by Mila Young
He blew a breath against her sex, which throbbed, and she shuddered. His lips pressed to her pussy, and he flicked her clit. She gasped and lost herself, squirming. Nothing had prepared her for this. Gunn’s tongue was a stroking machine, lapping her like ice cream, pulling at her inner folds. Her body floated as she remained at the mercy of Gunn’s attentiveness.
“Yes. God. How are you doing that?”
His tongue pierced her, and she moaned from pleasure, her core clenching around him. She arched her back, the build-up intensifying. She’d wanted this so much. Why had she waited so long to let a guy go down on her?
He sucked her, the sounds delectable, his mouth filthy sexy. “Cum for me.”
Before she responded, he nudged her thighs wider apart and continued his assault on her clit. Her nipples hardened, and she wasn’t sure how much more she could take. A vibration thrummed within her, rising with a sudden spike, and she tumbled over the edge of orgasmic bliss.
“Gunn. Ah, ah!” She cried out as the explosive sensation rocked her at the core, her mind and body soaring through the heavens. Every inch of her clenched, her muscles ached. She tried to press her thighs tighter to rub them together, but Gunn wasn’t budging, licking every last drop as she came into his mouth. Goddamn, he knew how to turn her on with the swiftest of touches.
Floating down, she smiled crazily, unable to believe what she just experienced.
When he finally lifted himself, his lips and chin glistened. “Baby girl, I could eat you everyday.”
As he stared down at her, she glimpsed something in his eyes, a softness she’d never seen before. “Give me what you’re keeping from me.”
His sly grin promised her the most amazing ride. He unbuttoned himself and dropped his pants and underwear, then peeled his shirt over his head, revealing his Argos rune tattoo on the right-hand side of his chest. A rounded rune was on the outside with the flame in the middle, and it came with protection that reduced the chance of demon possession.
For the first time, she stared at him completely nude. His cock stood erect. How big was he? Regardless, she had to have him and leaned closer, her fingers raking down his ripped stomach. He bent down to his pants on the floor, she heard the rustling of clothes, and he returned with a condom in his hand. He slipped it over himself while rubbing the tip, as if preparing for what was to come.
“Take me,” she pleaded, raising her pelvis.
He leaned over her, their bodies inches from touching. He took one of her hands and pinned it to the top of the desk, then did the same with the other.
Beneath him, she met his gaze, unable to stop her racing pulse.
“Relax, baby,” he said, his voice calm. Already the tip of his erection caressed the length of her sex. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
A charge slid down her spine, and her body responded, making her wetter. Wrapping her legs around his hips felt natural. He placed his forehead against hers and whispered, “Are you sure about this?”
“Yes. I need this.” She swallowed, trying to hold her composure because, on the inside, her emotions were on overdrive. She wanted Gunn more than any damn thing in the world, starting with him filling her as she lay open for him. This was the moment she’d finally lose her virginity, and she didn’t have a single regret. Only the urgency to feel Gunn, have him take her, because it was difficult to concentrate on anything else.
He pushed his hardness into her, slow at first, stretching her with his velvet touch. The sensation hurt, but in all the best ways. He kissed her, consuming her, holding her in place. A spontaneous groan rolled out of her throat, her whole body eager to take all of him.
His tongue entered her mouth, and he slid his cock deeper into her. She ground against him in that earthshattering moment. His breathing quickened, and she buried her face into his hair as he licked her neck. “You’re so tight.”
She shifted, angling herself for better access, gasping for air. “I’ve dreamt of this for so long.”
“I love those words coming from you.” He withdrew partially, then slid back in, quicker that time, harder.
“Holy hell.” Pinned beneath him, she arched with arousal, not ready for such strength. But he didn’t stop, thrusting in and out, picking up the pace. Her breaths grew ragged as he took her. Claimed her just as she’d asked. The pressure between her legs uncoiled, and excitement gripped hold of her, twisting and drumming for more.
