Her Soul to Take (Souls Trilogy) Read online

  “Fuck, Leon…” His hand rubbed between my legs, rough and careless. I found myself grinding myself down against him, eager for more stimulation, desperate for the feeling of his fingers over my clit. He pulled his hand away, pressed my face down against the mattress with a hand on the back of my head, and smacked my ass three times in quick succession.

  “Filthy little slut.” He reached between my legs again, ripping my stockings and tugging my panties to the side to plunge two fingers into me. I cried out as he mercilessly pumped his fingers, gripping at the sleek sheets beneath me, the pleasure taking brutal hold.

  “Aw, so wet,” Leon withdrew his fingers, leaving me gasping, and held them up in front of my face. My arousal glistened on his skin, webbing between his fingers as he spread them. He laughed darkly, giving my head a rough shake. “Filthy girl. You love being thrown around, hm? Open your mouth.”

  He pushed his fingers past my lips, the taste of my own arousal making me moan. I sucked on his fingers, my tongue slipping between them and over the tip — he’d mercifully sheathed his claws to finger-fuck me. He smacked my ass again, and I yelped, but went right back to licking up every last drop of myself from him.

  “Such a naughty little thing,” he growled. “Let’s put that mouth of yours to better use, shall we?”

  He manhandled me to the floor, controlling me with a hand on my neck and another on my arm. I struggled against him, just to experience that euphoric feeling of denying something I desperately wanted and knowing it would come anyway.

  I wanted to fight, and get what I wanted anyway.

  He forced me to my knees and unbuckled his belt. The clink of the buckle and the familiar sound of his zipper sliding down had my stomach twisting with need. My mouth was watering. I knew what was coming. I watched eagerly as he pulled out his rigid cock, thickly veined and monstrous, and held it in front of my face.

  “Open.”

  I glared up at him with a defiant smile. “No.”

  His eyes flashed, and he rolled back his shoulders, shaking his head. He tugged me up higher on my knees, leaning down until our faces were inches apart. “Don’t. You. Dare. Say No. To Me. Or I’ll slap that cheeky smile off your face.”

  I grinned wider. “Hurt me, Leon,” I whispered. “Hurt me.”

  The veins in his arms seemed to thicken with the effort of holding back. “Brave girl,” he said softly. “Are you sure about that? You’re asking a demon to hurt you; I’m used to playing with those who can bleed and not die, who can be thrown and not break.”

  “You won’t break me,” I said. “Fucking hurt me, asshole.”

  His palm slapped across my face, heavy and stinging — but perfectly controlled. His strength was tempered. He gave just enough to make it sting, softened the impact with his other hand to prevent my head from whipping to the side. For a moment my mouth hung open in shock, my cheek stinging and my eyes beginning to water. He paused with me, waited with me, and I knew his eyes were on me, gauging my reaction.

  I raised my gaze again, petulant, and spat, “You don’t scare me.”

  “No?” He tugged my hair, and the viciousness of those sharp teeth through the dark mask made goose bumps go up my spine. “You want to be scared, little brat?” Something was changing. His teeth had grown longer. His irises had swollen, leaving only a thin ring of gold. His tongue, when it snaked out to flick teasingly at my face, was black. “I’ll give you something to be scared of.”

  He slapped me again, then again. My head was buzzing with the concoction of dopamine and adrenaline that this stinging pain was pumping through me. His slaps were heavy, leaving biting tingles across my face. I didn’t just enjoy the pain — I reveled in the endurance, in resisting his orders for as long as I could bear it. When I raised my watering eyes up to him again, he truly did look like a monster, something out of my nightmares that had me helpless in his hands.

  “Scared now, girl?”

  Scared — enamored — overwhelmed — needy as hell. This wicked stretch of my imagination that allowed me to exist as both frightened and calm at the same time, this dangerous game, was exactly where I wanted to be.

  I shook my head defiantly, flinching when his fingers stroked over the skin he’d just slapped. “I’m not. I’m not scared of you.”

