Demon Seed

by Jianne Carlo

  “Fuck me.” The low growl slithered up her spine.

  His hot palm covered her mound. “Jesus.”

  He flipped her over.

  The skirt fell to her shoulders.

  Demon stared at her exposed pussy, her exposed hairless pussy.

  He licked his lips. Traced a slippery fold with one finger. Grabbed the head of his cock and squeezed. Their gazes met; his predatory eyes almost black. “For me?”

  Heat flamed her flesh, but she refused to spoil his obvious pleasure. One white lie. “Sim, Demon mina.”

  He grabbed the hem of her skirt, tore the fabric apart, and tossed the tatters aside. Teeth bared, nostrils thinning and flaring, his chest rising and falling, all primitive, primordial male, and all hers.

  A smile as wide and as powerful as the mighty Orinoco captured her lips. That she released his inner beast the way he did hers spiked the desire fevering her veins to new heights. She surged to her elbows, scrambled the halter off one arm and then the other.

  “Tie me.”

  Jacinta blinked and looked up to find him holding two strips of cloth in one hand. She shook her head. “Demon?”

  “Five. You have to come five times first.” The strips fell onto her stomach. Hands outstretched, wrists together. “Tie me now, kitten.”

  “I suck your cock. One orgasm.”

  “No. Not negotiable. You had your chance.” He slanted her a look she couldn’t fathom. “Remember that. I gave you the option of being in charge.”

  Before she could blink again, he had her hands tied to the slats in the bed and his nose buried in her folds. His gaze met hers, the stubborn forelock slashed one brow, his hot breath singed her slick flesh, and her pussy contracted. His mouth curved, and the devil twinkled from his intense stare. “Now you don’t come until I do.”

  His tongue became an instrument of torture, flicking here, there. Pressed flat against her nub, unmoving, hot, coarse. She arched, tugged at the restraints. “Por favor.”

  He didn’t budge, didn’t move, weighted her thighs with his massive shoulders and arms, pinning her in place. Did a slow, torturous exploration of every inch of her sex. She writhed, pleaded, commanded, threatened him with reciprocation. But he refused to hurry, seeming to luxuriate in her torment, his wicked grin coming and going as he studied her response to each different angle. When he filled her, his mouth covering her center, gliding inside—barely—and then retreating, she said through gritted teeth, “I will pay you back. Thrice fold.”

  “Come to New York with me, and I’ll let you come.” His teeth grazed her throbbing nub.

  “This is not fair,” she wailed, the agony of being right there, poised on the brink of release unbearable.

  “You taste so fine, kitten. Come with me. One month.” He slipped a finger inside and dragged a circle around the pulsing nub.

  “Por favor, Demon mina. Mercy.”

  “One month.” He blew on the wet, aching spot, and she shuddered.

  “One day.” She would go mad. She would beat him senseless for this.

  “Three weeks.” He suckled a swollen fold.

  She dug her heels into the covers, her inner muscles contracted, she jerked off the mattress, and his mouth rubbed her nub. She squeezed her thighs together, and he laughed. The beast laughed!

  What mattered another lie now? “Sim. Yes. Three weeks. Fuck me now.”

  He trapped her gaze. “You gave your word.”

  His warrior mask vanished, and the berserker she had seen on the boat surfaced like a rocket shot out of water. His movements blurred. He freed her hands and flipped her over.

  “On your knees. Spread wide. Don’t test me, kitten.”

  Never had she obeyed an order with such eagerness and abandon. She stuck her bottom in the air in a silent, fervent plea and rested her elbows on the bed, so ready for his invasion, so ready to explode, her walls drenching and clamping in anticipation.

  The hard crown of his penis probed her sex. He gripped her sides and drove in. The force of his thrust sent her down farther, and she rested one cheek on the covers. He took her like a siege army. Driving in long, hard strokes. One hand reached around and cupped her breast; his thumb and forefinger firmed on the nipple. Every thrust went deeper, and she sank lower and lifted her ass higher, and he finally hit a clump of nerves that made her gasp and crush the covers.

  “Come for me. Now.” He pinched her throbbing nipple to a point beyond pain, and she shattered. Her vaginal walls contracted in fierce, tight jerks around his pounding cock. His testicles slapped the spot his palms had teased.