Her hips rocked in rhythm, matching his strokes. With a groan, he released her hand and pinched a pointed nipple, pulling at it. She couldn’t think, could only focus on him touching her, fucking her, devouring her. The sound of him slapping against her, and the musky fragrance of their sex flooded her. A perfect moment in time she’d never forget. She was too painfully near the edge again, not wanting the sensation to end.
Gunn’s groan had her trembling with elation, pushing a swell of ecstasy through her, senses heightening. The way he fucked her harder and faster, threw her into a blissful state she never wanted to come down from. Their friction ignited fire between them, and he never stopped taking her. Hammering into her, his eyes always on her, his jaw tight.
And the climax struck fast. She convulsed and let out a high-pitched moan as her entire world shuddered. Gunn growled like a bear, buried deep inside her, and paused. She felt him pulsing inside her.
Her eyes fluttered open, and Gunn collected her into his arms, cocooning her with his body. She curled her arms around his waist and listened to the thump of his quickened heartbeat. It calmed her. Instead of the panic she’d expected to feel about giving herself to Gunn, a guy ten years her senior, someone her brother had said was broken, he’d left her comforted. Loved. Protected. “That was fucking amazing,” she breathed fast, her inner walls squeezing around him cock.
He gasped for air. “You keep doing that and we’re going another round.” His hold on her loosened as he withdrew from her.
He brushed the hair off her face and looked down at her, the tip of his finger tracing her lips. “You’re more beautiful than I thought possible.”
A screech resounded somewhere in the house, definitely not in her head. They both froze and exchanged glances. Concern crawled behind Gunn’s gaze, and now it leached over to her, blending in with the earlier desires. The battle in her head between lust and clearing her mind about her job were a chaotic mess. That tug-of-war inside her barraged her with an urgency to check on Henry and Nora, and the slow build of guilt iced her gut as that won over the desire.
Gunn kissed her nose and broke their hold. “We need to go. And we are definitely finishing this if we ever get out of this house.” He crouched down and grabbed her clothes, handing them to her, then cleaned himself with the tissues he found near the windowsill, and offered her some.
She noted the spotting of blood on his condom, her virginity gone, but she wouldn’t change a thing about the moment. She cleaned herself and once she dumped the tissues in the bin, she slipped into her underwear.
The muscles twitched in Gunn’s back as he pulled on his jeans and top. Sinful and wicked… he was her drug, an addiction leaving her breathless. The more her mind cleared of fog, the more she should have felt guilty, and hell she did, but there was little regret for letting Gunn claim her.
When he turned to her with a raised brow, she dragged on her clothes quickly. Henry and Nora needed help. She kept repeating the words in her mind to remind herself of the urgency and break through the lust engulfing her.
Within seconds, they darted out of the room. The split-second she crossed the threshold, a cold snap washed away her earlier emotions, yet the pining to have Gunn fuck her again, so hard until she forgot herself, remained. But the fearful urgency to check on the older couple now collided into her.
Chapter 9
Gunn
Gunn burst into the living room, skidding to a halt at the entrance, gawking at the scene before him. He shot out an arm across Cyra’s stomach once she reached his side, stopping her in her tracks.
“God, no!” She trembled against his touch, and damn if he didn’t feel like doing the same as a bucket load of guilt twisted a blade in his heart.
Henry was on the floor near the window, pushing himself up. Nora hung upside down in the middle of the room, suspended from the chandelier by a blue scarf tied around her ankles. Her shrieks deafened him, while her arms swung wildly as the goose attacked her.
The goddamn zombie goose was pecking at her, shredding her cardigan, tearing out hair, mirroring what she would have done to the bird in preparation for the oven.
“Stop, please!” Nora yelled. “I promise, I’ll never eat meat again. I’ll donate our savings to the animal shelter. Anything.”
“Fuckin’ goose.” Gunn stomped closer as the animal jerked around to face him, releasing an ungodly hiss of death no creature could ever make.