  “So brave,” he said, and pouted his lip out mockingly. “And so fucking foolish. Pathetic little mortal. Defying a demon feels good, doesn’t it?” He squeezed my cheeks between one hand, and pushed the fingers of his opposite hand to my lips, forcing my jaws open. “Let me see that pretty little mouth. So perfect for my cock.” His fingers pressed against my tongue. I almost gagged, and tears leaked from my eyes with the effort not to. I could feel my pussy dripping, clenching with desire.

  He looked at me like I was nothing more than a toy, but when he lowered his voice and spoke again, there was reverence in his words. “Your mouth is perfect. Your body is perfect. Your mind, that damned curious mind, is perfect.” His hold on me wasn’t gentle, but the kiss he laid on my forehead was. “You’re mine, even if you don’t believe it. And I treasure what’s mine. Now, open your fucking mouth.”

  This time, I obeyed.

  He pressed his cock past my lips. The taste of his flesh on my tongue was intoxicating, and my eyes fluttered shut as he thrust into me. He fucked my mouth mercilessly, punishing me — rewarding me. Only when a gag finally jolted through me did he slow his pace, holding my head in place as he used my mouth for his pleasure.

  “Fuck, you take my cock so well.” The roughness in his voice made me moan. I could hear the pleasure in his words, barely controlled, and I moved my tongue along his shaft, eager to feel him throb. “Ah...fuck, baby girl…”

  The pet name stirred something in me, something light, fluttery, and warm in my belly. He’d never called me that before. His pet names had always carried a teasing tone, but this one — this one was tight with his pleasure, this one dropped from his lips as if he hadn’t even thought about it, as if it had come out in a moment of vulnerability.

  It made the intense arousal flooding me blaze even hotter. I gripped his hips as I began to move my head in rhythm with his thrusts. I dug my fingers into him, then reached around and clawed at his back. I wanted to leave my marks on him. I wanted to draw blood. I didn’t know if I could possibly even make this monster feel pain, but I wanted to try.

  His thrusts became harder, and he laid his palm against my stinging cheek, encouraging me to look up at him. “You’re going to swallow every drop, aren’t you?” he growled, and I managed to nod my head around his girth. I longed for the taste of him, I wanted it so badly that I groaned. He held my head in place, thrusting deep as his cock throbbed against my tongue, then flooded my mouth with his cum.

  I gulped down every drop of him. I clung to him, holding him deep in my throat so I wouldn’t miss a drop. Every time my mouth tightened as I swallowed around him, his hips twitched forward, shudders going up his back.

  He pulled away from my mouth, gripped my chin, and with my lips still wet with him, he kissed me with a hunger that wanted to crawl inside of me, that wanted to swallow me whole. I bit at his lip and he bit back, then his tongue was in my mouth and I found myself limp in his grip, all the tastes of him an intoxicating cocktail in my mouth.

  “You’re fucking filthy,” he whispered, parting from me just enough to speak. I smiled — tear-stained face, cum down my chin, mascara running.

  “Make me filthier.”

  He spit on my lips, and as he watched me lick it off, I thought he might truly lose control. The viciousness in his eyes, the hunger there, was nothing short of terrifying. Terrifying, and yet I’d never wanted someone so badly. Every nerve in my body was on fire, sensitive to the touch. I held back a shriek as he lifted me from the floor and threw me back on the bed, where I landed on the sleek sheets and soft pillows. I scrambled, another useless attempt to struggle, but he pinned me down on my back and yanked down my skirt.

  “You’re still hard?�
� I gasped, as if I couldn’t see what was obvious. It was as if he hadn’t even orgasmed: his cock was still rigidly hard, a pearly bead of precum sliding from the tip as he pushed my legs apart.

  “Remember what I am, baby girl,” he growled. “I’m hard as long as I want to be.” He leaned closer, a whisper against my skin. “And I promised to ruin you.”

  I was dripping wet, but the stretch of him entering me still made me cry out. He covered my mouth with his hand, stifling my noise as he filled me deeply. “Remember,” he hissed harshly, biting at my neck as he spoke. “Three taps if you want out.” The reminder of the signal grounded me for a moment, reminding me of reality, before I floated right back into that delicious, dark fantasy.

