A Discovery of Demonology (Witchery Hollows Book 1)

by Amelia Hutchins

Dark, silky-smooth hair framed an arrogant face. A proud nose sat between finely chiseled cheekbones, which whispered of aristocratic lineage. The dusting of a five o’clock shadow kissed his jawline, and his full, lush lips promised to deliver every filthy fantasy I’d ever held in my dreams. He was taller than me by a good foot, and he wore a crisp, clean dress shirt that did little to conceal the sinewy muscles hidden beneath the thin fabric. The shirt was unbuttoned at the collar revealing ink beneath it. More was revealed from the sleeves rolled up on his forearms to expose dark, sexy ink that began on both wrists.

His fingers pinched the strands of my icy-blonde hair as if he were testing the texture of it before drawing it to his nose, inhaling deeply. Those unsettling eyes held mine prisoner as he released it, even as his lips twisted into a dangerous smile.

His presence was primal, despotic, and predacious. As if he could bend me over the hood, and I’d be the one pleading for him to devour me whole.

“I never claimed to be a gentleman. Did I? Because I assure you, it would be a preposterous lie.”

“You don’t want to make me your enemy. You wouldn’t survive me. I wouldn’t grant you any mercy, darling.”

“I didn’t, but I can’t say I’m shocked that Rena named you Moira Darling Bishop. That girl always had an unhealthy obsession with Peter Pan.”

“Get in my car. It’s late, and there are ravenous beasts prowling these woods. And you? You look fucking delicious enough to eat.”

“I’m a grown-ass woman, one who isn’t afraid of her overcharged libido or sexuality.”

What the hell was I doing? There was nothing I wanted more right at this moment, then to be bent over the hood of his car, and railed until I howled at the moon like a bitch in heat.

If sex had a voice, it would be whispered words in the same primal, masculine noise he’d just made. Wickedly dark promises of filthy intentions that would devour you as it railed your naked body into a pile of sated bliss.

“Be honest with me, Bishop. Would you let me bend your lithe body over the hood, then fuck your needy cunt while those titties are cleaning the bug guts from my grill?”

“If you ever touch me again in anger, it better be because we’re about to fuck. Do you understand me?”

“Pomegranate and white lotus petals, correct? Just a few petals mixed with the forbidden fruit on a Bishop’s flesh is enough to make the devil notice. I assure you of this: he’s taken notice of you, Moira.”

Hell’s empty, and all the devils are here to play. Shakespeare may have been preemptive, but he wasn’t wrong.”

“You do know that beauty wanes? You’ve got to catch a man when you’re young and nail him down. Can’t steal his breath or his soul if you’re too old to chase after the fella.”

The prick hadn’t given me butterflies. He’d made me feel the entire zoo battling against my insides, while outright choking the air from my lungs.

I read much filthier things since leaving home. Stories that were so much darker and so much more depraved that reading even the most scandalous scene in that book wouldn’t likely be enough to make my vagina pulse. I was unscrupulously wicked, but I fucking loved it and wasn’t ashamed of being so. Sexuality was subjective to the person enjoying it, and I didn’t care what others thought of my proclivities.

I’d never been attracted to a woman as strongly as I’d been to Moira. It wasn’t her beauty that caught my attention, even though she was breathtakingly beautiful. It was something else, and the pull to her was alarming. I wasn’t a nice guy, and I had no intention of becoming one either.

I had a date with my little witch in the dreamscape I’d created for her while waiting for her to seek out her bed. Dreams were the one place that couldn’t be warded against entrance. Not even Satan could prevent me from entering his. It was my playground. And I intended to play with the imp, immensely.

“Is there a reason you’re wearing sweatpants? Or did someone let you in on the obsession women have with them?”

“You look good with clothes on, Bishop. But you’d look better with those panties around your ankles and those pouty lips around my cock.”

“And if you came across a monster, what would you do? Would you invite it to taste your sweetness, or would you scream and run home like a little bitch?”

“You are so fucking delicate and deliciously naïve.”

“If you wish to taste me, Teivel, do so. Don’t ask permission when we both want you to do more,” I whispered huskily as my tongue darted out to wet my lips.

He murmured elegant words of deviant filth, loaded with depravity that painted the lewd images of him defiling my body.

“Fucking hell, I want to control you, command you, dominate you, and use you until you’re too fucking exhausted to even breathe. Be a good girl and ask me to taste your pouty lips. Let me taste your pretty pink flesh until you’re a dripping, sobbing disaster, making a mess all over my face. Don’t make me ask you again,”

“Is your pussy wet for me? Answer me.” The dominance trembling in his tone had me wishing he’d turn my throat into a fucking daycare.

The one thing I was certain of was that he had a full Jacob’s ladder, but that wasn’t the wildest thing inside his sweatpants.

“When I catch you, which do you intend to take me as? Man, or beast? I assure you that there’s very little difference between them anymore.”

Closing my eyes, I dropped my head back to the mattress and waited for the Vagina-Annihilator 2000 to destroy my poor pussy. I was certain it wouldn’t be the same when he’d finished sinking his cock to the hilt inside of me. That dick was a game-changer, and no way was it not going to hurt fitting it all in.

“Such lovely, pink flesh you offer to me, Moira Darling.”

“You taste like sin, but your tight cunt promises me heaven. Is that your plan? To take me to church and try to redeem my soul? Just so you’re aware, I’d rather turn you into a sinner and drink from your holy grail, sweet Moira.”

“Fuck no. I vote you make me a sinner and let me taste the flames of your hell.”

But honestly, if a bitch had to die, I preferred to go out being fucked brutally so I could prance into Heaven and tell them I got dicked to death. Wait, would I end up in Heaven if I let a demon fuck me six ways to Sunday?

“Relax for me, Moira Darling. You’re being such a good girl, taking my cock into your tight, needy cunt.”

Did his dick just pull a Mighty-Morphin-Power-Ranger change inside my vagina? What the hell was caressing, pulsing, and licking my walls from within my pussy?

“Good girl, you naughty little slut. You’re taking all of me,” he crooned. “Your pussy’s milking me so fucking nicely. Such a pretty thing coming for me like a ravenous little imp.”

“See? She’s lovely in every way that matters. I think she’d make an enchanting addition to my collection. Moira Darling’s body was a feast I gorged gluttonously on.”