How to Lose a Demon in 10 Days (14 page)

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Authors: Saranna DeWylde

BOOK: How to Lose a Demon in 10 Days
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C
HAPTER
S
EVENTEEN
Hot Dog Down a Hallway
M
ichael Grigorovich was balls deep, as Caspian was wont to describe it, but he wasn’t happy about the fact. To be honest, he was getting as much pleasure from being with Dina as screwing a wet paper bag. Not at all a good time. Some of his men had once described doing certain women to be like throwing a hot dog down a hallway. He now understood. Dina just lay there; her pussy was lax and wide. The least she could do was clench her interior walls so he could feel them. Otherwise, it was just like a hot-dog toss: nothing but open space for miles and miles.
Her passivity made him want to hurt her—anything to get some sort of reaction. Well, he also just liked hurting women. It made him hard to see their faces twisted in pain, to hear their high-pitched pleading for him to stop, to feel the way their bodies contorted when they tried to fight. It was nothing short of divine.
Dina was so skinny that her hips were digging into his. When he looked down, he could see her ribs jutting out more prominently than her breasts. Her bra would have fit better backward. She did have a great ass, though. She’d have to starve herself with a little more discipline to get rid of that.
Michael pulled out and turned her over. She didn’t protest because she thought he was going to enter her from behind. And he was. But his idea of rear entry was somewhat different.
When she felt his intent, she tried to say no, but he pushed her face down into the pillow.
“Try it.” It wasn’t a request.
His cock was slick from being inside her and he pushed himself past the tight ring of muscles. Now
this
, Michael decided, this was good. It was tight and hot, and she was crying. The fast track to multiple orgasms. For him.
That is, until he felt a stabbing pain in his ass. He cried out and started to withdraw and immediately the pain lessened. Deciding it must be over, he entered her again—and the pain came back. A red-hot poker was being shoved into his nethers.
He wanted to scream, but he was no woman. Instead, he pushed harder on the back of Dina’s neck. This was her fault, somehow, a theory confirmed when he felt himself begin to lose air as she struggled for breath.
Bitch! Fucking bitch! He’d
kill
her. He used his free hand, closing it around her throat to snap her neck, but immediately felt pressure on his own throat. He tried to enter her again, but felt the same horrible pain as he had before.
“I’d think you’d have figured it out by now,” a voice said behind him. He turned and saw Ethelred leaning against the doorway, watching.
Dina shrieked at the intrusion. Michael slapped the back of her head. “Shut up, bitch.” He resisted the urge to flinch when he felt the slap against his own head. “Figured what out?”
“Remember that little bit of Latin Gracie whispered at you in your bar?”
“Not really, no. It didn’t seem important at the time.” He rolled off Dina and shoved her out of the way, sprawling out angrily on the bed as she crashed to the floor.
“Well, you’re feeling the effects of the spell right now. Everything you do will come back to you.”
Dina tried to pull the sheet down to cover her nakedness, but Michael refused to let her have it. She’d have to walk by Ethelred to get to the bathroom and retrieve her clothes; it was either that or sit on the floor naked.
She stood and lifted her head, tossing her blond hair over her shoulders. Ethelred gave her an appreciative swat on the ass, and she grimaced. “Proof I’m not a total cad,” he said. Her expression relaxed.
Michael scowled. “What did you do?”
“Do I answer to you?” Ethelred swung his head around like a lion that had just caught the scent of blood.
“I summoned you,” Michael said petulantly.
“Yes, you did, and you let me out of the circle, too. Didn’t you? Your soul is mine, Michael Ivan Grigorovich. You’ve signed in blood my book of debts. You owe me a thousand years of servitude.” Ethelred’s irises burned as he spoke of the contract. “And you bear your mother’s debt as well.”
“It won’t matter when you have Grace,” Michael said with confidence.
Ethelred smiled, baring sharp teeth. “You are correct.”
“So, what did she do to me and how do I break it?”
“She cast a Karma spell on you. Your Karma is immediate, however. Your bad acts register instantly, the sensation of whatever you do to another person replicated against you.”
“She has the power for something like that?”
“Oh, yes. Grace is powerful beyond her ken. She even managed to bleach Caspian’s hair with a banishing potion.”
