A Demon's Guide to Wooing a Witch （Glimmer Falls, #2(84)

The sky opened up and fat raindrops came pounding down, stinging her skin. Calladia sat upright with a laugh, and when she wobbled and would have collapsed again, Astaroth steadied her.

“Rain,” was all she managed to say, and she giggled at the absurdity. Of course he knew it was raining. She laughed again, high on endorphins, and Astaroth grinned back.

The rain beat a tattoo against the rock, and where it struck the pond, small jets of water exploded up from the displacement. “Should we make a run for it?” Astaroth asked, wiping drops off his face.

Calladia staggered to her feet, then reached down to help him out of the pool. He accepted the gesture, though he didn’t let her bear much of his weight. She ran her eyes up and down his nearly naked body admiringly. His cock jutted out against the fabric of his underwear, thick and long, and she couldn’t wait to get her mouth on it.

Astaroth shivered.

Right. Demon. If she thought the night was chilly, he was probably freezing now that he was out of the hot water. She hurried to grab her backpack and phone—which had landed in a nearby bush—though the bra and underwear she left behind, figuring they’d get musty if she packed them up while still wet. She’d get them in the morning.

“Come on,” she said, casting him her version of a rakish grin. “I’ll race you to the tent.”

TWENTY-FIVE

Astaroth was soaking wet and clammy with cold by the time they made it back to the tent, but he couldn’t care less. His heart raced with excitement, and his cheeks hurt from how wide he was smiling. It turned out losing a footrace wasn’t so bad if the consolation prize was getting to watch Calladia’s bare arse and strong legs leave him in the dust.

Dear Lucifer, her taste. It lingered on his tongue, an addictive mix of musky, tangy, and sweet. He would feast on her every chance she gave him.

The glow orbs she’d summoned had followed, casting golden light over her curves as she bent to unzip the tent. Every centimeter of her was perfect, from her plump pussy lips to the tangle of light brown hair covering her mound. He palmed his cock through his underwear, wondering if she’d let him go down on her again straight away or if she was sensitive enough to need a break.

She didn’t straighten immediately, instead looking over her shoulder with a wink and a waggle of her hips. “Leering, old man?”

“Yes,” he said with no shame.

She chuckled and ducked into the tent, and the summoned lights followed. Her silhouette danced across the tent fabric as she dropped to her knees, then crawled onto her sleeping bag. “Come on, then,” she called from inside.

Astaroth didn’t need to be told twice. He followed her in, pausing to wipe his feet on the towel she’d set at the entrance. His feet were cold and tender from running over bare ground, but he would have chased her for hours.

Calladia sat cross-legged on her sleeping bag, twisting her hair into a wet bun. Then she pulled a piece of yarn out of her pack and started weaving. “Ayorva en aerquí,” she said. The air inside the tent instantly warmed.

Astaroth sighed in relief as he finished zipping the tent shut. “Thanks.”

“Can’t let the delicate demon freeze to death.” She handed him a towel to pat himself dry, then leaned back, bracing herself on her arms. The maneuver had the happy effect of pushing her breasts up and out. They were perky, with puffy pink nipples, and a faint constellation of moles dotted the side of her right breast. He wanted to map every mark on her body with his tongue.

“You look like you’ve never seen boobs before,” Calladia said.

“Correction,” he said, hunching to avoid stabbing holes in the canvas with his horns. The lights swirled around him before settling into place at the peaked top of the tent. “I’ve never seen your boobs before.”

Amusement glimmered in her eyes. “Surely after six centuries they all look the same.”

“Absolutely not.” Astaroth loved breasts—and bodies—of all sizes and shapes, but he had to admit this pair had a stunning feature that set them leagues beyond any others. They belonged to Calladia. “I can confidently say this is the best pair of breasts in the universe. And if they were smaller or bigger or you only had one or none at all, it would be just as perfect.”

She wrinkled her nose. “How’s that?”

“Because you, Calladia, are perfect. Is your body a certified wonder that drives me wild with lust? Absolutely.” He lightly tapped the side of her head. “But what’s in here matters most.”

Her eyes softened, and she shifted, unthreading her crossed legs. She drew her knees up and spread her thighs, revealing her glistening pink center. “And what’s up in my head that’s so arousing?” she asked. “Is it the pigheaded obstinacy or the inclination to violence?”

“Both.”

“Hey!” She slapped his shoulder, though she was laughing. “You’re not supposed to agree.”

“I like obstinate, pigheaded brawlers,” he said. “I think you like being one, too.”

She grinned. “Maybe.”

“Isn’t that fortunate for us?” Astaroth returned her smile, enjoying how her breath hitched. His gaze dropped to her pussy. “Are you ready for me to go down on you again?”

“Again?” Her eyebrows soared. “Don’t you want me to give you a blow job instead?”