Demon's Mark: The Complete Series

by Nora Ash

  “Keep your eyes closed, sweetheart. Keep feeling me.”

  Selma obeyed; it was so easy to obey his hypnotic voice when he touched her like this. His kneading palms were burning hot against her skin, but instead of hurting, they melted any and all resistance. It should have hurt, she was certain. He was so hot—so inhumanly scalding, much more than he had been the day before. In fact, he’d become increasingly warmer to the touch as the session had progressed.

  Something in that thought made her muted conscience, the one she’d purposely tried to shut out ever since entering the room, fight back. Something wasn’t right.

  Her eyelids flickered open once more.

  “Close your eyes, Selma.” It was a dark command; determination wrapped in seduction.

  But she saw it, this time. The dark shadows that filtered over her body in swirling patterns from where he was touching her.

  “You’re using magic.” It should have sparked more fear than it did, but as she saw the dark shadows shift over her, she couldn’t find a drop of concern within her. Just calm acceptance. He was using it on her. “Why?”

  “I told you; I want you to relax. Fully. I cannot sway your mind like a regular human, but with my touch I can help your senses find peace.” The deep massage turned to gentle strokes up and down her inner thighs, ending just before the crease that marked the start of her flushed sex.

  “I am very relaxed,” she said, spreading her thighs further in automatic invitation at his nearness. “You don’t have to drug me.”

  A heated kiss brushed against her left thigh, right next to her lower lips, and an excited jolt cut through the calm just as the the shadows shifted and disappeared. “I see.”

  She would have said more, though she didn’t know what, because just then his mouth found its way to her pussy, and all thought halted.

  “I wanted to taste you so badly when I had you in the chair, my sweet,” he murmured, breathing his words into her slick heat while his lips danced over her sensitive skin. “Your scent drives me mad.”

  A deep breath filled his lungs with her feminine aroma, and he groaned low in his throat. And then his tongue flicked out, teasing its way up her dripping slit until it found the pearl up top.

  “Go-ngh!” Selma managed to catch herself before she uttered the word that would end his kindness, grabbing the edges of the desk hard instead. He dove right in, not giving her more than a few courteous licks for warm up before his tongue went deep and his lips closed around her already erect clit.

  The spell he’d woven with his hands was gone, but it had done its job—her body was too relaxed to fight against the sudden onslaught, and he drew her pleasure out with skilled precision. He suckled her so deeply there, at her most intimate place, that she lost any coherent thoughts and all that remained was a bundle of reflexes and instincts bucking and squirming for the demon who’d taken over her body.

  When he forced three fingers into her quaking channel it barely registered as anything but delicious pressure against her screaming nerves... until he started thrusting them into her.

  With a yowl she arched up, clutching at his hair to keep his lips around her clit as the burn of orgasm ricocheted up from her clamping core to her brain where it exploded in near-painful shocks.

  Only when she collapsed back down, legs flopping open from where she’d inadvertently wound them around his neck while he brought her over did he stop the intense stimulation. His head popped into her field of vision sporting a decidedly self-satisfied smirk.

  “You taste even better than you smell, little Breeder,” he purred, placing a few lazy kisses to her stomach, before his lips started traveling lower again. “And you scream so deliciously when I make you come. Want another?”

  Selma groaned. Her body was still quaking from aftershocks and her clit so hypersensitive she shuddered when his breath brushed over it.

  “No more. Please.” She let her hands find his hair and laced her fingers in it to ensure that he didn’t start again. “I can’t.”

  Marathín lifted back up, his abs flexing as he leaned over her while his hands rested next to her shoulders, caging her in. “Oh?” The smirk turned somewhat darker on his handsome face. “No more foreplay? Does that mean you’re ready to be spread open on my cock, sweetheart?”

  She wasn’t entirely sure, but she nodded silently anyway, allowing her thighs to bracket his hips when he moved to rest between them. The bulge behind his pants was hard and insistent as it pressed against her wet slit, but she could feel moisture drip from her pussy and knew more of his skillful and unrelenting touch to her tender clit would only cause her muscles to tire before he mounted her.

