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To everyone dreaming of vengeance.
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.
For a moment, she hesitated. The morally upright Christian she’d been raised to be protested: Isn’t death too harsh a punishment for a rapist? For any criminal, for that matter? But the other side of her—the side that clawed for justice—for vengeance—screamed: death is not enough.
The phrase “the darker the berry, the sweeter the juice” ran through Joy’s head before she could stop it, making her blush furiously.
She was six feet tall, and she was deliciously fat. It was a rare sight to find anyone bigger than her.
“You reek of bloodthirst,” the demon continued, flicking their tongue out to wet the seam of their lips. Their tongue was a shocking, violent red, and was also forked. Holy Mary and Joseph. “You have summoned me to kill someone for you.” Joy’s smile felt manic when she let her lips stretch with it. “No, I want to kill someone. I want you to make it look like an accident.”
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.
She was a tall, big woman—almost as big as Joy herself—and Joy had had more than one fantasy of being crushed between her thick thighs.
Your best friend was supposed to believe you immediately when you told them you’d been raped. Your best friend wasn’t supposed to ask what you’d done. They weren’t supposed to ask if you were sure.
She didn’t want to be strong anymore. She wanted to be hurt. She wanted to be fucking furious.
“Sweet, murderous Joy,” Malachi husked, his wings flaring, wanting to wrap around them both, like he could shelter them from the world. “You are exquisite.”
“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.
“Good boy.” It was meant to be teasing, but it made Malachi jolt, his wings flaring.
