Page 23 of Demon Food

“I would love to see more of you pierced.” He grazed his fingers down my chin and neck, all the way to my chest, where he gently pinched one of my nipples. “Here, maybe.”

My nails dug into his thighs.

He trailed his fingers all the way down my torso until they found my navel, where he rubbed a small circle. “Definitely here. How do you do with pain, young human? You tolerate?”

That was an impossible question. Did I want to experience pain? Not necessarily. Did I sometimes crave it anyway? Crave that intoxicating combination of pain and pleasure? Well, I was only human.

“Respectfully, Your Grace, I could handle that pain and much more.”

He swiped his tongue over his teeth. Close up, it was even more apparent how well he fed with his skin so dewy and supple, and without a single blemish on it. He had to feed several times a day to look like that.

While we starved.

“Are you always so outspoken, human?”

The word outspoken wasn’t typically a desirable trait, especially for a human, but of course, the answer was yes. Especially now. Especially today, when I was struggling to keep my head from spinning off with possibilities of where my brother might be. It was a horrible moment to try to force submission into my bones—something I struggled with anyway.

Which was probably why I said, before I could reconsider, “What is called outspoken for a human is likely just called honesty for a vultus. Even if they are the same words.”

He smirked, but I could almost swear, something fiery flashed in his gaze at the same time his temperature spiked a degree or two hotter, and at that moment, I couldn’t be entirely sure I knew what the hell I was doing.

What the hell was I doing?

“Open your mouth, my pet,” he said.

I swallowed. Then I parted my lips once more.

“Much, much wider.”

I did as I was told. He gripped my jaw with one hand and inched closer.

Maybe, this was exactly what I needed. I needed him to taste me so that he’d determine he wanted me, and then he’d take me upstairs where I’d get to pour every ounce of my frustrations into concussing him against a headboard.

Fucking a sex demon was one of the few ways to escape the hell they created.

But he didn’t kiss me as expected. He sucked in a long mouthful of the wine, then he leaned over, squeezing my jaw to pry my mouth open wide.

He parted his lips, and in poured the wine.

I squirmed when the sharp sting of alcohol slid over my tongue. It was so much and all at once, and I hadn’t been expecting it, so I struggled to swallow it all.

He chuckled, raspy and sexy, when it spilled from the corners of my mouth, trickling down my chin and neck, soaking my chest in streaks of ruby red.

“What a unique thing you are.” He gripped my hair and licked spilled wine from my chin. “Let’s see if you taste as good as you say you do.”

That was when his tongue snaked from his mouth.

And by snaked, I meant snaked.

Their tongues were so fucking long that it was like they never ended. As if by magic, they stayed coiled until needed, only to rise up from the depths of their throats, just on and on. They could choke you with it if they wanted and did.

Us whores called it getting deep tongued. I’d had many a fun night with it.

He began with my neck, lashing the streaks of wine with his tongue as if punishing them.

I whimpered as he lapped up every drop that’d been spilled, licking and sucking, his body jolting in twitches as he made his way to my mouth.

My breath quickened as he tightened his grip on my hair, tilting my head back to expose my mouth to his, brushing his lips over mine. Then the king of Novithia kissed me.