  “That’s right,” he breathed, before bending his head for her mouth and placing a soft kiss on her parted lips. “You need to feel me move within you, don’t you? Feel me taking your body while I make you mine.” Lifting one hand off the table and resting easily on the other he moved it down to his pants. Rustling indicated the opening and removal of them.

  So this was it. There was an odd lack of panic at the prospect of finally having to take him; somewhere during the magical and physical manipulation of her mind and body the fear must have been buried by pleasure and lethargy.

  The demon shifted again to stand up between her legs. He grabbed her by the hips and aligned her sex with his, mumbling soothingly as if she was resisting his grip though she let him arrange her body as he pleased with no protest; this was something that needed to happen, and he had managed to prepare her body beyond what she could have ever hoped for. Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes and relaxed against the surface of the desk, allowing her thighs to splay wide open.

  “Good girl,” she heard him whisper, and then something warm, hard and thick pressed against her wet core.

  At first, it felt good, and Selma moaned appreciatively, lifting her hips in an instinctive attempt at aiding the penetration. As a result, the broad cock pushing at her entrance met tight muscles, the unexpected resistance causing a twinge of pain.

  With it, the fog lifted.

  Her eyes flew up as she whined and clenched her hands around the edges of the table. Oh god, this is it... He was going to force her open and she had to let him. Please, please let it be painless.

  The soaking state of her flushed sex let him push the tip of his wide cock into her before her muscles resisted again, and he paused when she whimpered.

  “Shh, you’re doing so well, Sweetheart.” His free hand came up and stroked her thigh soothingly before lowering to the top of her sex where it brushed her clit ever so lightly. “I will make you feel so good; just let me in now. You remember how it feels when I am inside of you, don’t you? How fully I stretch you?”

  Some wanton part of her seemed to remember, and her pussy shuddered in response, which made a dark smile appear on his handsome face.

  “Yes, just like that. Think about the pleasure.” He waited until she’d calmed her body once more before putting a bit more force behind his hips, pressing the large head into her with a wet pop.

  An instant shriek forced its way out her throat when she felt the ridges enter her; they dug into her resisting channel, forced deep into her soft flesh by the mass of his cock, and caused tendrils of pain to shoot through her tissues as her pussy clenched defensively around him.

  “Ow!” The attempt to push him away and out of her was reflexive, but her hands met no give when they impacted with his rock-hard abs, pushing futilely. “No! Stop!”

  The command was unnecessary, because Marathín paused as soon as he was inside, shushing her whimpers while keeping her hips locked in an iron grip, halting her attempts at squirming away from him.

  Panic fluttered in her stomach when her attempts at freeing herself failed, but his deep voice cut through the mounting anxiety before it could sweep her away.

  “Calm down, sweetheart. When you relax it will stop hurting, I promise. Shh, that’s it, good girl. Just relax,” he mumbled, the hands on her hips squeezing comf
ortingly.

  Breathing deeply, Selma tried relaxing her lower body. The sound of his velvety voice pulling on the instincts that had made her sex flushed and wet for him helped significantly, and within a few moments her pussy settled down, accepting the shallow intrusion and easing its hold on him.

  Marathín smiled at her deep, shaky breath of relief when his ridges no longer dug painfully into her flesh. “Much better, my beautiful. Ready for a bit more?

  Selma nodded, biting on her lip to not cry out again. She needed to do this, she needed to take his cock and—

  “Oh!” This time, the jolt that rocked her body was not from pain.

  Her eyes popped wide open as the ridges ground over her g-spot and shocks of pleasure made her pussy spasm, causing the bumps to dig in deeper and the sensation to intensify. However, instead of giving her time to adjust as he had before, Marathín let go of her hips and pushed a thumb to her clit, pressing circular motions into the sensitive bud.