  Watching him over me, his face masked, his eyes bright, bloodied marks from my teeth on his lips, brought me to the edge of orgasm almost immediately. The stretch of his cock inside me, and his fingers rubbing my clit shoved me off the precipice and sent me tumbling into ecstasy.

  I clenched around him, screaming against his hand as he fucked me into oblivion. He slowed his pace, drawing out every second of pleasure. But then, even as the waves receded and I managed to catch my breath, my head light, he whispered, “You’re not done yet. I want to see you come again. Scream for me again.”

  He lifted my legs, holding them up so he could reach an even deeper angle. My shuddering pussy clenched again, every touch on my overly-sensitive, swollen clit making me twitch. I was crying, “Please, please, please,” against his hand, my mind spiraling into thoughtless bliss. He bit against my neck, his lips curving into a smile on my skin as I arched up against him, hardly able to draw breath as my tension wound tighter and tighter.

  I sounded like an animal as I cried out against his hand, shaking under him, the flood of endorphins making me sob. I barely realized I was crying until his hands were wiping away my tears, kissing my face, murmuring, “Easy, baby girl. You did so good, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

  I turned my head, to press my face against his chest as he lay down beside me. I felt silly for crying: I wasn’t sad, I wasn’t scared, I wasn’t hurt. But it had been so good, so wildly consuming, that crying against his chest for another minute felt like catharsis.

  “Sorry.” I giggled as I sniffled, just an absolute mess all around. “Sorry about the crying —”

  He pressed a finger to my lips, shushing me. “Don’t you dare apologize. Come down however you need to. I’m here with you.”

  We lay there in silence, listening to the distant thump of the music. As I calmed, I realized that the knot of anxiety that had been tormenting me for days was gone. He’d unraveled it, with his fingers, his tongue, his wicked words. Nothing that lurked outside was as dangerous as him.

  And I was his. He treasured what was his.

  “Enough of a distraction for you?” He smirked at me, and I pulled up the mask he wore because I wanted to see his face. It hadn’t been all that long since I’d last seen him, but it still took my breath away. His beauty was dangerous, it was alluring. Like those brightly-colored poisonous frogs, with looks that begged to be touched but would kill you with one brush of your fingertips. But I touched him anyway, caressing my fingers over his face.

  “It was a good distraction,” I said.

  “Hopefully I’ve fucked those anxious thoughts out of your head. Don’t waste that sweet fear on vile beasts, not when I’m here.”

  But how long will you be here?

  We couldn’t lay there forever. He told me not to be afraid, but I knew he was still on alert: he was still listening for footsteps, his eyes still darted toward the window, the door. He was anxious, so I didn’t have to be. But for another minute, it felt good just to lay there, just to breathe, just to feel his fingers play in my hair.

  “I’m surprised a demon would use a safeword,” I murmured, staring at the chandelier overhead. The bed was absurdly comfortable, but the painting of the woman behind me was giving me the illusion of eyes looking down at me.

  He sniffed, shaking his head. “We demons value free will above all else. We may play with the illusion of being forced, but what fun is it if your victim doesn’t desperately want you? We don’t call it that in Hell, a safeword. We all know to call mercy if the play needs to end. It’s a more polite, and rather more intimate, way of saying, Stop or I’ll make you stop.” He shrugged, then after a moment, shoved himself up off the bed with a grin.

  “I’ve always wanted to desecrate this bed,” he said, holding his hand out to me to help me up. “Finally got to make it properly filthy.”

  “Kent may have to burn it,” I said, as he wrapped me up in his arms and held me close again. His lips pressed against the top of my head, and I whispered. “I missed you.”

  I meant it, but it set my heart pounding to say it out loud. He tensed, his grip on me tightening slightly. “Why?”

  Because you make me feel safe, warm, wanted, and you have a monster dick that gives me the best orgasms of my life.

  I wasn’t quite able to meet his gaze. “I like having you around.”

