Her Demon Prince (Forbidden Fantasy)

by Cathleen Ross

  "Trust me. I'm going to enjoy this." She tested the weight and feel of his cock, savoring its hardness as she clenched her stomach muscles. She’d come earlier and while it had seemed to clear her thoughts of lovemaking for a little while, she still wasn’t satisfied. Weighing his balls in her hand, she stroked her thumb over his sac. There was something about this man that made her want more of him than she'd ever wanted from a man.

  Agrat’s eyes widened.

  Taking her time, she ran her finger under the threaded skin underneath his balls and over the top. His sac was nice and heavy.

  Bending forward she licked the sweet-tasting pre-come off his cock, and slid the head of his penis in her mouth. He tasted great, making her want to savor every inch of this man’s body. Looking up she said, “I'm glad no one has ever done this to you before. I'm glad I'm the first one.”

  “You frighten me, Phoebe,” he said.

  She laughed.

  “Your eyes look different,” he said.

  “How so?”

  “Wicked,” he said. His whole body tensed and he didn’t take his gaze off her.

  “I have you in the palm of my hands. It's called possession. You don't have the monopoly on that.” In this blind moment, he was hers. All hers. She licked along the shaft of his cock and the head bobbed so that she took it in her mouth and ran her tongue along the rim. With delicate precision she flicked her tongue along the edge of his cock-head.

  Every cord of muscle banded on his body so that the veins in his neck popped and the extreme tension in his thighs made them bulge as she took him fully into her mouth. It amazed and thrilled her that such a strong warrior of a man could appear vulnerable and submissive when she had him between her lips.

  Agrat groaned.

  She increased her pace, tightening her lips around his cock. Working her head up and down.

  Every muscled ridge showed on Agrat’s stomach as he clearly remained on the knife’s edge of passion. Glancing upwards, she saw his eyes glow. It didn't scare her. A glow she could cope with. Agrat was all about desire and that was what she liked about him, because she was passionate herself. She took him deep until he touched the back of her throat.

  A deep groan left his throat as he came, shuddering and heaving his pleasure.

  When she released him, his whole body slumped against the shower wall as he fought to catch his breath. His face held a dazed expression that brought a smile of satisfaction to her lips.

  She opened her mouth and allowed the shower water to fill and rinse it, satisfied that she had left her mark on him, knowing that when a woman wants a man to come in her mouth, it's because he is hers.

  Phoebe took hold of his hand, placed the soap in it and faced the shower wall, bracing her hands against the wall. "Your turn to wash my back."

  He chuckled. A sound she'd never heard leave his lips before.

  The prince took the soap from her and made large circles on her back before his hand slipped around to soap her breasts. She felt him lean against her back, his cock brushing against her skin and realized she hadn't ever felt like this about any man.

  He was hers.

  Chapter 11

  Phoebe sat on the corner of the bed to dress marveling at just how comfortable she felt with Agrat, considering how little she knew him. She gathered up her jeans, belt and tee-shirt, deciding to go commando after washing her underwear and hanging them on the heated towel rail to dry. How long could she go without a change of clothes? One day, maybe. Two max. She'd have to find something else to wear so she could wash the clothes she was in.

  "Agrat, do you eat?" He lay on the bed near her, totally naked, his eyes hooded as he watched her slide into her jeans.

  "Come closer and you'll find out."

  Her stomach rumbled. "I mean food. Human food," she said, jumping up and dodging his hand as he grabbed for her to pull her back onto the bed.

  "I can eat, but I recharge faster using the energy of my ancestors. They feed me with everything I need. Earth keeps me grounded. Wind gives the ability to move from one place to another with stealth. Water is cooling and calming, though sometimes I commanded it to surround my enemies in a surprise attack. Fire is my weapon of choice and the easiest for me to command. I was told that my mother, in extreme anger, would become a wall of fire. All would flee before her."

  "I get that. I can cope when your eyes glow. Fire's scary. A wall of fire though? Eeep!"

  "Do not fear, I have never done it." He smiled. "In answer to your question, I do not require food, but my men used to enjoy it when I ate with them after battle. As for drinking, after a day on the battlefield, I enjoyed ale."

