“What? Lava? You’re not really –” She found her mouth taken by his in a possessive, silencing kiss.
Fuck. What this demon could do with his tail. As the rhythm of sex took them both, his tail surged back and forth, fucking her in spirals, in tandem with his enormous hot cock, even in corkscrew, as if she was a tight bottle needing to be plugged. Her moisture dripped out when his tail withdrew, along with whatever demon juice he’d taken her ass with. The rear and inner thighs of her tights dampened as the wetness dribbled down her. Her mouth was open but she’d forgotten how to kiss him despite him fucking her there too with his long tongue.
She was drowning in sex. The sounds of him slapping into her. The wet noises. The pain of his bites and hair pulling. The sting when his tail or cock was too rough. The primitive smell of mating. Her mind shut down. Fucking didn’t need it.
Pleasure rose, humming through her from where he shoved himself into her, widening her, making her body into his sex toy. She panted, moaned, and even squeaked her way to the edge of a climax. Her body ached for that last, exquisite surge. That push. The need was there, pulsing, filling her.
“Come for me,” he told her at precisely the right moment.
Wasn’t any stopping it. With her lips parted and her eyes sightless, she came, arching, crying out his name. The orgasm blasted away all coherent thought.
Zagan kept thrusting into her, a relentless machine ridden by the directives of sex. Tail and cock, in and out, fucking her, until he too cried out his release. His cum pumped inside her, hotter than hell, triggering another wave of pleasure.
She was his, totally and thoroughly fucked.
He hugged her to him as they panted their way back to reality.
“Let me go.” She licked drool from her lips.
“Why? Your legs are shaking. You’ll slide down the wall.”
“Maybe I wanna clean it.”
But he released her and she turned around. Wow. Zagan looked even sexier with his pants down around his ankles and his cock glistening with her moisture and his cum. But one other thing drew her gaze – a set of black, glossy horns curled from his head.
“You’ve got something new on your head.”
“These?” He reached up and ran his hand along one horn. “It’s because of you. With all this power, I can’t hide my true self anymore.”
“I love them.” She looked him up and down again. Why was this so attractive? “I’m such a dirty girl.”
“Oh, you are. You are.” He grinned back at her and hauled up his pants, zipped up.
“How can I walk around here now? I’ve got holes in my tights and cum on me.”
These small things never did bother the average romance character. Why her?
“I can fix that.” He bent and stripped off her tights and panties then wiped between her legs while kissing her like he wanted to remember her taste until the end of time.
When he was done, she was sure her eyes were glazed and she’d lost a few brain cells.
Dayum. “Stop cheating. Kissing me isn’t a substitute for explaining why I won’t dribble cum as I walk.”
He shook his finger at her. “Naughty. Dirty mouth. You won’t because I say you won’t. I’m a sex demon and such knowledge comes with the title. But you will have to keep your T-shirt down if you don’t want to show off your hot little sex-reddened pussy.”
Gah. She yanked down the edges. “Give me my tights. It’s better than this.”
“Can’t.”
“Why?”
“I ate them.”
Her mouth fell open but no words would come.
Was he telling the truth? Was it possible? He was a demon. They weren’t on the floor. He’d eaten them? Really?
“You didn’t?”
“They tasted good too.” He winked and slowly checked her out, especially where her T-shirt ended. “Besides, I wanted you like this, without panties.”
Glaring at him seemed the best thing option.
Important: remember to never ask him to do the laundry. Or look after her cat.
Chapter 10
Zagan beckoned to the three of them. The ebook section door ahead was blasted off its hinges and smoking.
“We have to be on the alert from now on! My power tells me the Necrosexi-texmexicon is definitely down there! But I still can’t get hold of Lars, Skoll, or Mr. T. Something has gone wrong,” he yelled, very loudly, signaling the next plot development in as obvious a way as possible.
Virginia took her hands off her ears and frowned. “We still have no weapons.”
He rapped the gold guitar hanging at his back. “I have this.”