  The dual stimulation of her pussy made her eyes roll back in her head, and she was vaguely aware that her body arched up for more on its own accord, inviting him deeper as if the previous pain was nothing to worry about. Mainly her focus was on how incredibly good his searing flesh felt when it spread her open and rubbed her in just the right way. Pulsing contractions and pleasure burned through her from where he was touching her, making her entire body shake and cramp with need for more, more, more.

  “More!” Her whimpered plea was not entirely conscious, but it was obeyed. Immediately. He thrust in fully, filling her to the brim with pained bliss as his mass forced her wide to her very core.

  Selma screamed, her body seizing up in protest, but before she could do much more he’d withdrawn again, pulling the ridges over her g-spot in maddening torment, and when she sobbed with ecstasy he drove back in, spearing her with hellish pleasure once more. And all the while his thumb circled her clit, making her pussy cramp and spasm around the intrusion, drawing cries and moans from her in equal measure.

  The demon didn’t pause again, thrusting deeply, but slowly, into her over and over, forcing her to accept the full length of his inhuman cock and the gruesome pleasure it brought her. There was some pain, underneath it all, but it only seemed to fuel her desire.

  Gasping through his thrusts she clutched at his shoulders and brought her legs up so she could wrap them around his waist, surrendering completely to the man who knew exactly how she needed to be taken.

  “Selma.” It was a grunt somewhere above her but she didn’t open her eyes to look; simply clutched at the center of her universe, at the being that controlled her mind and body so fully.

  “Selma,” he repeated, feral darkness lacing his deep voice. “I need... more. More of you.”

  How could he possibly take more? She felt his powerful body move under her hands and legs, sensed the muscles in his back working as he pumped her deeply and unrelentingly, those damned ridges working her g-spot for every stroke. He was driving her towards insanity with the raw sensations firing from her stuffed pussy to her over-worked mind, though the craze was so different from yesterday. Then, her lust-filled mind had demanded he please her, demanded that she offer her pussy to the demon who’d stoked her desires, whereas this time... this time he had demanded her body’s submission, and the lack of the mark’s influence left her to take his inhuman cock with no magic to ease his thrusts. She was barely holding on as it was, and he asked for more?

  “Harder,” Marathín murmured, as if he could sense her confusion. “I need you harder, more. Tell me you can take me, my sweet. Tell me you want it. I need you!”

  Selma’s eyes popped open, even as she dug her teeth into her lower lip to stop from crying out when he rubbed over her g-spot once more. Despite the urgent plea and his hoarse, restrained gasps of breath he kept the pace slow, working his cock in and out of her as gently as he could.

  “Harder?” she whimpered. Some part of her knew she’d give him exactly what he wanted; that she wouldn’t—couldn’t—deny him, but despite the bone-deep pleasure and her mind’s surrender to his complete control she was aware enough to realize that ‘harder’ meant—

  “Oh! Oh!” Her mouth formed a wide O around the high-pitched outbursts when the demon snapped his hips hard and repeatedly against hers without warning, growling in relief as he let his body fall into its natural, uninhibited rhythm. Too lost in the mating high to take her question for anything other than acceptance.

  Selma tensed underneath him, her body bracing against the brutality as each and every thrust pummeled her pussy over and over, too deeply and too roughly. It was too much; too hard... she screamed and dug her nails into his skin, trying to alleviate some of the horrifying pressure he forced into her, but it kept building, kept driving into her with as much force as a jackhammer, and there was nothing she could do but accept it.

  When the pressure in her finally quivering channel reached its peak she was wild with desperation, wild with need, her fingers making him growl for every scratch she clawed into his searing flesh and her teeth biting his shoulder bloody in between primal cries. The sudden and violent spasms marking her climax froze her attacks.

  Her body arched up from the table as she screamed her release out, the only thing making its way through the seizures to her conscience being his snarled, “Mine!” before she collapsed in blessed darkness.

