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

my spoon in a circle. I know. It just didn’t occur to me. Do you speak Japanese?

Nihongo hanasemasen.

I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.

The demon chuckles and scrapes green sludge out of the bottom of his cup. That was, ‘I can’t speak Japanese,’ in Japanese.

I throw my spoon at him and the demon roars with laughter.

Whether it’s the real ice cream experience or the Pillar of Fire or killing the smoke demon, Jou’s in an exceptionally good mood as we stroll back down Huntington Avenue. He drapes an arm around my shoulders and shortens his stride so we can walk side-by-side. As we walk, he looks up at the tall buildings of the Back Bay with something like wonder. A nethanc surfing the updrafts off the skyscrapers catches his attention and he points it out to me with a grin. When we reach the Shops at the Pru, he stops to stare at the glass bullet of 111 Huntington Avenue for several minutes.

When he doesn’t seem inclined to move, I shift so I can lean back against him and look up at the skyscraper.

There are tall buildings in Japan.

Weren’t when I was there. He’s silent for a moment, tilting his head to take in the skyscraper from a different angle. There were in New York, but I didn’t get out much.

Why not? I ask before I think it through. The answer’s obvious. He’s been a battery, and batteries do not go sight-seeing.

He rests his chin on top of my head. Exactly.

Hasn’t anyone let you out before?

Not like this. Caught a couple of glimpses out of windows. Seen some more in people’s memories.

I turn so I can look up into his face. The idea of his captivity – at the hands of humans like me – bothers me more and more all the time. I’m sorry, Jou.

S’okay. He smiles lazily, eyes glinting in the sunset. Gimme a kiss.

I glance at the pedestrians flowing around us. No, we’re in public.

Who gives a fuck? You don’t know any of these people.

It doesn’t matter. I know what they’re thinking.

They’re thinking, ‘I wish I could get me some of that.’ ‘Specially if you gimme some tongue.

I shiver, because the part of me that’s not cringing at the idea has gone hot and wanting. Schizophrenic hormones.

C’mon, if you’re shy, step sideways.

What?

Step sideways. Like we did up there. He nods at the Pru.

I don’t know how . . .

Put your arms around my neck. When I do, slowly and suspiciously, he grins, pulls me tight to him and kisses me.

I should pull away, and be annoyed. But that would require thought, and thought’s fleeing fast. It’s lost in the press of his hard chest and the hungry movement of his mouth on mine. Lost in the tingling, exhilarating rush of power that rises between us as soon as skin touches skin. So lost that when he licks at my lips, I open them for him, touch my tongue to his. Barely even murmur in protest when his hand closes on my butt and pulls me so close that I can feel the hard press of his erection through the denim that separates us.

Mmm. Now that ain’t shy.

Thought floods back on a hot rush of embarrassment. I pull back and glance around guiltily.

The street and sidewalk are laced with ribbons of color. The same as up in the Prudential Tower when he confronted the other demons.

How do you do this?

He chuckles and slides one hand up to cup my face. He holds me still for another deep kiss. Told you, just step sideways.

I would try to figure out what he means. But I’m lost again. He’s sucking at my lower lip and power’s flaring between us. His big hands hold me to him, press me tight against his chest, crushing my breasts exactly the way I like. We kiss for long moments, while the power builds and builds until I can feel it spilling off my skin. He lifts me, so I can wrap my legs around his hips. So we can kiss without either of us straining, like we did last night when he was inside me.

His chuckle fills my head like dark water. Sliding through the recesses of my mind. Touching me everywhere. Mmm, sweet meat. Could it be that sex with me ain’t so bad? He rocks his hips, grinding his erection against me. I can feel my own wetness soaking into my jeans. I tighten my legs around his hips.

He pulls his mouth away from mine and looks at me. He’s grinning, but his eyes are dark and serious. Tempting. Very tempting, sweet meat. But I don’t want to do this here.

What?! You started it . . .

He nods. Kisses me again. I know I did. An’ you let me take it further than I thought you would. But now I want to stop.

What? I disentangle myself from him. Step back. Why? What did I do wrong?

He holds his hand out to me. Nothin’.

Then why are you stopping? You’re a lust demon . . .

He lets his hand drop. So that means I’m ready anytime anywhere, right?

You told me you were always ready, I think resentfully. I can’t believe he’s gotten me this hot and then stopped and left me feeling . . . guilty.

That was before last night.

I cross my arms under my breasts, trying to remember what about last night might have caused such a sea change. I don’t understand.

Last night was the first time I got to do it with a human on my terms. How and where and when I wanted.

Shocked, I drop my arms. Move a little closer. It was? The first time, ever?

Yup. Warlocks don’t ask for approval. They just force you to do what they want. You saw it with the dead bitch. You think I wanted to jump you like that? C’mon, sweetness, even I like a little foreplay.

I try to get my head around that. To understand what it must have been like for him, to have the choice always taken away. To be forced – even