  "You and a whole lot of other guys," she said, her tone droll. "I've defrosted steak and packet vegetables. Do you think you would like to try some?"

  "I'd prefer a bolt of lightning."

  "You got that in the shower," she quipped. "You'll have to settle for steak now."

  He stood and walked over to her, the sharp angles of his face relaxed, his body oozing repletion. Just one glance down and she realized his satiation point wouldn't last long. He didn't seem to have an off button, but from a guy who ate lightning for dinner that didn't surprise her.

  She walked to the wardrobe, slid open the door and pulled out some clothes. "I've found these in the wardrobe for you. There's nothing in there for women unfortunately." She held out a pair of jeans, underpants that still had the label and a shirt. "There's a whole assortment of sizes in the wardrobe. I guess some informers don't bring a change of clothes. These are the biggest I could find. We have some basketball players in this country who are as tall as you."

  His lips turned up into a smile as he took the jeans and shirt from her. "You wish me to dress as a man of your time?"

  "If you plan to stay, you need to adopt our customs so you don't draw attention to yourself."

  He stared at her, his dark-eyed gaze intent. "It is my pledge upon my life to stay, love and protect you forever."

  Phoebe's hand moved to her heart and she could feel it pattering under her fingertips. "This is all so new, so very new." She knew her reply sounded on the edge of trite, but to say anything more was overwhelming. The thought that she could love this man was terrifying.

  Agrat took her in his arms. "Not new. Old, ancient love. What you feel for me is in your memory; in your cells. Do not fight what you feel. You are mine." His lips were on hers and she kissed him back, her body molding to his as if it knew what to do. His lips were firm with possession and she sank into the kiss, her tongue grazing his. It felt so right, so normal to be in his arms.

  She pulled away. "When I'm with you…it's like I'm mesmerized. Are you using your powers to seduce me?"

  "Would you like me to?"

  "No! I need to think clearly."

  "I'm not using them on you. It was always like this for us."

  Her heart was light and dancing from the kiss. "Try this on. I want to see what you would look like as a man from my time," she said, pointing to the shirt he was holding.

  He inserted his muscled arms into the shirt. "This garment will not serve well for war," he said, plucking at the thin fabric.

  "It's not for battle. It's for everyday dress." She paused, wondering whether to broach the subject on her mind. "Agrat, when I'm with you, you always smell so nice. How do you manage that? Don't you have to wash?"

  "When I dematerialize my cells go back to their original form, but I like to bathe. I had pools installed in my palace for the slaves to wash my garments, though on campaign I called my ancestors to lash my garments with rain. There were also large pools to bathe in at my palace, but there was nothing like the shower." He smiled, his teeth flashing white as he adjusted the shirt.

  She had a feeling he'd never forget his first shower. She handed him the underpants. "Step into them."

  He stared at the underpants, his brow quizzical, but did as she suggested. "You wish to contain me?"

  "That'd be like trying to control a volcano.
" She bit her lips to stop herself laughing as he shifted and pulled at the underwear. "Try dressing to the side."

  "Why?"

  "In our society, it's for modesty. Don't tell me you need help. One touch from me and the underwear won't fit." She watched him adjusting the underwear and shook her head. "Oh forget it. Take them off."

  She took the underwear back and handed him the jeans, glad they weren't skinny leg because they'd never fit over his bulging thighs.

  He slid them on and she stepped up to him, zipping up the fly and buttoning the top of his jeans. The jeans were tight and molded around his buttocks. "Heaven help the women of America if they see you like that. You'll be mobbed."

  "I am yours. Only yours," he said, his voice serious as he plucked the clinging denim from his hips. "And I do this to please you because to me it feels unnatural. I swear the palace eunuchs were contained in this way to take their manhood."

