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Before she killed her rapist, she wanted him to suffer worse than he’d made her suffer, while she went on to live and thrive for the rest of her natural life. It would be the perfect conclusion to her perfect revenge.
She was six feet tall, and she was deliciously fat. It was a rare sight to find anyone bigger than her.
Large, pretty drooping breasts with wide, dark areolas; big, curvy hips; a soft, rounded belly; and thick, luscious thighs with a thatch of curly dark hair at the apex.
Then again, they were tall, dark, and handsome, and something about those fucking horns and those magnificent wings and that forked fucking tongue were really doing it for her, who’d have thought.
“I acknowledge your explanation, but I refuse to understand it.”
the focus on her plot for revenge. Malachi didn’t think he’d ever tasted anything more fucking delicious. Except maybe her blood.
Drinking human blood was frowned upon, even strictly forbidden in most sects;
But based on the little of Joy’s blood he’d tasted, that description could not compare. It had felt like taking a shot of pure euphoria;
The matter-of-fact way she’d spoken of her revenge had made Malachi’s lust worsen, had had him stiffening underneath his robes, his mouth flooding with saliva.
“You look … edible,” Malachi said, his voice hoarse. She blushed, the scent and sight of it making him feel weak in the knees. Dangerous, his subconscious whispered. Demons had gone mad for less.
She didn’t seem to know demons could also feed on human emotion; everything she gave off, instead of making him feel full, had him nearly frantic for more. Taking the little bit of her blood as he’d done earlier had only made his hunger worse.
Almighty, he wanted to feast on her, in every way imaginable.
Malachi really, really wanted to get on his knees. He wanted to take her back to her bedroom, lay her down on her bed, and feast on her cunt until she came—again and again until she couldn’t come anymore.
Even now, she couldn’t believe she’d thought going back there—seeing his face every fucking day and acting like she wasn’t bothered would mean she was strong.
She didn’t want to be strong anymore. She wanted to be hurt. She wanted to be fucking furious.
I know, despite whatever had made me act that way, you might still need time.”
Demons weren’t meant to stay permanently in the human world, but could do so in one of two ways: using the bond formed from a contract as a tether, or owning a human’s soul.
Almighty, he’d barely spent one day in Joy’s company and already felt reluctant to be on his own again. Fucking dangerous.
Fuck, Malachi had been wrong. If her bloodthirst tasted divine, then it was nothing on her happiness.
“I hope you’re ready, demon boy.” His lips twitched. “Whenever you are, little tiger.”
“Fuck me,” she said frantically, “put your fucking mouth on me—” Get his fucking touch off my skin. “Yes,” Malachi said worshipfully, sinking to his knees.
“Joy.” Her name sounded loud, sweet like honey in the darkness. “Will you let me see?” H-holy shit.
Hunting him and then killing him was going to give Joy satisfaction; it was going to give her back a semblance of peace and happiness, and a little bit of healing. But tonight, Joy was going to take back her body.
“Fucking Almighty.” Malachi groaned, sounding awed and painfully aroused in equal measure.
he hadn’t moved from his position at the foot of her bed. “Good boy.” It was meant to be teasing, but it made Malachi jolt, his wings flaring.
Fuck, he looked so fucking debauched. Joy trembled with satisfaction. She’d made him look like that, all without once touching him.
he’d felt downright honoured she’d let him witness her reclaiming her pleasure.
“Joy,” he said, waiting until she met his eyes. “Trust me when I say this: I have never in my life felt more full.”
Every inch of him was hard and firm—practically made for snuggling. Or humping.
“I know.” She didn’t look away. Her hand squeezed his. He squeezed back. Fuck, fuck, he couldn’t breathe. “I am here.” “I know.” “I won’t let anything hurt you.” It was a promise, heavy with the threat of violence. Joy trembled. “I know.” His heart was about to race right out of his chest.
“No one has touched you like this?” she asked in genuine surprise, like Malachi had people lining up who wanted to sweetly explore him like this; without any attachments, just for the simple pleasure of feeling him.
“Just me?” Her scent went smoky, her voice husky with something that seemed almost possessive. Malachi swallowed a sound. Fuck, he really liked the thought of that. He would very much like to be owned by Joy. “Just you,” he whispered.
Their contract couldn’t end—not yet. He wanted—Almighty, he’d never wanted so much. Just another day. Another week.
her expression and her scent doing serious things to Malachi’s libido.
Some part of her had thought maybe she’d feel remorse—maybe she’d feel disgust after she was done. Maybe killing him wouldn’t make her feel better, after all. She was wrong on all counts. Her blood was practically singing. She felt a sheer sense of joy and peace; she felt fucking high.
“Sweet, murderous Joy,” he whispered huskily. “Allow me to worship you.” It felt like liberation—it felt like the most exquisite kind of release when she said, “Yes.”
“You smell so fucking good. Taste so fucking good.” “Fuck.” Joy sighed, her brain still a pile of mush. “Can you come again?” “Fuck.” Joy’s cunt clenched. “That’s not a no.”
“Do it, Malachi.” She wanted him to fill her right fucking now—so much she couldn’t think. “Fuck me, fuck me—”
“Fuck.” He had to take a moment to get used to the feel of her tight little cunt absolutely throttling the fuck out of his dick. “Uhn. Almighty. Fuck. Fuck.” He rolled his hips, shaky and desperate, the slick, clenching grip of her pussy like nothing he’d ever felt.
Malachi bit his lower lip viciously. She was just fucking taking it—letting out these sweet little sounds with each harsh slap of his hips.
Malachi laughed again. God, her scent when he laughed. He reached out, and she easily tangled their fingers together, the action ruining him completely.
And the Regular Show! Ah!” Malachi had to bite the inside of his cheek. Holy shit she was so fucking cute he couldn’t stand it.
“Take me to your garden,” she demanded. Fuck. Was Malachi falling in love? Was this what it felt like? Every time she looked at him, it felt like all his organs were taking a tumble; like someone was squeezing his heart at the same time that the organ was inflating like an air balloon behind his ribs.
her lips curled into a happy smirk. “Show off,” she teased, and Malachi’s heartbeat did something complicated.
Why did that look—that scent, despite its underlying heat—feel like a goodbye? His chest twisted painfully at the thought.
her thick lashes and full lips, all that gorgeous, deep brown skin; every dip and curve of her sexy, fat frame.
“How do you want me?” he whispered huskily.
“Fuck, stop—stop—I’m going to come,” he cried. Joy groaned, pulling off his dick with a lewd slurp. “Already?” she teased, feeling so high on the power she could fly with it. “Please. Please.”
“No hands,” she said roughly, locking her eyes with his. His body jerked slightly. “Almighty. Fuck. Okay.”
“Ask nicely,” she panted. “Please,” Malachi said immediately. “Please, let me make you come.”