“Big deal.” Michael snorted.
“It is indeed, little man. It is indeed. No mortal magick can touch a Crown Prince of Hell.”
Michael shrugged. “I told her she has ten days to get rid of the bastard or I’ll kill Nikoli.”
“That doesn’t seem to have stopped them from enjoying your hot tub.”
“What do you mean?” Michael asked as he pulled his pants on.
“He was right here shagging her two shades of blue the night of the opera. Had her in your hot tub. Made her scream his name really loud, too.” Ethelred looked gleeful as he relayed this information.
“I’m going to kill her.”
“I wouldn’t. Not while you’re under her Karma spell. Well, I suppose if you’re ready to begin serving your time in Hell as my bitch . . .”
Michael curled his fists and slammed them into the bed, growling through his clenched teeth. “Damn it. God. Damn. It.” He looked for a moment as if he would start chewing on the coverlet. “What do I do?”
A large, leather-bound tome appeared. It looked longer than
The Odyssey
and heavier than a block of cement.
“Ah, Michael, my lad, you know nothing is free.” Ethelred winked. “Sign on the dotted line and I will map out a plan.”
C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN
More Rabbits
I
t was a neon Sodom and Gomorrah, a modern-day pleasure palace, a carnal candy store. The lights were extremely bright, and as she stood next to the building Grace Stregaria felt as obvious as a swollen and red baboon butt during mating season. It had taken her a day and a tank of gas to even pull into the parking lot.
The remedy would be to go inside, but she wasn’t quite ready to do that. She was embarrassed, even though there were sunglasses perched on the end of her nose tinted like something you’d see on a highway patrolman and her hair was covered by an old scarf that was Hollywood couture. To be honest, she was right to be nervous. Her outfit only made her stand out more.
Grace prided herself on being a modern woman with modern ideas. She’d told herself that she was comfortable with her needs, that they were nothing to be ashamed of. But it was different logging in to a Web site, browsing whatever struck her fancy and examining it in as much detail as she liked, compared to actually asking a real person, to his or her face, if an item could make her scream in tongues and change her religion. It was a hoarse cry of a different color. And her packages always arrived in discreet brown wrappers with banal if neatly printed labels like Jane & Dick Distribution. Not bright red bags that screamed Plastic Cock.
Then, of course, there was the manner of item she was buying. Grace had broken several clit snugglers, dildos, and other toys designed to bring a woman to orgasm. The only thing that never broke was her Rabbit—well, until Caspian broke it. The Rabbit had gone until she couldn’t, and then some. There was never any choking to death for the poor creature, its batteries sputtering to a miserable end just before she got off. It was industrial strength, had a cable for a wall socket, and was a true
power
tool.
Yup, even if it was pretty—a glittery, unicorn purple—it was still what you would call a bad motherfucker. That was why she was so embarrassed. Guys seeing her carrying it out of here would think she gave velvet cave tours complete with men in lighted hats and trolleys where they could get out and take pictures. Guided spelunking expeditions. It wasn’t really the sort of reputation she wanted, even if she didn’t know these people, probably would never know them, and knew rationally that they didn’t give three buffalo cakes about what she did with her hoo-ha or what she shoved inside it. After all, if the thing didn’t sell, they wouldn’t carry it. Therefore, more than one hoo-ha in the world had to be partial to a plastic purple penis able to violate its owner in many different ways.
She took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Correction: She tried to push the door open. And Grace was so nervous that her feet didn’t notice as the rest of her stopped moving. Her head made a distinct
thunk
as it hit the glass.
Damn security. Her face flamed a bright, candy apple red. Even if she was a modern girl with no hang-ups whatsoever, how the hell was she supposed to get into the establishment if the door was locked? Were they closed?
As she searched for a sign with listed hours, a voice informed her, “There’s a bell.”
Grace looked up through the window to see possibly the most beautiful woman she’d ever laid eyes on. Ringlets of long hair spilled down that could only be described as crimson. It was the deepest, most fiery red Grace had ever seen, more so even than her cheeks after walking into the locked door.
