“Because my touch is the touch of the Devil,” I warned her. “And when the demon in me demands a feed, I end up powerless to stop it. I want you, mi sol. I want to own and devour every last piece of you. I want to feel how tight and wet your pussy is when I fuck you so hard you can’t breathe right. I want to wrap my hands around your throat and take control of your breaths while I make you come for me in more ways than you can imagine. I want to do so many, many things to you, but I want to keep you too.”
“You think you would hurt me?” she asked, her eyes sparking like the idea of that wasn’t such a bad thing and I growled.
“The demon inside me wants nothing but pain and misery. There is no exorcising it. There is no burning it out. I have been to the gates of hell and back at the hands of God, and the women sent to do His work in the mission to rid myself of it, but it won’t ever leave me.”
“Good,” Brooklyn said, leaning in so close that her lips brushed against mine and I paused there, finding myself wanting something which I couldn’t remember ever wanting as I inhaled her breath and she inhaled mine in return. “Because I like your demon, Dead Man. And I think he just wants to come out and play a little more often. If you let him, I bet he wouldn’t be so bad.”
I stilled at that, wondering if she had any idea of what she was suggesting or why I fought so hard to stifle that piece of me.
“That demon brings only bad,” I warned her, my lips brushing hers in the mockery of a touch as I spoke and she leaned in more, making sure I felt the words she whispered against my mouth in reply.
“I like the bad.”
My heart leapt at that admission, my eyes on hers and the truth there before me clear as day while her fingers continued to trace the burn on my chest in the tight space between our bodies.
I pressed forward without thought, taking something from her which I had never taken from anyone, had never wanted from anyone or needed in any way.
I kissed her.
Brooklyn sucked in a sharp breath as my mouth moved against hers, parting her lips in surprise and giving access for my tongue to press between them, my heart hammering as she moaned softly, the rolling pin clattering to the floor as she dropped it and her eyes fell closed.
I closed mine too, giving myself over to the sweetness of her lips against mine, the energy which burned between us as our mouths met in this most simple of acts and yet nothing about it was simple at all.
My lips began to move against hers, teasing them, tasting them, her tongue dancing across mine and making my pulse rocket as I gave in to this act which I had never indulged in before.
Kissing her felt important. Real. Like taking a vow to the heavens and all the powers that may be at play within this world and the next before promising to make her mine.
The kiss deepened as I leaned into her, our tongues caressing, soft gasps and moans escaping her and my name spilling from her lips in a plea for so much more.
I twisted my fingers into the sides of her panties and tugged, encouraging her to lift her ass as I lingered in the taste of her mouth and let the demon in me pledge its allegiance to her and her alone.
I still wasn’t sure I trusted it or even myself with her, but as her body pressed to mine and I pushed her down beneath me, laying her out on the table like my own personal feast, I knew that I could give her what she needed.
I dragged her panties over her knees, letting them fall to her ankles where she obediently kicked them off.
I indulged in her kiss a little longer, losing myself in the feeling of her mouth against mine, growling against her lips and devouring her as she met my passion with her own, her thighs widening and hips rolling with need as she writhed beneath me.
I shifted my hand between her thighs, groaning as I found her soaked for me, a whimper of need leaving her as I brushed my fingers against her clit and made her writhe more.
“Please,” she panted against my mouth and the request was so sweet that I almost laughed. Nothing about me was sweet. But I could give her what she ached for all the same.
I tore my mouth away from hers, kissing the corner of it before working down the side of her throat, pinning her to the table beneath me as her spine arched and she ground her body against me.
I took hold of her hands as she scored them down my chest, pressing them more firmly to the scars there and groaning in the back of my throat at the feeling of her touching me so freely.
I was tempted to pull her hands from me, pin them to the table or even tie them in place but for every moment that I gave in to what she wanted and allowed her to touch me, I felt like some of the pain of my past was breaking loose of my flesh, peeling away and being cast aside in favour of this pleasure.
I tugged the strap of her cami aside, freeing her breast and taking her pert nipple between my teeth, tugging hard and making her moan loudly before slapping a hand down over her mouth to quiet the noise.
“Not yet, chica loca,” I warned, looking over my shoulder towards the door, making sure that Niall hadn’t heard her. “He’ll ruin our fun if he hears you too soon.”
She nodded obediently, pushing my hand from her lips and forcing me back so that she could sit up before me.
“Are you good at being quiet, Dead Man?” she asked, reaching out to touch my scar again and causing a shiver to dance across the entirety of my flesh.
“The best,” I promised her and she smiled wickedly.
“Good. Because I wasn’t lying before I hit you with the rolling pin.”
I frowned at her in question but she leaned in and placed another kiss to my lips before I could speak again, stealing my breath with the boldness of her actions and making it more than clear that she knew exactly what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to take it.
She mirrored what I had done to her, shifting her mouth to my jaw and running it down my neck, causing a riot to break out in my chest as she continued to move lower, drawing closer to the burn which marked me out for the hell bound creature I was.
I caught her hair in my fist and made her look up at me, halting her progress as she made it to my clavicle, my chest tightening at the thought of her continuing.
“No one has touched me there without intending to harm me, mi sol,” I warned her, unsure if I was telling her to stop or not.
“Tell me what you did to the women who hurt you, Dead Man,” she whispered. “Tell me all about it while I give you new memories to steal away the bad.”
I frowned at her but as she tugged against my hold on her, I relented, releasing her hair and shifting my hands to her sides instead.
“There were shutters on the windows of the convent where they lived,” I said slowly, remembering the darkness of that night and letting my eyes fall closed as Brooklyn moved her mouth to my neck once more. “They used to close them when I was in there. Hide the light from my eyes and keep me in the dark while they taught me their lessons and worked to force the demon from within me.”
She made a soft sound of sympathy before moving her mouth lower, a kiss landing against the top of the crucifix which was burned into the centre of my chest and I stiffened at the contact, my fingers biting into her sides. The touch of her lips was sinfully soft, a caress against the reddened, damaged skin which I could feel despite the nerve damage in the area, like the ghost of a kiss and yet so much more than that at once.
She paused there for a moment, giving me the chance to stop her, but when I didn’t, she continued, moving her mouth lower and kissing my scar again, a long breath sliding from my lips as she paid it such attention. Her touch was reverent, worshipping, loving, something I had known nothing of throughout my long and torturous life.
I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with such affection, but I found myself aching for it, needing it, a dam inside me which had been filled with so much rage and resentment for her gender for so long cracking along one side and slowly allowing this new feeling in.