“Does it shoot bullets or ninja stars or explode?”
“It squashes things when I hit them with it.”
“Uh-huh.”
Dangerous Bob gave it the once over then materialized a piece of four by two from somewhere unknown.
Shit. Virginia blinked. So that’s where it came from.
The last of their squad, Crush, just patted his groin and chuckled.
The man was so up himself, if tortured. What could he do with that?
“Good.” Zagan nodded. “We’re all armed then, except Virginia, and she doesn’t count because she’s a girl.”
Ohmigod. She was going to have to do a lot of ignoring today, or she was going to kill somebody whose name started with Z. “The demon loses ten points on the marriageable scale. I have my razor sharp wit.”
Zagan smiled. “I know you do. I’m counting on it.”
“And gains fifteen on the rebound.”
Crush chuckled while also managing to leer at her almost exposed bottom.
For the fiftieth time she tugged the shirt down. If they had to crawl through any ceiling ducts on this book finding expedition, she was going last.
“Remember, eyes peeled for abnormalities that might mean the book’s been here. When we catch it, we have to make it open a portal so Karl and the Sea Wolves can return here, then send it through, back to wherever it came from.”
They sneaked through the door and continued on past many askew doors. There’d been bad things happening. Debris and actual paper pages littered the floor. People ran past them toward the exit, screaming, with panic written on their faces...in big letters.
“Why the paper, Zagan?” She stopped at his shoulder and peered through the nearest genre door – Erotic Literature.
“I think the Necrosexi-texmexicon is making the electronic contents of the stories become real. This is where the worst of it seems to be, and I can sense the book too.” He checked his guitar, like a ninja checking his sword, putting his hand to the neck where it jutted above his shoulder.
They filed through the beaten-up door and were faced with another long corridor, immensely long, that disappeared into a haze in the distance. It was deserted and there were thousands more doors to either side.
“Be very careful,” he added. “Stick close to me.”
Good advice but where would a story be if no one did anything stupid?
“Sure.” She couldn’t get over seeing those horns sticking out of his head.
What would it be like to hold them while he made love to her? Preoccupied, she wandered over to a door labelled Disasters in Book Covers and wrenched it open, found yet another corridor of doors, each one covered with a different book cover. The place was a maze of doors. She figured these would be the stories you could buy. She checked the nearest, then screamed.
Dangerous Bob sprinted over, swearing a dirty streak. *What?*
“It has been here. Something awful has happened. Look.” She had one hand plastered over her eyes but she peeked through her fingers.
Screechy horror violin-type music assaulted their ears for a few tense seconds.
Before them loomed a cover with a man’s bare chest above a landscape of three upright dildos, a dinosaur, and an elegant woman with bright red lipstick. Dongzilla in Mantitty City by Wetly Comeson was proclaimed in searing white letters.
/> “God. It’s horrible,” she managed to croak out.
Bob was struck dumb. When Crush walked up and looked, all he did was squeak.
“What...has happened here?” Staggering a little, she wandered further along, and found a book cover door with a woman dressed as a short-skirted schoolgirl under the title, fuck being subtle by Spanky Schoolgirl. Then there was Private Trumpet by Racy McDacy with a woman being sexually molested by a trumpet.
“Oh my god,” she whispered. “I need therapy.”
Before she could go further along, Zagan called them back.
“Out! There’s nothing we can do. Some things are beyond even my powers. Our Necrosexi-texmexicon book hasn’t been here. These are just victims of an author with a poor taste and the ability to ass-fuck a book design program.”
She was the last out and she leaned back against the Disasters in Book Covers door, breathing deeply, regaining her sanity. Close call.
From the way Crush was still quivering he was just as badly affected. Poor Bob, his eyes were wide and his eyebrows seemed permanently glued in the upright and startled position.
Focus. “If we’d opened one, what’s behind the door?”
Her demon mused a second. “Just the story, I think. Though with reality being distorted, it might be dangerous to go too far in. You could be trapped in there. But come with me, all of you. There’s something I need to show you.”