She tried to glance away, but the woman had an aura that was irresistible. Grace managed to drop her gaze to the redhead’s feet, but the woman’s vinyl fuck-me boots led up perfect legs to black patent-leather hot pants and a green angora sweater that covered a bosom bigger even than her own. Maybe. Her green eyes were bright and friendly, and her mouth curved into a smile with perfect white teeth.
She was probably a demon; Grace consoled herself with that fact. A person would have to sell their soul to get teeth that straight and white. All of the demons she’d met had lovely smiles, Caspian included, and he’d been born back when mortals still chewed on leaves to clean their teeth.
Grace realized that she hadn’t replied. “Oh.” It was all she could get out.
“Is this your first time here, honey?” the redhead asked.
Grace nodded.
“I’m Jill.” The woman reached over and pushed a button. A bell rang, and the distinct sound of a disengaging latch echoed outward. Jill pushed the door open.
“I’m Grace.”
“I know,” the redhead said with a smile.
She knew? Grace was rooted to the spot by a sense of overwhelming dread. How did this creature know who she was? “Creature” was the perfect description, too. She had to be a demon.
“Don’t be afraid, dearie. I’m your . . . demon godmother, so to speak.”
“You look familiar.”
“I should. Last time you saw me, I was wrapped in plastic and that douche bag Petru was stuffing me into a Dumpster.”
“You were
dead
.” Grace managed to keep her voice calm. Reanimated corpses were dangerous things, not something that she wanted any part of. Though, this Jill didn’t stink like rotten eggs and mildew. No, she smelled more like roses. Michael’s favorite scent.
“Sure was,” Jill agreed, dragging her over to a display.
“It begs the question . . .” Grace let the question hang.
Jill began shoving jelly cock after hard-molded phallus into Grace’s arms, something shaped like a butterfly, a bullet, a device with a remote control that looked like it needed a bomb squad, a clit clamp—something Grace was
sure
she wouldn’t be interested in—something else like a nipple vacuum, and finally a ball gag. Grace felt every eye in the shop train on her like snipers, but Jill was oblivious. The redhead eyed her critically and seemed not quite satisfied.
The once-dead beauty held up a traditional set of handcuffs and a pink fur-lined pair. “The question would be: fur, or no fur?”
“No fur. I mean, if you’re going to have the experience, you might as well go all out.”
Jill tossed the package on top of what Grace already held. “That-a-girl!”
“But I really can’t very well handcuff myself,” Grace pointed out.
The redhead snorted. “Of course, you can. You’re a witch.”
Grace paused. She had to admit she was kind of disappointed that Caspian hadn’t miracled himself into the middle of the conversation and offered to do it for her. In fact, she’d kind of expected that. She had to remind herself that it was a good thing he hadn’t. She’d told him to go away, and he had. He wasn’t forcing his rights, the rights she’d given him by contract. She sighed aloud as Jill dragged her forcibly through the store.
“If you want him back, just say so. He’ll come.”
“I don’t.” She didn’t bother asking how Jill knew her reason for acting like a middle-schooler.
“Then why are you sighing, all morose and bereft? It certainly can’t be from the loss of Michael.” Jill rolled her eyes, then paused in front of another display. “Oh, sweet bleeding hell, that’s not it, is it? You’re not one of those who likes abusive shit bags?”
“Oh, no.
No.
Fuck him with a rusty potato peeler. I don’t care about him at all. The only thing that concerns me is my son.”
Jill smiled with diabolical intent. “I just might.”
“Might? What?”
“Oh, nothing.” The redhead tossed a whip onto Grace’s pile.
“Hold on,” Grace said.
“That’s for me, sweetie,” Jill promised.
“Oh. Uh, the rest is for me? I really think this is plenty. I just wanted a new Rabbit.”
“The plug-in one, right? God. Yum.”
Grace found herself liking the other woman, even though the jealousy bug had taken a big old bite out of her hindquarters. There was something real about her, honest and open. It seemed to say she took the world for what it was and it didn’t scare her; it just made her hungry for more. She was alive—more so than anyone else Grace had met—and this gave her a certain charisma. She decided to say, “So, you didn’t answer me. How did you come to be what you are?”
“Your grandma. She’s a class act, that one.”
“She’d dead,” Grace pointed out, as if this would be a startling surprise.