  He wrenched out of her, and she wailed, “No. No. Pelo amor de Deus—no!”

  Confused, distraught, angry, she spun over and rose to her elbows.

  His head was bowed. His wet, erect cock glistened, and white spurts erupted from the purpled head.

  The phone rang.

  All those potential babies spilled onto the covers. Shame filled her. She had tried to trick him, tried to have him give her a baby. A tear dripped down one cheek. Jacinta turned her face into the pillow. This was not the memory she wanted.

  The phone rang again. Unable to look him in the eye, she scooted off the bed and stumbled to the bathroom. She leaned against the closed door and prayed for forgiveness for long minutes.

  She jumped when he pounded on the door. “Jacinta. Open up.”

  Answer, say something. She cleared her throat. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Jacinta wanted nothing more than to disappear. Couldn’t face her reflection in the mirror. Turned on the tap and splashed water on her hot cheeks. Wet a washcloth and cleaned her private parts.

  “Kitten. What’s wrong? Open up.”

  She inhaled. Exhaled. Stared at the white painted wood and gathered her scattered wits. Widened her lips into a smile and opened the door.

  He snagged her to him, and his fist nudged her chin. “What just happened?”

  Resting her palms on his chest, Jacinta stared at sweet flesh that she’d never see again after tonight. “I hadn’t realized what you meant to do.”

  “Look at me.”

  Glancing up, she bit her lip at the intensity of his stare.

  “It was the only way to give you what you wanted and prevent a pregnancy.”

  She couldn’t read anything in his eyes and didn’t want him to guess how her heart ached to hear him say those three words again, so she dropped her gaze and said, “I understand now. Who was on the phone?”

  “Satan. Sister Helen and Mother Superior want to leave for the cloister this afternoon. They want us—you—to have breakfast with them. Satan wants to debrief everyone before they go.”

  “I knew she wanted to leave today. Mother Superior doesn’t function well in the outside world. I’ll get dressed.”

  “Not so fast.” He tipped her chin. “Are we good? Do I need to apologize?”

  “No. A thousand times no.” She should be the one begging his forgiveness.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Nothing important. I must hurry. Sister Helen is a tyrant about punctuality.”

  The expression on his face told her that he didn’t believe a single word, so she sought to distract him from his suspicions. “Did Satan find Lucia and Fredo?”

  Jacinta tapped his shoulder. “I cannot dress if you don’t let go.”

  His arms fell away, and he stood aside. “He found them. They’re both okay and should be back at home by now.”

  “I’m happy to hear that. I worried about them. What of the maid, Paola? And her children? She was very kind to me.”

  “Also okay. One of the men took the family to a cousin downriver.”

  She heard the sink and realized he was cleaning his privates. She shrugged on the loose dress she’d bought from the gift shop. “And the others?”

  He explained about the men.

  “And that woman, Tia?”

  “At the San Carlos medical center.”

  Jacinta spun around
to find Demon wearing black pants and pulling a T-shirt over his head. “She was hurt?”

  “A gash from a piece of glass that needed stitching. Nothing serious. Real piece of work, that one.” Demon scanned her outfit. “If it weren’t for your breasts, you’d look all of fourteen.”

  “What does that mean?” She folded her arms.

  “That I’m a scumbag cradle robber. Let’s go. Sooner this is over, sooner we can have that long conversation I’ve been wanting to have from the second I set eyes on you.” His stride deliberate and purpose filled, Demon reached the door before her, opened it, and waved her through.

  They walked in silence, and he didn’t attempt to touch her. The separation had begun. Jacinta suppressed a long sigh.

  Satan greeted them in the lobby. “We’re set up in the library. I didn’t want any interruptions and no outside ears.”

  “Sounds good.” Demon set his hand to the small of her back, and they both followed Satan down a narrow hallway.

  “Mother Superior won’t be joining us. Sister Helen doesn’t want her nerves frayed for the trip. Jacinta, isn’t the Mother Superior the one who’s supposed to be in charge?”

  Demon snorted.

  “She’s in charge of our spiritual guidance.”