  * * *

  When she came to it was to his hot breath wheezing out of his strong body deeply enough to make his sides flex. A distant part of her mind pondered that it probably had less to do with the kind of exhaustion currently jellifying her limbs, and more to do with the shockwaves of hormones undoubtedly ramping up his possessive urges to new heights, if the guttural declaration of ownership during their shared climax was any indicator.

  She couldn’t have been out for longer than a few seconds, given his heaving torso and still-pounding heartbeat, but he must have come with her seeing as he was still on top of her and the pressure between her legs seemed to be slowly fading.

  Had she ever known sensations so intense they could make her black out?

  Sluggishly, she twisted her neck so she could breathe in more of the dually heady and soothing scent from his skin, pressing a soft kiss to the bulging bicep caging her in in a protective little bubble. He was all around—and inside—her, shielding her from the world and its horrors with his own flesh and bones. In that moment, blissed-out on the mating high, it was not difficult to find pleasure in the thought of being his to care for.

  The big male raised half up off her, resting on his arms so he could look into her eyes without pulling out. The hot burn in the amber depths had lost the fire that made her pussy ache with need, but what she saw there made her stomach knot in an odd mix of exhilaration and anxiety. Though he had blinded her to his otherness, what flamed behind that mask of humanity was so far from human that even her mark could not fool her; it was feral and wild, and far more dangerous than she could fully comprehend, yet within the terror was something else. Something, which spoke so fiercely of protection and devotion that though she should have cowered with fear, a rush of power spiked through her blood instead at the sight. This dark creature’s strength belonged to her.

  “I claim you.” His voice was thick and raw as he shifted his weight to one arm, lifting the other so he could cover her lower belly with an oversized hand. “I will breed you; I will Master you. You are mine.”

  Staring up at him, Selma placed her own, shaking hand on top of his. Despite the weight of his words her heart beat with odd excitement. “I am yours,” she confirmed.

  Hot lips met hers, and she hummed against them, removing her hand from his so she could wrap both arms around the back of his neck.

  “My little Breeder,” he whispered, when he pulled back a moment later, only to rest his forehead against hers.

  She half expected him to continue, but the follow-up was not verbal; she tensed when his spent cock began to harden in her again, pushing at he
r swollen channel and digging the ridges into tissue too tender to enjoy the pressure. Some of the pleasurable lethargy caused by the climaxes vanished from her mind and body as the thought of enduring another coupling made her aware of every aching part of her battered body.

  “Marathín …” Selma flinched and fidgeted, trying to squirm away from the hips keeping her trapped against the desk and unable to escape the increasingly uncomfortable penetration. “Please, I can’t do it again—it hurts too much.”

  A low growl rumbled through his chest. “Be calm; I will not mate you again before you have recovered.” Lifting up once more he gently eased his way out, pausing every time she whimpered, hushing her until she settled down again before he continued the slow process, until finally she was released from the painful tension.

  Moaning with relief, she tried curling up on herself to let her body settle and calm, but the demon knelt by the end of the desk, grabbing her knees in strong hands and spreading her reluctant thighs wide again, her heels resting against the end of the desk.

  “I am just doing a quick examination,” he mumbled at her whining protests, eyes and hands sliding to her center as the commanding doctor once again took over his features, replacing the possessive lover for the moment being. “I need to make certain that you did not sustain any injuries. Relax for me, my sweet. It will be over soon.”

  Selma bit her lip and resisted the urge to shove him from her tender flesh, her muscles being too lax to put up much of a fight anyway. Thankfully, his fingers were excruciatingly gentle as they brushed over her flushed lips, and he only dipped a single finger shallowly into her abused cleft in search for damaged tissues. She was sore, but his tender examination caused her no pain.

  She watched him work from under half lidded eyes; he truly was a magnificent looking part of the male population, with powerful muscles cording his lean body in a way that suggested that even without his superhuman origin he would have been in possession of lethal strength. That thought made her wonder if his true naked form looked different than what she was seeing now; before, when she had seen his true self, she hadn’t exactly had the chance to explore his body.