“So was I. Anything is possible. She brought me back to do the one thing that I need to do. She gave me demonhood. Michael is . . .” She trailed off.
“Michael is what?”
“Can’t tell you, honey. I’m sorry. But I figured I’d come help you since she can’t. You seem . . . kind of awkward. Plus, I like you.”
“I like you, too,” Grace replied, “but my arms are starting to hurt.”
Jill laughed. “Oh, sure. Let’s go pay. I have demon credit.” She flashed an odd-looking piece of plastic.
Grace grinned. “Actually, if you’ll let me get my purse, I have a credit card in Michael’s name.”
“Oh, well, in
that
case.” Jill dashed to a wall, and just as quickly the entire contents of the display were piled on the counter.
So much for being inconspicuous. This did indeed cause every eye in the store to focus on them. Two hot women with an end-of-the-world supply of sex toys? Yeah. They all thought that she and Jill were going to be elbow deep in each other before they got home.
Grace’s face flamed again, but she bit down on her lip to keep her mouth shut. If she tried to deny they were together, it would just be worse. Besides, why couldn’t a witch and her demonic godmother go rubber-dick shopping together?
“I think I have a box in the back. Let me go get it,” the cashier said, sauntering off with a happy hitch to his step, something not altogether at home on his bent form.
Jesus Harold with a riding crop! They needed a box?
Jill was standing there, a smug queen of debauchery and happy about it. She met every turned eye with a brazen shamelessness that Grace admired. She wanted the same for herself. She wished she felt just as devil-may-care.
Thinking about it, Grace made up her mind. These people could all think what they liked. So
what
if they knew she was going home to . . . she’d been about to say “jill-off,” but the terminology seemed unfairly personal somehow, considering her new friend’s name. Anyway, she could start a fire by rubbing her bean if she wanted and it was her business and hers alone. The haters were all cordially invited to shove a—
Jill interrupted her thoughts. “I have to go. I’ll pick up my loot from your place later, okay?”
“Why?” Grace asked. Then, “Oh, no. You’re not leaving me with this pile of perversions to lug home all on my own.”
“I’m outranked,” Jill whispered. “It seems that there are princely powers that have plans for your sweet self.” Then Jill hugged her, hard and fast, and scurried out the door.
Grace’s eyes ignored the commands of her brain and scanned the room for those “princely powers.” Scanned it hopefully, feeling a rush. She didn’t see any, however, so she in turn ignored her stomach, pretending those slam-dancing butterflies hadn’t turned to bricks. If it was Caspian, where exactly was he?
She turned back to the cashier, who was eyeing her lasciviously.
“Where did your friend go?” he asked, ringing up each item and stuffing it into the large cardboard box he’d brought from the back.
“She was late for an appointment.”
“I see.” The cashier held up the ball gag. “Interesting. I didn’t know you were into this.”
A couple of customers were once again intrigued by what was going on at the register. Grace just blushed and looked at her feet, but a moment later she realized that the cashier shouldn’t know anything about what she was into. Which meant . . . this homely little troll was Caspian! The sneaky bastard. He wanted to play with and taunt her? He wanted to play up her embarrassment here? Oh, and he still had it coming for the murder most foul he’d committed earlier.
She smiled lasciviously at the little man. “Yeah, I’m a total freak. What can I say?” Later she would contemplate why that statement had rolled off her tongue like honey. The implication would haunt her. Was she indeed a freak?
He chortled a bit and inspected the next item. It was a cock corset. “Who’s
this
for?”
“Not sure. You maybe. If you play your cards right.” Grace smiled.
The cashier narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowed. “Really? That desperate for cock, are you?”
“Insatiable, really.” Another embarrassing truth, at the moment. But to hell with it. This was all Caspian’s fault. Let him deal with the consequences.
“Why do you need all this stuff? Don’t you have a boyfriend?”
“Nope,” she replied. “Had somebody I was fucking, but you know, he didn’t want anything deeper. Wouldn’t take me to dinner. Wouldn’t do
any
thing. Doomed relationship, really.”
The little guy was still ringing up items and shoving them into the cardboard box. He’d apparently given up on trying to embarrass her. “You couldn’t just, you know, shag him because it’s fun?”

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