How to Lose a Demon in 10 Days (17 page)

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Authors: Saranna DeWylde

BOOK: How to Lose a Demon in 10 Days
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“Why not?” Caspian looked annoyed.
“You know why not.” Then Grace shoved another bite of peanut noodles into her mouth so she didn’t have to say anything else. But he didn’t speak, either.
“Caspian,” she began.
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“All I said was your name,” she said.
“Yeah, but you said it all put upon and miserable like. As if we need to, you know, talk or something. There’s no need for any of that.”
“No? So, what is there a need for?”
“I think you know,” he said, and arched a deliciously devilish brow.
Grace gulped audibly. All this guy did was eat, screw, and tamper with her peace of mind. Didn’t he have other goals? Like, didn’t he have to recruit contractees for his evil schemes? Didn’t he have to tend the fires of Hell? Didn’t he have
something
to do other than her?
It seemed not. This was really going to suck, being at the bottom of her options list. Grace was going to be forced to have bad sex. Not only bad sex, but really bad, horrible, no-good sex. Sex that would make Caspian cringe like he’d just had fourteen fillings and was required by law to chew on tinfoil.
Yup, she had no other choice. She’d tried banishing him, had tried talking about her feelings, made him jealous as all hell with sex toys, but none of it had made him go away. Grace had even asked him to leave, and she’d just ended up getting one of her private fantasies fulfilled in a carriage barreling down a country road. So now she was going to have to be a bad lay.
Her ego would take a blow. She was going to have to do something awful, something so that there would be no coming back. She was going to have to be so bad that in a hundred years Caspian would still think of her and cringe. And it wasn’t something she could apologize for or even explain. He was just going to have to think it was what she’d wanted and intended.
She was sorely tempted to let this time be one last good one. After all, she’d seen Caspian in all of his Viking/pirate/ highwayman glory. Just one more time! But that was being selfish. While she was a reasonable red-blooded witch, she just couldn’t ask for true love and fidelity. Not marriage. Not fatherhood. None of these were possible where demons were concerned, and she wanted and needed all of them. Having great sex one more time would just draw things out.
So, how to start? She didn’t ponder long before blessed—or cursed, depending on how you wanted to see it—inspiration struck. She knew just want to do. Caspian would want to get his cock at least three states away after she launched this next stunt.
Grace smiled docilely, which should have been his first clue that not all was hunky in Doryville. She crawled onto his lap and kissed his mouth, his chin, his cheek. They were sweet kisses, lingering and soft, until she scraped her teeth along the edge of his jaw. He made a pleased sound low in his throat and filled his hands with the firm globes of her bottom, positioning her to rub together their appropriate anatomies. It felt like heaven. It was so good that she didn’t want it to end.
But it had to. This was where the Baloney Pony Express made its last stop.
She shifted and moved down his body, and freed his cock from his jeans and took it into her mouth. Grace loved how his clothes changed to suit his environment. She loved the flesh that was in her mouth, too. The only problem was the demon to which it was attached. The demon and her feelings for him. She could
do
this.
“Grace,” he cried out. Grasping the back of her head, he pushed her down farther—which was just the motivation she needed. She hated when guys held her head, not letting her get away or move however she chose. Regardless of the fact that she herself had used his ears like handlebars, this was different. Caspian didn’t have to breathe.
She tried to pull away, but he didn’t seem inclined to let her. So she bit down. Not too hard, of course. Just enough to get his attention. And Grace would have to say that, yes, the move was definitely an attention getter. He popped her off him with a noise like champagne being uncorked.
Actually, she wasn’t sure if there was an audible pop, because of the ringing in her ears from the swift movement of her head. Caspian hadn’t hurt her, though, for which she was grateful. She couldn’t imagine what Michael would have done. The bastard.
“Are you okay?” Caspian asked. “I’m sorry I pushed you, but that was rather unpleasant. Um, did you have to sneeze or something?”
“No.”
“Oh,” he said. He looked a bit disconcerted, but then ran his hand over her hair in an unquestionably tender way. Nimue’s Buttery Butt! She’d just bit him in the worst place a woman could bite, and he was apologizing? He was just too good to be true. What did she have to do to make him not want her?
“I couldn’t breathe,” she admitted. “You wouldn’t let go of my head. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I didn’t fancy choking, either. Not very high up on the list of cool ways to die.”
He looked sheepish. “Sorry.”
Grace was, too.
She supposed the key to her problem lay in finding out whatever it was that would make
her
not want
him
anymore, at least not as desperately as she did. But somehow she knew she’d have better luck finding a virgin after Beltane.
“Let’s try this again,” he said. Sweeping her into his arms, he bent her back for a soul-searing, knight-in-shining-armor kiss. She let him complete it, of course; as the heroine of the story it was sort of required.
Why couldn’t she have sought a traditional form of revenge and just seduced one of Michael’s rivals? Someone he couldn’t kill. Why hadn’t she thought of that? No, she’d had to jump feetfirst into demon-summoning. The water kept getting deeper, and she was about to drown. It wouldn’t be wholly unpleasant, either.
Resting on the back of her couch for support, she found herself naked again and on her knees with her legs spread wide. He was underneath. His tongue was delving into her slick heat and she was begging for more. Again. How did he always do that? Last thing she knew, he was kissing her and doing the romance-novel backbend. Now she was naked and grinding herself against his talented mouth.
This couldn’t go on. No. It just couldn’t. And there was something she could do to end this, but it was too horrible to contemplate. It was something she wouldn’t wish on anyone, but here she was with no other option. She tensed, preparing . . .
