Ghost (The Halloween Boys #1) (66)

Her answering whine was enough. I swooped her into my arms and carried her to my bed. She unbuttoned her jeans, and I peeled them away from her rounded hips. “Take off your shirt,” I ordered. I stepped back as she obeyed, her breasts falling like the most faultless church bells. She leaned back on her elbows, breathing ragged, biting at the corner of her lips.

“You’re making me nervous just staring at me like that,” she said softly. But I couldn’t pull my gaze from her.

“I could stare at you for two hundred lifetimes and it wouldn’t be enough to take you in.” Not just a figure of speech for me. It was true.

Her lips parted beneath rosy cheeks. “We haven’t even kissed yet,” she answered with a smile.

I dropped to my knees before her, like a dark and desperate prayer from a monster. “We will. I’m saving it for the right moment.”

I gripped her hips and pulled her closer to the edge of the bed. She gasped before leaning up on her elbows. Reaching forward, she removed my glasses, which were starting to fog. She brushed the dark curls of my hair aside as I gazed up at her overtop of her stunning pussy. “Your eyes . . . ,” she trailed off. I wondered if she was piecing it together yet. I didn’t give her time to work it out, to match my blue to the blue behind the paint at Hallows. My mouth found her with a hungry suck. Her moan was a hymn fit for the church I was tasting her in. Her flesh and the dripping between her thighs were an offering upon the altar for her own personal demon.

I pushed a finger inside her tight center and hissed. “Fuck, you’re so tight, Little Ghost.”

She hummed, writhing beneath my mouth. “I’ve never done this before,” she panted.

I let my lips vibrate against her wetness as a grumble left my throat. “No one’s tasted you before?”

“I’m . . . I’m a virgin.”

I pulled back as if struck. “You’ve never been touched?”

“No, I have. I’ve been with guys, and girls, too. But just . . . messing around. Not . . . this. Or full-on sex.”

My cock twitched and my demon raged like a feral animal clawing to be freed. He wanted to fuck her. I wanted to take her like that too. To paint my demon cock red with her virgin blood . . . To feel her tight walls squeeze and milk me for everything my wretched body would give. I wanted to envelope her with my seven-feet-tall form and look at her with my clear vision, my body and senses not muffled by my mortal mask. As a human, I was like a bird with weights on its wings. As a demon . . . I could ravish her the way I desired. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” I said despite myself. Though I hated that, every urge in my body wanted to chain her down and fuck her for weeks on end. Until she was screaming and raw from pleasure. Oh, those screams . . .

“I want you,” she replied, her voice so sweet, so pure. “I want you,” she repeated, and I realized she was mirroring what I’d said to her. My stupid words that only half meant sex and half meant . . . more.

“Lie back, Little Ghost,” I instructed. I dipped between her thighs again, and this time, there was no pulling me away. Her hips bucked at my face as I inserted a finger again. My other hand curled around her ass, pushing her into me. I lapped at her slit like the ravenous monster I was. Her physical flavor paired with the palatable honey of her arousal as it heightened. I could feel the flavor of her peak as it neared and taste the sweetness of her bliss, surprise, passion, curiosity, all emotions I never got to savor until now. I wanted to shift. My demon wanted a taste so fucking badly. Perhaps I’d indulge in one thing… she wouldn’t see. Checking to make sure her eyes were closed, I let him have a bit of what he wanted. I groaned into her wet cunt, knowing what I was about to do was wrong. Since when did I give a shit?

I took her clit between my lips and sucked before nibbling with my teeth. My shifted tongue rolled out then, forked and gripping at her sweet bundle of nerves. She tightened around my finger as her grip pulled at my hair. Breathy whimpers sang along the stone walls of the church attic, an angel’s little death song. The honey in my mouth intensified as I pumped in and out, hooking inside her, pressing on that delightful spot along her inner walls. Fuck, she tasted so good on my true, depraved, taste buds. “That’s it, darling. Give it to me. Give me what’s mine,” I growled, hearing a hint of my evil. My full shift was hanging by a thread. Letting out the long, forked tongue wasn’t enough. It took every ounce of power within me to keep the full change contained beneath my mortal, paper thin flesh. With sudden need, I removed my fingers and let my tongue snake inside her wanting opening. Pushing in, swirling, searching, and tasting her from within. A moan rumbled in my throat as I explored the inside of her.

She pulled my hair. “Whatever you’re doing. . . it feels so good.” Her head fell back onto the pillow as her back arched.

Her pleasure exploded into a cascade of sugared wine down the length of my tongue. She cried out, the most solemn and erotic declaration. One I didn’t deserve, especially from her, but I’d drink every drop she offered. My mouth didn’t stop its hungered swipes until she shoved at my face, breathlessly begging me to stop. I would. This time.

When she came down from her orgasm I crawled into the bed, pulling her close, my fun tongue replaced with my boring one. Her naked body felt like holding a goddess in my arms. I tangled my fingers in her hair, twirling a curl softly. “Stay with me tonight,” I ordered softly. It wasn’t optional, of course, but it would be easier if I could get her to think she was agreeing. I wasn’t even willing to give Blythe the illusion of freedom right now. Not when something not of this world was hunting her. Not when the taste of her arousal was still slick on my lips.