Neon Blue by E Frost (best book reader .TXT) 📗

“Witchy-poo, are you done fucking around in there?”

I freeze. Choke on a scream.

The demon strolls through the open door of my office. Relaxed and casual in jeans and a black tee. His mane of red dreadlocks corralled by a leather thong. He’s spinning a small, multi-colored ball idly on the tip of one finger. A demonic Dennis Rodman.

“How, how—” I stutter.

“The baby dragon let me in on her way out. Not that your piece of shit security system could keep me out if I wanted in.” He stops a few feet away, leaning against one of my guest chairs. His head lifts. Nostrils flare. That neon-blue glow fills his eyes. “What’ve you been doing?”

My mind does a guilty canter. Nothing. Wen-Long never called . . . “B-br-brewing,” I stammer.

The demon paces towards me. His burning pupils expand, swallow the world. I retreat behind my desk. “What do you want?”

“A taste.” He sets the ball down on the edge of my desk and follows me. “C’mere.”

Conscious thought shuts down. The screaming begins in the back of my head. Instinctively, I reach for my new kama.

The demon bats it out of my hand. I hear it skitter across my desk, but I can’t look away from those hypnotic, glowing eyes. “Not now,” he admonishes. “We can play rough another time.”

He hooks two fingers over the collar of my work smock and pulls me toward him. He flicks the fingers of his other hand at my desk. Computer, phone, Dictaphone, pens, pencils, stapler, kama, all fly clattering off my desk to zoom in elliptical orbits around my guest chairs.

The demon pushes me down on the cleared desk. I lie there immobile for a second, staring up at him. And then his weight’s coming down on me. His chest crushes my breasts, forces the air out of me in a grunt. He reaches down, hands hot on my thighs through the fabric of my pants. He pushes my legs apart, lifts my knees around his hips. His groin, and the firm bulge there, press hard against my pelvic bone.

“Now gimme that mouth,” he growls. His dreadlocks spill around my face. His nose brushes mine. With the first touch of skin on skin, power rises, burns through me like a fever. I gasp with the strength of the surge.

His mouth presses to mine. Not hurting. Not forceful. Just the warm, wet touch of skin. The heat and weight of his body on mine. And an amazing, rising Nor’easter of energy.

Open your mouth. Lemme taste. A liquid, gliding brush across my lips. His tongue slips inside my mouth to flick over my teeth, touch my tongue. I feel him inhale, his chest pressing harder against mine, and power flows from me to him in a hot rush.

The rush leaves me reeling, light-headed. Sharing power usually makes me feel stronger. But this isn’t a sharing; this is a taking. I lift my hands and push weakly against his shoulders. He shifts, but doesn’t rise off me. One hand slides up to cup my face while he kisses me deeper. The other hand slides under my back, arches me to him while he grinds his pelvis slowly against mine.

I shudder. With fear – Ro told him to drain me and that’s what it feels like he’s doing – but also with a queasy sense of excitement. A hot fluttering in my belly. He can really kiss. And the energy flowing between us is intoxicating, even if it is flowing the wrong way.

The weight on me lessens slightly. A tug between my breasts. Then he’s opening my work smock, and the sweater underneath. Pushing up the cloth. Cool air kisses my skin for a second before his weight descends again. The scorching, silken heat of skin on skin.

You are so tasty, he purrs into my head. He reaches between us and begins unbuttoning my pants. I can’t remember any human so tasty. Let’s skip the part where you tell me all the reasons you can’t and just get down to the fucking, sweet meat.

His thought jolts me, allows me to make a desperate grab for sanity. No.

He pauses, his mouth still welded to mine. Is that a real no, or a ‘fuck me, big boy’ no?His fingertips tickle along my stomach.

It’s a ‘no, you can’t have my soul’ no.

He sighs into my mouth and turns his head to nip along my jaw up to my ear. I can’t help but shiver. I have a thing about ears. He seems to know it, too. He sucks the lobe into his mouth, tugging in a rhythm that echoes the slow grind of his erection against me.

How ‘bout we just fuck? No souls. No damnation. Just grunting and sweating and a whole lot of coming.

It’s tempting. God, it’s tempting. His mouth on my ear is making me crazy and I can’t help but remember the noises from my guest bedroom. It sounded unbelievably good. He is a demon, after all. And it’s been so very long since Saul.

But I don’t trust him. He’s a demon. And sex with demons is a bad idea. No matter what they promise.

No.

He blows a warm, tickling breath into my ear. Follows it with the wet tip of his tongue. I shiver uncontrollably. That a real no?

Yes, it’s a real no.

To my surprise, he nips my earlobe a final time and lifts off me. He holds himself above me, arms braced against the desk, biceps and shoulders bulging. He watches me for a moment, his glowing eyes hooded, and I can’t tell if he’s furious or calculating or merely indifferent.

“Have it your way,” he says.

I sit up slowly and he lets me, pushing off the desk until he’s standing. I tug my shirt back down. “That’s it?” I shouldn’t question my good fortune, but I can’t believe he’s just backed off.

He crosses his arms over his chest. “Yeah, that’s it.” His leer returns. “Until I can convince you otherwise.”

I pull my sweater and smock back around me and