When they returned to the main corridor he led them down to another door. The worried expression Zagan wore made her wonder what was wrong.
“I’ve found Skoll and Lars. It’s not pretty. But this is what you have to be wary of. We must never let our attention wander.”
At a door called Hearts at War, bearing a cover with a passionate couple kissing in a jungle, he inhaled then pulled it open. “Let’s see if we can rescue them.”
Whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t this. A whole different world was before her. Miles and miles of land. Below was jungle and beyond that seemed to be crops or fields. They descended a narrow grassy path to the jungle. Grass rustled and something calf-high waddled from the bushes.
“Books!” She gasped, pointing vigorously. “Walking books!” She bent at the knees to see under them. Little legs? How cute. When had this turned into a fairy tale?
Though Crush tried to pick one up, the little books scampered away and ended up in a small herd of five or six around Virginia’s ankles, bumping into her, rattling their pages, and whispering.
“They like you.” Zagan grinned. “Another example of the world going weird. The Book must be close. Let’s go.”
The path wove between huge rainforest trees that stretched their branches overhead. The light dimmed. Sounds of squeaking apes came from the left, somewhere off the path. Virginia ducked under vines to follow Zagan. The screeching ape noises grew louder. In the gloom, figures scampered and leaped. Her heart knocked at her chest, in a distinct effort to vacate the premises.
What was going on here?
When he halted, they stopped behind him then spread out. She stood to his left.
“Damn.” Zagan swore quietly. “Too late. It’s Skoll. Best if you don’t look. Let’s go.”
But even though he tried to block her view as he turned, she could see past him. A whole herd of some sort of ape was cavorting, and...having sex? Lars was in there? Somewhere? It was a boiling cauldron of apes on crack.
“Don’t look.” Zagan shepherded her backward.
“Why? What’s he doing?”
“The Book must have got to him. Skoll always did like anal and well, now he’s got it in abundance. Only I’m not sure who is doing what to who. It’s a maelstrom of gangbang monkey sex.”
Gulp. Saying that in one sentence had to be some sort of record.
But as she turned to leave, a thought struck. “Wait. Are those...let me guess, orangutans?”
“You know your apes. What does it matter?”
Crap. “Never mind.”
An orangutan gang-bang. She’d been right not to piss off the author. Poor, poor man, What had Skoll ever done except be a filthy-minded rock musician with a liking for fucking ass?
Bitch author. Oops. Think pretty thoughts, think pretty, non-incriminating thoughts.
In a gentle and perhaps kindly reassurance, Crush squeezed Zagan’s shoulder. “He’s in his happy place.”
If that was happy, she’d take a prison sentence with a bunch of drop-the-soap-in-the-shower sex mad crims.
Zagan trudged on. “We go through the jungle, out the other side. I know Lars is here. I can feel him. And look. That’s his.”
A white extension cord lay on the ground and went on as far as she could see, one cord after another, each plugged into the next.
“Why? Where’d that come from?”
“Lars always likes to stock up on those. Half the hotels we stay at, he’s got to fling the TV out the window with it still on. It’s a dare. An accomplishment. Especially if the TV is still on when it hits the water.”
“So this is the rock musician’s version of a paper trail?”
“Yes.”
Once they emerged from the jungle, they found a field of red flowers that stretched from side to side and off toward the horizon. The air was hot, sticky, and stifling. The sun scorched the sky a pale blue and the path they now walked upon was gravel. Since Virginia had thrown away her stilettos long ago, she had to do a hop, skip, and fucking ouch dance, every now and then. Overhead, a squadron of buzzing, small planes wove in and out of each other’s flight paths, attempting to shoot each other from the sky. Machine guns rattled. Bullets were no doubt perforating things. It was a war, all right, though with no romantic kissing in sight.
“Where’s Lars?” All she could see was the endless sea of flowers. Then a scream of glee erupted and a patch of flowers swayed as if something was brushing them.
Dangerous Bob pointed at the moving flowers. “Fuckin’ fucker.”