  When I did finally look up, his brows had drawn together as if my words were confusing. He let me go to rub the back of his head, ruffling his hair. “Well, you’re certainly one of the first humans to say that.” He awkwardly cleared his throat. “We’ve spent enough time here. Let’s get down below.”

  I’d never seen Kent open the way down to the basement; given that my binding circle was down there, I could simply teleport to it at Kent’s command. I could only leave the circle with his permission, and he’d usually phrased his commands in such a way that I had to immediately return to it when my tasks were done. The basement was a place I’d never wanted to step foot in again, never wanted to see nor smell nor come close to.

  But here I was.

  I knew the entrance was somewhere in his master bedroom, and I suspected it had something to do with the massive bookshelf against the far wall, with a strange gap at the bottom as if there was a track underneath. That was what I inspected first.

  Playing with Rae, taking out my nervous energy on her as she did the same to me, had calmed some of my unease at being in this damned house. But it still lingered, a prickling of anxiety on the back of my skull. I hated this room. I hated the smell of it. I hated the perfectly clean carpets and white walls, and that there was still a faint smell in the air of those cigars Kent loved to smoke. I didn’t want to stay here for a moment longer than I had to, hearing Jeremiah and Victoria distantly in the house as they got drunker and louder. The temptation to go out there and slaughter them was strong, but Hell’s royals-in-charge frowned upon demons making spectacles of themselves in front of humans.

  Slaughtering the Hadleigh siblings in front of a crowd of drunk college students sounded fun, but wasn’t worth the ensuing fall out from Hell.

  “I take it you didn’t find the grimoire?” Rae asked from behind me, watching me as I felt along the underside of the shelves.

  Oh, yes, I found the grimoire. But I’m too obsessed with you to leave you, so here I am, still risking life and limb to be near you, still driven absolutely mad by your voice and smell and eyes —

  “No, didn’t find it yet,” I looked back over my shoulder and gave her a wink. “Lucky for you.”

  The more I reminded her how “lucky” she was that I was still here, the more I felt like a complete asshole. Implying that the grimoire was the only thing keeping me from leaving was a vile lie, one she couldn’t possibly believe for much longer. I’d gladly admit I was generally a dick, but Rae made me want to be...nice...to her.

  Only to her. Everyone else could get fucked.

  In a far corner of the shelf, my fingers grazed over a cold metal plate set into the wood. I pressed it, stepped back, and the bookshelf moved silently across the track, slipping into the wall and revealing a stairway leading down into the dark. Rae gasped, stepping forward eagerly as if she was ready to run straight down into the dark. I pressed my hand against her chest, stilling
her as fluorescent lights flickered on and illuminated the cold, concrete stairwell.

  “Are there cameras down there?” she whispered, as if the stairs themselves might hear and tattle. “Or motion sensors?”

  I shrugged. “Don’t know. There’s only one room down there I’ve been in. We need to be quick.”

  She nodded determinedly. There was a flush to her face, and her heartbeat had sped up again. She was excited — of course she was. Facing down a dangerous adventure? Better than a walk in the park apparently.

  There was something so painfully hot about this tiny woman’s foolhardy bravery.

  She went ahead and I followed, pressing another metal plate on the inner wall to close the bookshelf behind us. We went down two flights of stairs, and more lights flickered on overhead.

  “Wow.” Rae’s eyes widened as she peered around the space. “This looks like a supervillain’s headquarters.”

  “It may as well be.” I was getting a creeping, nasty feeling up my back being in here. The black-painted concrete walls and wooden floors couldn’t disguise the claustrophobic crushing weight of this place. Demons weren’t meant to be underground, yet that was where the Hadleighs had always kept me.

  “Is this his evil conference table?” Rae said, smiling at her own joke as she circled the long, shining wood table set up in the middle of the room, lined with chairs. She’d taken her phone out of her pocket, and as she wandered around, she held it up to record. I didn’t have much faith in human justice systems, but if the Hadleighs wanted to make my girl disappear, it would only be harder for them the more records that remained of her whereabouts. Recording her exploration here was probably a good idea.

  “I’d hear them talking sometimes,” I said. “His closest members of the Libiri would meet with him here.”