Fashionably Dead Down Under(86)

We surged closer to crawling inside of each other than we ever had. He put his weight on one hand and skimmed my face, my breasts and hip with his other. He slid in and out and I raised my hips to meet his thrusts as the pressure built. His mouth came down on mine, hard and possessive. I bit at his lips as his body grew larger within me. The slow gentle lovemaking was over, but the ferociousness of our love and desire remained.
His inhuman beauty and strength sent my core into liquid meltdown and I writhed beneath him, unable to think or hold any part of myself back. His eyes never left mine and I struggled to keep mine open. The vulnerability was terrifying and raw. My insides danced and contracted around his girth and the sounds he made went straight to my most engorged and sensitive spots, unleashing a wild woman inside me that I gave to him freely—willingly and with every inch of my being.
I screamed as the orgasm hit. My eyes stayed open and I watch the explosion of pleasure rip across his beautiful features. With his fangs bared and his eyes hooded he came as hard as I did. I was more frightened and more satisfied that I’d even known I could be. The aftershocks of my climax continued to wrack my body as his mouth descended to my neck. My exhausted body reawoke as his fangs grazed the soft skin. The aftershocks turned into the feeling of a massive orgasm about to burst.
“I’m not sure I can . . . ”
“You can,” he muttered into my neck gruffly. “You will. I will take you there.”
He grew rigid inside me and all of my nerve endings jumped to attention with need. My fangs dropped and we bit each other at the same time. I was sure this would end me. The sheer passion that tore through me was more extreme and acute than I’d experienced. Colors ripped across my vision and I cried out against his neck. The frenzied exchange of blood, lust and pure love sent me to heights that would have destroyed a mortal.
As I floated down I heard his chuckle of pure masculine satisfaction and it made me smile.
I was so fucking glad I was already dead . . . because that would have killed me for sure.

Chapter 28
Holy shit, Carl had the hairiest back I’d ever seen.
“It looks like a fur rug,” I whispered to Ethan.
“I’d have to agree,” he muttered as he led us to seats beside the mats.
The fight exhibition was in full swing before we’d arrived. Our tardiness was due to a quickie meeting with the General who promised to get my Baby Demons and bring them back to the palace. I was concerned about them . . . actually that was inaccurate. I was more concerned for the Demons they might come across. I had no desire to be prosecuted because they munched on the wrong person.
The fight training room was impressive, although seriously over the top. I should have expected no less, but the gross show of wealth constantly surprised me. Padded bleachers with backrests lined both sides of the huge room. Padding was an understatement—the seats were covered in buttery-soft caramel leather. And from the thirty foot ceiling hung four exquisite crystal drop chandeliers.
Satan had yet to arrive, but the demonstrations had already begun. Carl’s preparation for the next fight was doing his left and right leg splits . . . Janet and Myrtle stood by him and growled at anyone who dared to poke fun at Carl’s unusual warm up. He wore a tight, fitted yellow wrestling suit that should have been burned in the eighties and, of course, the hair blanket on his back.
I poked Ethan. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“He seems to be fine with himself,” Ethan observed. “If he’s smart he’ll use it to his advantage.”
“How in the world can a hairy back be an advantage?” I asked as I wracked my brain.
“Well, he could wear a cape and then reveal it at the last second, alarming his opponent and getting the upper hand. Or he could slick it back with a conditioner or gel so it would be impossible to take him from behind due to the slippage factor.”
“That’s either brilliant or just really weird,” I muttered, trying to figure out if he was screwing with me. I looked around the room and got a wonky feeling. “Ethan . . . um, I think we were set up.”
“I quite agree.”
Everyone in the room was dressed casually, but not us. We were dressed in the workout clothing that had been delivered to our suite by a very timid Demon named Norm. Did my uncle expect us to fight? He was in for a surprise. I had no desire to fight unless it was life or death. Fighting for fun was not on my agenda today.
“Do you feel something odd?” I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something was off.
“A dampening spell,” he replied as he scanned the crowd. “Satan meant business when he said this would be hand to hand. The dampening spell prohibits magic.”