  Phoebe laughed. There was something heartwarming about his compliance and it made her wonder why she had been frightened of him in the first place when his formidable power had never been directed at her. She buttoned up the shirt and slid her hands around the back tucking it into the jeans while he stood patiently allowing her to attend to him. It was slightly tight across the front, pulling at his pectoral muscles and short in the arms, so she rolled up the sleeves to the elbow. With his long, dark hair he looked like a Milanese catwalk model on steroids. Darkly handsome. She fought the urge to run her hands down his shirt-front knowing she'd end up flat on her back on the bed if she gave him any encouragement. Instead, she stood on her toes, gently pulled his hair out from under the shirt collar, conscious of his warm breath on her face and how the skin on his neck was tantalizingly close to kiss.

  He looked down and moved his arms back and forth. "I am not used to having my limbs contained."

  "This is what men wear at home for comfort. They don't complain."

  His face showed disbelief as he tugged at the crotch of his jeans.

  "I'm starving. I need to eat," she said, escaping to the kitchen before he could pull off the jeans and get naked again, because of one thing she was certain — if he were naked, he'd be trying to get her naked too and she needed food.

  He followed her to the kitchen where she took out a pan, tipped a little oil into it and placed two steaks on it to fry. She put the vegetables into a microwave dish with a touch of water and turned the machine on.

  Agrat stalked around the kitchen, opening and closing kitchen cupboards.

  "The plates are in the cupboard above the sink," she said, before turning her attention back to the steak. Taking a deep breath, she realized for the first time she was relaxed enough to eat. The bread she'd toasted earlier had become a lump in her stomach after Agrat had left her; her stomach growled with hunger.

  He took down the plates and a glass before moving on to open other cupboards. On finding one cupboard locked, he snapped his fingers and his dagger appeared in his hand. He began to prize the cupboard open.

  Phoebe turned. "What are you doing?"

  "This cupboard is locked," he said. The hinge groaned as he inserted his fingers into the space he'd made with his dagger.

  "A locked cupboard means keep out."

  "The alcohol is in here. The cop could not be trusted with access to the key." The hinges groaned and snapped.

  "Why doesn't that surprise me?" Phoebe shook her head and turned her attention back to the steaks. She'd given up trying to sweat the small stuff with Agrat's unconventional behavior. So long as he didn't hurt or kill anyone, she could cope.

  The prince took out a beer, poured half into a glass and brought it over to her. "Thanks." She took the glass and sipped on the ale. Picking up the frypan, she transferred the steaks to the plates and served up the steamed vegetables.

  “Phoeeebe…”

  "Pardon?" She turned. The voice like a whisper in her head startled Phoebe. She raised her head and looked at Agrat. "Did you say something?"

  Agrat narrowed his eyes and took a sip of his beer. "I did not utter a word. I was savoring the delight of this substance. The flavor of ale has changed much from my time. It has taste and air."

  "Hops and bubbles."

  He was leaning against the kitchen bench, in jeans that molded to his butt and thighs, his expression thoughtful. A tingling sensation stirred between her thighs. He had lost that brooding, watchful quality she associated with him. Phoebe smiled, marveling at how quickly he had turned her thoughts about him around. "That cop's a bad influence on you. Come and eat."

  He took the plate from her and when the tips of his fingers brushed hers a current, little more than a soft vibration, passed between them.

  Intimate.

  A gentle caress.

  After placing the plate on the table, he pulled out her chair so she could sit, then sat in his seat looking at the steak, his expression puzzled.

  Phoebe cut her steak and put a bite of it into her mouth, savoring the flavor. She noticed he wasn't eating. "What?"

  "I do not recognize the beast that this comes from." He took his fork, speared the steak and held it up to the light.

  "It's from a cow," she replied before taking another bite.

  "Do you not thank the animal for giving us the gift of its life before you consume it?" he asked, putting it back on the plate.

  Phoebe looked at her medium rare steak as the blood oozed out. She tried not to think about where it had come from. "Um, no." Her fork hovered over the next piece of steak. She speared a vegetable instead.

  "On campaign, it was our custom to thank the animal for the sacrifice of its life before we slaughtered and roasted it on a spit."

  Phoebe slapped her fork down. "Would you like to say grace?"

  "Grace?"

  "We can thank God for this meal."

  "But it is the beast that gave up its life," he said, clearly puzzled.

  "How about you thank the 'beast'?" Phoebe suggested.