With his lasso in hand, Gunn lunged. The bird torpedoed upward, launching itself for his head. He ducked, pivoted on a heel, and swung around. Already he’d flung the loop of his weapon, catching the animal on a leg as it careened directly for Cyra, who darted back into the hallway.
Gunn tugged the lasso back, flinging the goose to its feet. In a cowboy-style move he’d perfected, Gunn looped the cord in haste around the bird’s wings and legs to hold it in place. That should hold it.
Still, the beak had a mind of its own, snapping at his fingers, drawing blood. Gritting his teeth through the pain, Gunn rose and nudged the bird toward a display cabinet filled with figurines of women in flowing gowns. It couldn’t move or cause havoc, though he had to find a better spot to lock it up.
Cyra clasped a candelabra over her shoulder, her eyes locked on the animal. “I hate that thing.” And even with her caught in a state of fear, he adored her flushed cheeks, the way her chin trembled. She always fought back. God, he’d lost his heart big time.
The bird honked, black eyes locked on Gunn, as if promising revenge. He turned to help Nora down, unable to understand why his weapon hadn’t vanquished the demon out of the goose. Six seconds of touching any blessed item always sent the fiends packing, but it seemed the bird had no intention of dying. In fact, not one thing in this house was behaving in accordance with how demon rules worked. So what was going on?
Standing on the coffee table, he had one arm tight around Nora’s hips, the other hand gripping his blade. A quick swipe across the scarf, and Nora collapsed against him, her legs in his face. Tensing, he held on to her and lowered her gently, shoulders first on the rug, then her back. God, he didn’t want to break her spine. “You’re safe now,” he said, staring down at a bewildered woman, who clasped her hands to her chest, trepidation claiming her face.
The goose’s hiss thrummed through the room, and he caught a glimpse of the bird just as it scrambled out of his ropes. “Shit, no.” Those knots were his signature move and should be impossible to undo.
He leaped off the coffee table just as Cyra ran toward it with her candlestick in hand and fresh flowers from the vase in the hallway in the other. She whispered words he didn’t understand, then whacked both the flowers and candlestick against the bird’s head. In that exact moment, a spark of energy charged up her arms and the animal turned a gray color. It froze mid-attack, literally cemented in place—head down, beak wide open.
“What did you do?” He gawked at Cyra, confusion painted on her face as she dropped the weapons from her hands. “It’s turned into a statue.”
“I just panicked and grabbed what was next to me. Then I did a freeze spell. I had no idea how it would turn out, as I’d only read about them. Oh my god. It worked!” She clutched her stomach as if she’d throw up and lurched backward until she hit the wall.
“Shit, yeah, it did… If I’d known you were this powerful, we could have done this earlier.”
“I didn’t even know I could do that.”
Gunn’s gaze fixed on the satanic goose figurine, and he was tempted to smash it to smithereens, but that might release the fiend. “The speck’s trapped in there, right?” he asked.
Cyra knelt next to Henry, helping him stay upright. “Should be.”
Still cautious, he picked up the thing by its neck and opened the bottom door to the display cabinet. With the bird jammed in there, he shut it inside and dragged one of the single couches in front of the doors for good measure.
One fucker down. Another to go.
Dusting off his hands, he faced the room. The old man was rubbing his head and stared around with a petrified look.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
Cyra took Henry’s elbow and guided him to a sofa.
“Darn thing came out of nowhere and attacked Nora. I tried to stop it, but it was fast and so vicious.”
Nora was next to him, holding his hand with more compassion in her gaze than Gunn had seen since entering their home. She definitely still cared for her husband, despite her anger toward him. His foster parents used to argue, but they had a saying that if you’re upset about something, talk about it before going to sleep that night. Don’t carry troubles into a new day. If these two chatted more, it might help.
He straightened his back, close to laughing at himself for sounding like a marriage counselor. With his last real relationship resulting in Cherri-Anne’s death, he was the least qualified person to give such advice.