  Satan halted at the door and shot her a sidelong glance. “That explains a lot. I want to keep this breakfast short, so I’ll be playing quarterback.”

  Never would she understand English. “Quarterback?”

  “He means that if we wander off topic, he’ll bring us back.”

  Demon’s explanation only added to her confusion.

  They entered the library, and Jacinta’s gaze met Sister Helen’s. She held her breath. No. She had so prayed that the worst of it had been hearing Pedro call her daughter. And she was not ready to acknowledge any of it. Demon knew. And he had avoided the issue, let her call Pedro uncle earlier. But she recognized the expression on Sister Helen’s face and knew more bad news would be forthcoming.

  Jacinta shot Demon a side peek and studied every detail of his beautiful face. The stubborn, tempting forelock, his luscious mouth, the harsh angles of his cheekbones, and her belly cramped. Never had she met a kinder person. Never had any one person striven so hard to cocoon her from harm. Never had a single individual taken over her whole world, her whole universe. Leaving him would be sheer torture. The thought of a lifetime without the smell of him, the feel of his hardness, the taste of him left her bereft.

  “Jacinta, sit next to him.” Sister Helen angled her head at Demon.

  She needed to be separate from him. Didn’t Sister Helen understand?

  “That is not a suggestion, young lady.”

  Jacinta flinched, grabbed Demon’s hand, led him to the lone sofa in the room, and met his stare. “Please. She will not relent.”

  “Happy to oblige.” He not only sat next to her but draped his arm over her shoulder and dragged her so close their bodies aligned.

  Satan took the chair opposite Sister Helen’s. “What’s up?”

  “I would like him to state his intentions. Now.”

  “He wants to marry her.” Satan growled the statement, crossed his arms, and glared at Sister Helen.

  “From his mouth. And you will remain quiet.” Sister Helen narrowed her eyes.

  Demon withdrew his warmth and shifted away from Jacinta. “I know what I should do. Let her go. Let her live on her own for a while. I’m not that honorable a man. I can’t let go. I want to marry her. Give her the babies she wants.”

  The small room seemed to take on a life of its own, spinning dreams and fantasies. Jacinta saw not Sister Helen or Satan, but her and Demon, that porch, and the chubby, tiny replica of him.

  “I bastardize your English. I know nothing about proms or country clubs. I do not deserve you.” She pressed a hand on her quivering lips.

  Demon dropped to his knees before her. He captured her wrist. “I’m the one not deserving. You’ve no idea how tarnished I am.”

  “You are everything a man should be. A true warrior. An honorable knight. I know nothing of your world—”

  “Enough.” Sister Helen stood and rolled her eyes. “It’s obvious you two are meant for each other. Stop being idiots and figure things out. Jacinta, you had sex with this man. Oh, don’t give me that look. I know you, young lady. And I know you wouldn’t give yourself to anyone without giving your heart. Uh-uh, shut up.”

  Jacinta snapped her jaw back in place. This was so not the Sister Helen she knew.

  Demon squeezed her hand and returned to his seat. “Spit it out. Jacinta’s getting upset, and I won’t have that.”

  Sister Helen smiled. “You’ll do. I’ll tell you everything I know. I beg your forgiveness first, Jacinta. For I fear both Rosa and I have wronged you in this.”

  Saliva vanished from Jacinta’s mouth. She cleared her throat. “Demon said it right the other day. You’ve been my only parent. Rosa was my mother, but you raised me. I could forgive you anything.”

  The nun gave Jacinta a pale imitation of a smile. “I will not hold you to that. I met your mother when she was fifteen. I was in FARC then, and Pedro was an ally. We were stationed at his ranch.”

  Demon cuddled Jacinta close. “Was Father Lawson in FARC too?”

  “No. He had always been destined for the priesthood. Our parents were convicted IRA prisoners. The organization sent my five brothers and me to Colombia after my parents’ conviction. There was a price on our heads.”

  Sister Helen picked up the teapot on the coffee table and poured two cups of tea, added a liberal dose of honey to one, and offered it to Jacinta. “Here, child. Has she eaten?”

  “No.”

  Jacinta glared at first one, then the other, but accepted the mug. “I can speak for myself.”

  “Continue.” Satan reached for the coffeepot.