  "As you wish." Agrat put his hands together in a prayer position. "Noble beast of the fields, we thank you for the gift of your life. Your life-force was sacrificed so that we may live. We thank you for the gift of sustenance." He bowed his head.

  Phoebe bowed her head to her steak, wishing she'd had the ingredients to make risotto. She picked up her fork.

  "What part of the beast is this? It's soft. It has an unusual texture like the tongue."

  Phoebe gulped, grabbed her glass of beer and swallowed. "I don't know. Our meat is excellent. Tender. Why do you ask? I'm sure it's not a tongue."

  He watched her maneuver the knife and fork and followed her example. Cutting a piece, he put it to his mouth, chewed it thoughtfully and swallowed. "My people believed certain parts of the beast contained properties. Blood gives fortitude, the eyes the gift of all seeing, the heart encourages valiance. My men fought over the testes and penis."

  "I think I'll cook pasta tomorrow," she muttered, shoving in another piece of steak and chewing it mechanically.

  “Phoeeebe…”

  Phoebe dropped the fork. It landed with a clatter on her plate. "What was that? That's the second time someone called my name."

  "I heard nothing." Agrat stood. A frown creased his brow and he seemed to grow bigger. Sparks flew off his body. "My hearing range far exceeds a human’s."

  Sheer, sharp fright overwhelmed her. "It's like it's in my head. A sort of a whisper. It's evil." An insidious vine of blackness curled around her mind. She put her hands either side of her face and pressed them to her skull. Was she going crazy? Little hairs stood up on her arms and legs.

  Agrat put his arms around her, holding her to him. He ran his hands all over her body, not in a seductive way but as if trying to sense something. "The vibrations are demon energy. Galaden is using his demon force to hunt you." His lips turned in a sneer. "He is too weak to do it himself."

  "I can't get the voice out of my head," she cried. Her heart began to hammer as a sensation of crumbling from the inside made
her cling to him.

  He pressed her face to his chest. "Focus on my heartbeat. I will try to shield you with my energy, though demon power is insidious, difficult to vaporize."

  Phoebe squeezed her eyes shut, listening to the thump, thump, thump, of his heart.

  "Phoeeebe. Phoeeebe. Phoeeebe," the chant continued.

  Terror gripped her. "It's chanting. I can see it in my mind like a black wave coming at me. I can't get away from it. It's like it's swallowing me," she cried as she gulped for air. Her knees began to buckle underneath her. Only Agrat's arms around her kept her on her feet.

  "Fight it. Believe in me. Believe in your own power," he urged.

  "What power? I'm not like you."

  "Galaden said your powers come from the Goddess of the North. Perhaps you are more like me than you know," he said.

  A sensation, strong like armor, surrounded her. Agrat! The blackness receded though she could still sense the tentacles reaching out for her, trying to weave their evil around her and drag her down. Her whole body trembled as she fought it.

  "Call on your ancestor. Do not let the demon energy into your mind."

  "I can't work energy." Lungs heavy, she gasped for air, but it seemed as if she couldn't get oxygen. Black spots appeared before her eyes. Her fingers gripped his arms, her nails digging into him, needing his wholeness, his very essence.

  "Goddess power is in your bloodline. Call for her strength. Do it!" he ordered.

  Mind reeling, Phoebe fought to focus on an image of the warrior goddess, Freya, she'd studied in art school.

  ""Phoeeebe, Phoeeebe, Phoeeebe," the voice chanted.

  "I can't hold the image," Phoebe said, her voice high with panic. "This thing's too powerful." A blackness surrounded her, dragging her down, sapping her vitality, her very will to live. Down, down, down it pulled her.

  "No! Don't let it overpower you.” His arms tightened around her. “Take my energy. Use it to link to the goddess."

  A pulsing sensation vibrated around her, touching her body and she could see a red haze surrounding her. She sensed Agrat's love and protection, the essence of his power and clung to it. She sucked in a deep breath. The voice receded, then a fierce, warlike charge hit her, roaring like a lion in her mind as it filled and strengthened her. Freya! Her whole body vibrated and twitched with the force of it. The energy was electric, filling her core before zinging out to her extremities, permeating her cells.