Turning to Cyra, she met his stare and offered a half-smile. Genuine and sweet, warmth flooded him. He’d spent the last few weeks avoiding Cyra, and what good had that done? The moment he’d found himself alone with her, he’d taken her virginity. Hell. Chase was going to murder him. But, to be fair, she hadn’t hesitated in the slightest and her honeyed scent still twirled in his nostrils.
He had tasted her, and now it had become clear as day that he’d gotten himself into a whole lot of shit. She’d awakened something that had been dormant inside him for too long. Plus, he’d discovered a new side to Cyra, a strong woman who stood up for herself, and someone he respected for her tenacity.
The problem came down to where Cyra and he would end up. Part of him demanded he shove aside his past, but that same dread crippled him, reminding him of what he’d done to Cherri-Anne. And he’d rather die than ever place Cyra in the face of death. She was new to Argos and didn’t have his experience with demons. The terrifying thing was that if he was faced with a decision right this moment, him or her being possessed by a demon, he would choose to take both their lives. That way no one else would die. In hindsight, he should have made that decision two years ago with Cherri-Anne.
He hated himself, ashamed of his decision. Other hunters kept telling him that was the risk in the hunting business, and he either had to deal with it or regret would consume him. So he’d dealt with the fucked-up shit the only way he’d known how. Never getting close to anyone. For years, his decision had been chewing on his sanity, and dread remained locked in his stomach. There was no turning back time, and with each passing day, helplessness pounded with futility in his head. The muscles across his back tensed like they always did when he remembered Cherri-Anne.
“Are you even listening to me or are you fantasizing in La-La Land?” Cyra slouched on one leg, her hands on her hips.
He breached the distance between them with two steps and grabbed her elbow. “Let’s talk.”
She glanced over at Henry and Nora, who sat in silence. “We won’t be long,” Cyra explained with a smile. He ought to learn some tricks from her for putting people at ease.
“Please don’t leave us,” Nora said, her eyes huge and glistening.
“We’ll just be outside the room,” Gunn said, drawing Cyra halfway down the corridor, out of earshot. He looked up to make sure no mistletoe dangled above them or they’d end up having sex aerobics up against the wall. Not that the idea didn’t stir his urges, but they had to deal with the demonic house first and then he had to decide what to do about what he’d started with Cyra.
An eerie melody started playing quietly in the background, and no way in hell was Hen
ry or Nora doing that. It reminded him of the music in horror movies just before the serial killer struck. “What the fuck’s happening now?” he mumbled under his breath.
Cyra slid free from his hold and hugged herself. “I don’t know what to do next to get us out of the house.” Her confession surprised him, as she seemed the kind to argue until she turned blue before admitting defeat, but then again, they were in a circus of a situation.
“Your spell has us trapped. Can you do a reversal spell or some counter-hex?”
She rubbed her chin while her lips pinched tightly, and his thoughts flew to how sweet they tasted. How he’d love them wrapped around his cock. With a long exhale, he stiffened and pushed those desires away. Okay, control. I have none.
“It might be possible,” she replied.
“Might is better than nothing. After seeing you freeze that zombie goose, I know you can do this.” His hand ran down her arm, though he didn’t remember moving, but his desires were out of his control in this house. He needed to keep his wits or he’d lose his head.
The lights overhead flickered, and they both looked up and then at each other. “Something’s building,” she said. “I can feel it under my skin like a thousand ants all over me.”
“Yep, and we need to get out before someone dies.” His worst fear was losing anyone. Saving everyone was crucial, and not becoming mesmerised by how delectable Cyra tasted.
“Okay, I can do a counter-hex.” She chewed on her lower lip, staring at him as if she expected him to hug her, kiss her. Damn, he wanted to, but then what? They’d do the horizontal tango right in front of Henry and Nora? He had to rein his emotions in and resist. If he’d held a thread of control, he would have stopped the goose before it had attacked the old couple. Instead, he’d fallen head over heels for Cyra. That meant he needed to watch for mistletoe to stop his lust from taking over.