Just as she was about to do something she’d regret for the rest of her life, Caspian tapped her thigh. Grace realized then that she was very, very full. His tongue had stretched and filled her more than even his wonderful cock, and she had a momentary shiver of pleasure remembering everything he’d done with that. But from the frantic taps on her thigh, Grace didn’t think this was something he’d done on purpose.
She tried to move, shifting her leg so that she was no longer riding his face like a competition pony, but she found that she couldn’t; Caspian had somehow anchored her there with his tongue. There were sparks of magick swirling off his fingertips, but these didn’t seem to be doing any good. He was still good and stuck.
Every shift was delicious. She felt just a little bit bad about enjoying his discomfort, but Goddess above, was he ever hitting her G-spot. She reluctantly twisted so that she was lying on her back and he was on his stomach on the couch, but he was still attached. Docked and locked in the station, as it were.
He mumbled something that sounded like
peanuts
. What in the name of all that was holy did peanuts have to do with anything? Maybe he was saying
penis
? That was possible. But then he repeated himself, and it was definitely what she’d first thought. Not penis.
“Peanuts? What about peanuts? The Thai you brought had peanut noodles.”
Caspian muttered something unintelligible. His breath teasing across her clit made Grace shudder with desire, and her muscles contracted around his swollen tongue. He shook his head, which created an effect like he was giving her puss a raspberry. And while he seemed upset, Grace found the imagery hysterical.
She wanted him to keep moving. “Caspian, it’s so good. Please,” she begged.
She was so wet that his engorged oral member should have just fallen like candy out of a mangled piñata. After she thought about it, she discarded that image. She didn’t care for the comparison. Not at all. Again he tried to speak, saying something else that sounded like peanuts. What was with this obsession? Why did he want peanuts when he was nose deep—
Oh! He couldn’t be allergic, could he? Caspian didn’t breathe unless he wanted to, so a tongue swollen from an allergic reaction shouldn’t be a big deal. Should it? He seemed like he was in a lot of distress, but so did her clit. It was swollen, too, and he kept breathing on it like he was puffing life into a dying ember. His tongue was so distended, however, it probably felt like she was trying to pull it out of his mouth like a dandelion every time her body contracted.
“Caspian, are you allergic to peanuts?”
There came more mumbling from around her very wet and aching private parts.
“Look, sweetie, I can’t understand you. Where is your magick?”
Caspian could bend space and time, but he was laid low by a peanut? Really? Grace shook her head. He’d been the one who’d ordered the food tonight, or so she’d thought. Why had he ordered something that was going to make him sick?
She tried to use her own magick, felt the familiar warmth swirling around her fingers and released it to do her bidding. She was thwarted, though, because it did nothing but tickle Caspian. In fact, her power made him giggle. At least, she thought he gave a giggle. He flinched, and small sounds came out of his throat unlike those of a man in pain.
It was a delicious sensation, rubbing against her clit in just the right way. She was just preparing to cast another spell when she heard a knock on her door. Great, just what she needed. Well, no way in hell she was going to answer.
“Grace?” Petru called, slamming his big fists on the door.
Oh, fantastic. Just when she was thinking her day couldn’t possibly get any more complicated. But maybe she could convince Petru that she wasn’t home. At least, she thought she had a chance before Caspian made a really loud sound like a startled pig. The Russian outside just started pounding harder.
“This isn’t really a good time, Petru.”
“Just open the door so I can see that you’re okay.”
He would choose today to grow a sense of chivalry. “I’m fine, really. I’ve got company, and we’re . . . busy.”
“Who is it?” Petru demanded.
“Mind your business,” she called.
“You
are
my business, Grace. Sasha is busy, so I came to check on you. I won’t leave until I see you’re okay.”
She tried to use her magick to open the door just a crack, but her spells weren’t working. Whatever had zapped Caspian’s power had zapped hers, too. This was turning out to be the perfect hemorrhoid on a big, fat hairy ass of a day.
“Petru, if you could please just come back later? My door can’t handle any more of your visits.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he sent the door flying off its beleaguered hinges with a well-placed kick and shoved his gargantuan frame through the newly made opening. It was barely big enough for him. So, for the second time in recent memory, Petru could see more of her flapping in the breeze than she wished. She didn’t know whether to be insulted or flattered that he turned away.
His large jaw was flapping up and down like a seagull skimming the water for breakfast. “What the iced blue fuck . . .” He trailed off, clearly at a loss.
“He’s stuck.” Grace crinkled her toes up with every syllable. “We’re not sure what to do.”
“You can’t just ...?” Petru waved his hands in the air.
“Caspian, I now understand,” Grace said, remembering their earlier conversation about why he couldn’t just use his magick to fix his banished hair color. “Yes, that’s extremely annoying.”
She exhaled heavily. “No, Petru. I can’t ‘just . . .’ ” She didn’t bother to wave her arms. He knew what she meant.
“Why not?”
“It’s like a magickal flu or something.”
Petru shook his head and eyed the table. “Did you get the peanut noodles?”
More talk of peanuts! Yes, that could be what was wrong with Caspian, but what would it have to do with her magick? She didn’t have a swollen tongue. She’d never had a peanut allergy in her life. “Yeah, so?”
“He’s obviously allergic,” Petru said, as if she were the dumbest of creatures—which was really ironic, considering his own placement on the brainpower pyramid. “So are most demons after spending too long topside.”
Grace was taken aback. “And how do you know this?”
Petru dropped his voice an octave, as if he were sharing a great secret. “Everyone knows that, Grace.”
“How come I can’t use my magick?”
“I don’t know.” Petru shrugged. “It seems like you’re stuck.”
Caspian had lain serenely while they talked, but he was starting to struggle again.

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