Page 49

Goddammit.

What the fuck was that for?

Even though I don’t voice the question aloud, Daemon answers me. Mocks me. “Use your words, sweetheart. I’ll have to keep pinching if you don’t.”

Wetness rolls down my cheeks, blurring my vision. I glare at the demon in front of me because I can’t glare at him. “Please, Sir, don’t do it again.”

I hate that I’m begging him.

I hate that my body likes it when I beg him.

Moisture drips down my thighs. I’m so fucking wet—wetter than I’ve ever been in my entire life. For Daemon. For this crowd full of demons who are looking at me like they want to switch places with him.

“I think you like it too much for me to stop,” Daemon says. I hear him snap his fingers. A moment later, something clamps around my clit—not his hand but something hard and unyielding. It squeezes me tighter and tighter until I scream from it. And then it buzzes.

If I weren’t being held in place, I’d collapse at the sensation. Fuck. I try to squirm away from it—can’t. I try to block it out of my mind—can’t. The toy vibrates so hard my hips jerk, humping the air in an effort to dislodge it. Some inhuman sound rips from my throat, every nerve ending in my body tightening until I can’t take it anymore.

I come for him, unraveling in front of everyone, screaming—no, begging—for him to shut it off. He doesn’t. Another orgasm crests, and I lose myself to it, sobbing by the time Daemon clicks the toy to a lower setting. By now, I realize he isn’t going to remove it, and I either have to accept that or use my safe gestures.

I’m so oversensitive it hurts. Sweat plasters the hair to my face, my back, my breasts. All the while that buzzing never stops, and I must be a psychopath because I don’t stop him.

Daemon spins the cart around, my vision woozy as he positions me in front of him. And I know Mr. Spike-Face is getting a perfect view of that little toy. I strain to close my legs, but then Daemon steps closer, his crotch in perfect line with my face. His belt jingles and clicks as he unthreads it, then works the buttons on his dress pants loose. His cocks spring free and I shake my head.

Nuh-uh.

That’s not going to work for me.

As expected, they’re huge and red. What I didn’t expect was how huge—or how grooved and bumpy—they’d be. My jaw already aches at the idea of accommodating one, and two is off the table. It’s physiologically impossible. I open my mouth to say as much—and then remember I can’t argue with him in public. It doesn’t matter anyway because he seizes the opportunity to shove one in.

Not two.

Thank God for that.

Or maybe thanking God is a bit heretical.

I don’t have time to ponder the morality of it because Daemon is stretching my lips as far as they’ll go, sinking himself inside me until my cheeks are so full I probably resemble a chipmunk. I breathe in through my nose, unable to do much else. A proper blowjob from this position would be unlikely even for a normal man. The way my bindings work, I don’t have the head control for it. Daemon must realize that too because he grabs two fistfuls of my hair and thrusts into me instead, face-fucking me like I’m his sex doll. Because here, that’s exactly what I am.

I sputter and cough, struggling to breathe the deeper he thrusts. The cart jerks back and forth. Saliva seeps down my cherry-red lips. He doesn’t go fast—not at first—and he doesn’t try to bottom out inside me either, which would certainly be another anatomical impossibility. Instead, he gives me time to adjust, the head of his second cock rubbing against my throat with each thrust he takes.

I moan as the buzzer between my thighs kicks up a notch, and then Daemon stops being gentle. The slurping sounds that come out of me are obscene as he sets a punishing pace. Again, I pull on my restraints and go nowhere.

“Fuck, you take me so good,” he says. “I can’t wait to come in your pretty mouth.”

Wait.

He’s not really going to do that, is he?

I’m not a swallower, but a moment later I feel him pulse inside me, his movements getting choppier. I start to protest; it comes out a garbled mess. And then he sinks into the back of my throat, coming inside me with an animalistic roar. As his warm release fills me, I nearly choke on it, straining to get free. But there’s nowhere for me to go. No way to turn my head.

The buzzer kicks higher and I orgasm again, squealing and spasming as I swallow him down. There’s so much cum. I’m half-convinced I’m going to drown in it. Then, finally, he pulls out of me.

Head lolling, I nearly collapse onto the table as I gasp for air, the taste of salt on my tongue, the feel of it heavy in my stomach. My whole body trembles with exhaustion as Daemon wipes my mouth with his fingers, collecting whatever I didn’t swallow.

“Open your mouth. Don’t waste it.”

For a moment, all I can do is stare at him. Then at the spectators. He can’t be serious, right?

But he looks serious. Those scary, bright red eyes glare at me, daring me to either challenge him or use my safe gestures and send us both home.