  “Everyone thought the baby was Jose’s. Pedro thought it was his. He is not your father, Jacinta.”

  The cup slipped sideways, and hot tea splashed onto the floor. Jacinta stared at Sister Helen, unable to believe, striving to stifle the hope spiking her heartbeat and depriving her lungs of sweet oxygen.

  Demon snatched the saucer and teacup before they hit the floor, and set them on the table. “Sweet mother of—Is this true?”

  “It is. You must understand Rosa matured early, both physically and mentally. You couldn’t live with Pedro and remain innocent or a child if you wanted to survive. When she turned fifteen, her body blossomed. Pedro began to notice. We, my five brothers and I, were all stationed at his estate. My third brother, Deaglán, who was seventeen at the time, fell in love with Rosa, and she with him.” Sister Helen stopped speaking, her hazel eyes went distant, and Jacinta knew she was reliving the past.

  She registered the change in Demon’s breathing and shot him a sidelong glance. His normal tanned complexion had paled. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” When Demon opened his mouth to urge Sister Helen to continue, Jacinta tugged his wrist and shook her head.

  He captured her hand and kissed each knuckle. No one spoke for long seconds.

  Jacinta noticed Satan had sat forward, his concentration absolute and focused on Sister Helen, waiting for her to continue.

  Sister Helen flinched. “Rosa told me that Pedro had started coming into her bedroom late at night and touching her inappropriately. At that time, Pedro was the number three man in the Colombian cartel. Pedro was called to Cartagena suddenly. He was gone for three months. By the time he returned, Rosa was pregnant but not showing.”

  A small kernel of joy grew low in Jacinta’s belly, and tears pooled in her eyes. “You are my aunt.”

  “I am, and my brother Deaglán is your father. Both your parents would be so proud of you, child. I only wish they could see you now.” Sister Helen’s voice wavered on the last few words.

  “My father?” Oh saying the word washed away the stain of sin she had refused to face, but her relief tempered immediately at the strained expres
sion on Sister Helen’s face. She picked up the teacup, cradled it with both hands, and sipped the tepid liquid, hoping the brew would soothe her pinging nerves. “He is dead?”

  “Yes. Two days after Pedro returned, we found Deaglán’s body at the bottom of a gulley.”

  Deg-lahn. Jacinta repeated her father’s name mentally, marveling at the musical quality of the syllables.

  “We never knew if it was an accident or not. Soon after that, Pedro took Rosa as his mistress. She let him think the baby was his and begged me to help get the baby to safety. She was so afraid that Pedro would abuse the baby too.”

  The tea tasted bitter even with all the honey. Jacinta set the teacup and saucer on the table. “How old was my mother?”

  Sister Helen squeezed her eyes shut for a second. “Sixteen and a half by the time she had you. You came almost two months early. We were lucky because Pedro was away on one of his raids. We told him the baby was stillborn. Patrick, Father Lawson, took you to the cloister.”

  “Why would they accept her?” Satan asked.

  “Mother Superior. She’s a relative,” Demon, not Sister Helen, answered.

  “My aunt. It’s why we were sent to South America. She was in a convent in Colombia before joining the cloister in Brazil. I will care for her, Jacinta, so get that notion out of your head. You are not returning to the cloister.”

  Jacinta narrowed her eyes. “I will not allow anyone to make decisions for me any longer.”

  Demon grasped her wrist. “Don’t be ornery, kitten. You were the one who said you weren’t going back.”

  All of a sudden, the realization hit Jacinta. “Mother Superior is my great-aunt? I have an aunt and a great-aunt.”

  “We are your family, child. Always have been.”

  Jacinta turned to Demon. She touched his cheek. “Family. I have family.”

  “Calling quarterback here. Go on, Sister Helen.” Satan leaned back in the chair, cradling the cup and saucer in his hands.

  “Rosa had tried to escape from Pedro twice before her pregnancy and failed. She so desperately wanted to be with you that she appealed to Rafael Vilas for help. He was Pedro’s trusted accountant at the time. We waited for six months. When Pedro was away on another of his missions, Rafael took her to Brazil. Not to the cloister, but to an orphanage near São Paolo.”