Page 113 of Demon Food

34

FELORÉ

Heat was radiating throughout my body, melting in tides down my chest and torso like drips of hot candle wax. It was an animal inside me. An urgent beast. A lust unlike anything I’d ever felt, such that I couldn’t see past the pink mist flooding my vision. The tangy and intoxicating taste in my mouth.

I was hollow without him. There was an emptiness inside me that only he could fill. He didn’t understand that no one else could fill it, and it had to be filled.

My dark fucking prince. My future king. My Alek.

“Open the door!” My fist stung from where I banged it over and over.

He was there. I knew he was there; so close. I could sense him.

“Alek,” I begged, scratching the door with my nails. “You have to come back. It hurts so bad. I need you.”

Voices, sounds, thoughts other than my own bled throughout the rubble of my mind, their volumes blaring loudly one second, only to quiet to a whisper the next. Something about a soup. You feed mine and I feed yours. I knew what I had to do, but why? I couldn’t remember why.

“Alek,” I said, the word muffled. I was licking the door?

Yes, I was licking the woodgrain of the door, trying to taste him. Trying to taste the perfection of his mouth—the heat and spice and sin.

“Stretch me open,” I whispered. “Break me apart. Consume me.”

My cock sprang forth, painfully hard, overly sensitized when I pushed the flimsy fabric down my legs, wincing as I fisted it in my hand. It throbbed in need of him. Everything inside me needed him.

“You said you’d lick me,” I whispered onto the door, punished by the visual of his burning eyes. “You said you’d lick me, Alek. That you wouldn’t stop licking until I begged. You remember that?”

It was so quiet, but he was there. I was so attuned with his presence that I could feel it. I could smell him. Him. Him. Him.

“I need to be licked,” I whispered, thrusting my hips against the door. “Please don’t leave me alone like this. Please⁠—”

A pop behind me. A glare of light.

I gasped as I spun around to find every candle in the room roaring to life in bright and wild flames.

My chuckle was mad sounding as I let my hooded eyes fill with their glowing beauty, flickering in a hundred different reflections of themselves.

“You’re here,” I whispered, gripping my cock, gazing upon the evidence of his presence.

“I’m here,” came a voice behind the door so blaringly sexy that I moaned into the candlelit darkness.

“I need to come,” I murmured, more primitive grunts than words as I stroked myself, spine arching from the door.

“You perfect fucking human,” he said, his voice rich and deep, and my cock stiffened painfully at the sound. “You have no idea how badly I want to make you come.”

I writhed against the door.

“I’d kill, Feloré. I’d die. You are perfection. Nothing in this kingdom compares to how perfect you taste.”

I slid my eyes to the door. “Then come back and drink me.”

“I cannot.”

“You can, Prince,” I cried, continuing to stroke, but it wasn’t enough. It had to be him. “I need to come.”

“I know you do, baby.”

“Then make me⁠—”