“Yup.” He was right. Lars rolled into view, squashing the edge of the flower field. On his face was ecstasy. His tongue lolled and he called out nonsense words.
“Poppies. It’s a poppy field.” Zagan swore along with Bob. “Let’s drag him out of there, but he’ll be useless for hours. The man looks like he’s been chewing on the poppies.”
“Gagagaga!” Lars waved and slumped again. He grabbed a bunch of flowers and stems and stuffed them in his mouth.
Two of the team out of action already. Mr. T. was still missing.
“Ow!” The little books had followed them through the jungle and one of them had nipped her ankle. She frowned, backing away but finding they wanted to huddle near her again. Had they gone feral?
When she stopped retreating, they swarmed closer to her legs, and they seemed to be shivering.
She looked up at the jungle. Something was coming from there, something that scared them.
There was a noise. Rustling. Thumping. The bushes swayed. A tree toppled with a crunch then a thud as it hit the ground.
Mr. T. burst out, yelling, and waving his short arms.
Tearing out after him came a green and obviously magical book about six feet high. Trees and grass around it burst into rainbow flame. Pages of books were spat out, spinning, by the Necrosexi-texmexicon, like razor sharp Frisbees.
She felt herself pale and her fingers grow cold.
Paper cuts were the worst.
Little booklings ran past it squeaking, most of them homing in on her. Did they think she was their momma or something?
Dangerous Bob materialized his four by two.
Zagan unslung his guitar.
Guitar music twanged through the air as if announcing to the audience that a Mexican desperado had been flushed into the open, his guns firing, his mustache twirling.
Crush...she wasn’t sure what he was doing but it looked rude.
The world exploded, metaphorically speaking.
Virginia stood there quaking as everyone ran at everyone else, shouting, s
winging their weapons or their cocks. Or in Mr. T’s case, transforming before her very wide eyes, into a Tyrannosaurus rex with big teeth and stompy feet. She scurried backward, herding the panicking booklings.
“Stay there,” yelled Zagan as he stormed past. “You can’t do anything.”
Good to know, considering she was so scared her knees were knocking. So she sat down in the poppy field beside Lars and took up weaving.
The bangs, roars, and whistles, the planes zooming past at breakneck speed, ten feet above ground level, the crunches of bones and splatter of blood, it all said War, with a big W.
Knit one. Pearl One. Knitters said that didn’t they? It was like a calming mantra.
Besides, shielding the booklings and Lars seemed the best she could do.
A hundred yards to the left, she was aware of the battle slowly rolling past. There were more screams. She peeked. Zagan was alive. The blood and other icky things flying about made her go back to weaving, after she’d soothed and patted a small, shaking book. By the time the noise abated, she’d woven a poppy stem skirt.
She rose, dragged on the somewhat holey and crooked skirt then took a breath. She looked past the smoking wreckage of a plane, past a few slumped bodies, and beyond a burnt-out tank with several steel pages jutting from its turret.
Far in the distance, Mr. T., in his gigantic T. rex form, was chewing on the Necrosexi-texmexicon. Sparks sprayed from his mouth. The book wriggled loose from his jaws and shot away. It bashed a hole in a wall that hadn’t been there before, but was apparently the boundary of this story’s setting, and vanished. Mr. T. lumbered after it, smashing an even bigger tear in the wall as he exited.
“Well. This is interesting. And can’t be real.” She rubbed her eyes.
But Zagan was nearby and had been watching the distant battle. Alongside him stood Crush and Bob. He pointed to the other side of the field, a mile or more away, where there was a purple flickering dome of electricity. From the purple dome walked forth a man. She knew him in an instant. Karl.
Karl Thulhu.
And she remembered everything. He was a possessive man cross tentacle monster. She distinctly recalled a long, detailed statement that ended with him saying mine, over and over, even if he hadn’t wanted her china animal collection.
Strum: virgin captive of the billionaire demon rock star monster (The Squirm Files) Page 6
