are you...what...” Entranced, I gaze up at his beautifully chiseled face, even as my eyelids grow inexplicably heavy.

  “Shh...” he croons, tapping my lips. “Time enough for all that. For now, we have a long drive ahead of us and I want you well rested. Tonight I won't be holding back. So sleep, my darling. Sleep.”

  Then he brushes two fingers lightly across my forehead, and the world fades to black.

  ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

  Chapter Eighteen

  At first, I think I'm dreaming.

  I'm in the most delightfully cozy bed, stripped down to my panties and bra underneath a soft down comforter, groggy with the mild sense of disorientation that comes from waking in unfamiliar surroundings.


  Mmm. Smells nice, wherever I am. Woodsy, like fresh cut timber. Am I in a forest? No, wait. That can't be right. What would a bed be doing outdoors? Even in the dream world, that doesn't make a lot of sense.

  Scaling into consciousness, it slowly dawns on me that the scent is familiar. Cedar, I decide. That's what it is – it's cedar. I breathe in and sigh, allowing myself a moment of sweet oblivion before opening my eyes to whatever reality awaits me.

  I poke my head from beneath the snug refuge of the comforter and warily take in my surroundings.

  Oh.

  Oh, wow.

  My eyes widen just a fraction.

  This is definitely no forest. It's no Motel Six, either. Far from it. I'm in the bedroom of a private home, by the looks of things, and a very opulent one at that. The walls are paneled in golden cedar, as is the sloped ceiling, which explains the fragrant timber smell.

  As a matter of fact, the more I look around, the more I discern that wood seems to be a prominent theme here. The bed frame itself is constructed of stripped logs and gracefully curving branches. The craftsmanship is nothing short of a work of art. Something this unique has to be handmade, and probably cost a small fortune.

  Blinking, I scope out my new environment in amazement. Is this where Price lives? Doesn't seem the most conventional sort of demon dwelling. Not that I would know what is, but I sure wouldn't have expected this. Everything here is so charming and homey, like a picture taken from one of those interior decorating websites for mountain retreats. Spacious while still retaining a sense of coziness, and stylishly furnished with a distinctly masculine taste in mind. Mostly shades of rich, earthy browns, including the sheets and bedding that are currently tangled around me.

  My eyes wander to the plaid-curtained window, and I note with surprise that it's dark outside. Holy cow, how long have I been asleep? Where am I? We could be hundreds of miles away by now! Trying to suppress my rising panic, I suddenly realize that for all I know we could be in an antechamber of Hell, and this room might be nothing more than a cruel illusion.