Neon Blue E Frost (speld decodable readers .TXT) 📖

it’s better if it’s not just me bound to him. Still, I really, really, really do not want to be bound to a demon. That’s just not good on so many levels.

“Can we go back to bed now? I want to hear you screamin’ into the pillow.”

My belly tightens at the thought. I’ve never come in anything but missionary position before, but I think he could hang me upside-down by the toes and still give me those soul-shaking orgasms. “Just sex, right? No more of whatever you did to me last time.”

He kisses me, mouths across my cheek to my ear and sucks on it. Hot, bright splinters of excitement shoot through me. I really do love it when he plays with my ears. He speaks with his mouth against my ear, the vibrations spreading over my skin, making me shiver. “What’d I do last time that was so bad? Way I remember it, you came like a freight train.”

I push against his chest, trying to get a little space, before I get lost in what he’s doing to me. Again. “That whole heart-breaking-open thing. No more of that.”

“I liked that. And the big mutual O. We’re definitely doin’ that again. C’mon.” He cuts short my protest by lifting me against his chest and carrying me back into the bedroom.

Chapter 28

I wake to cool sheets and the smell of coffee.

“Wakey-wakey, sweet meat.”

I blink at the sound of the demon’s voice. Focus on him, the colorful nimbus of his dreadlocks, the smooth expanse of his chest, as he sits down on the edge of the bed and settles a tray across my legs. With a tink of ceramic, he sets a mug of coffee down on my bedside table. Steam rises from the mug to curl around the blue rose that’s still as fresh as it was when he gave it to me.

“Hi,” I say, bleary and a little shy from the emotions of the night.

“Figured I’d better get you up if you’re gonna make it to work today.”

Monday. It’s Monday, and on Monday I go to work, no matter what weirdness has invaded my life. Shifters, the fae, nearly becoming dinner for a pack of barghasts, nothing keeps me from going to work. The demon’s weirdness isn’t going to, either. I lever myself up, carefully, to avoid upsetting the tray. I don’t want to spill one of his unbelievably good breakfasts. This morning it’s a boiled egg, a pile of crispy bacon strips, and a pair of croissants, split open and slathered with cream and dark red jam. Dearie dubbleskey, as my Dala would say, I’ve died and gone to gastronomic heaven.

“What time is it?” I ask, peering around the rose at my clock.

“Eight-thirty,” he responds, stretching across my legs and taking a sip from his own cup of coffee. “Thought I’d give you time for a shower, too. You smell kinda—”

“Yes, I get it,” I grit, before he can elaborate. I can smell myself, sweat and sex and smoke rising in an unlovely potpourri from my skin. He chuckles and drinks his coffee. “I need to brew today. We’ll be running low on magic milk.” And I’m running low on everything that goes into the magic milk, which means a trip to the woods tonight. “Um, without wanting to spark off a fight—” Which will inevitably end in sex and make me late for work. “I need to go gathering tonight.”

“Yeah, so?” He looks unconcerned, sprawled across my legs, propped on one elbow so the muscles in his bare shoulders and chest bulge. I’d swear he was posing but what does he have to pose for? It’s not like he needs to seduce me anymore.

“I’ll need to call the Squire. And you seemed funny about him—”

He steals a piece of bacon off my tray and crunches it down. “No more fraternizing with Tin Can Boy.”

“I need him. I’ve had some close calls and he protects me—”

“I’ll protect you.”

I glare at him over a bite of croissant. “Do you have a magic horse that can take us to wherever the things I need are growing?”

He grunts. “We’ll talk about it when you get home. I’ll pick you up at six.”

I really don’t want to fight this morning, so I nod. But I’m not giving in on this one. I need to go gathering, before I run out of anything critical.

He steals another piece of bacon and chews it thoughtfully. “I wanna talk to you about somethin’ else tonight.”

I lift an eyebrow. “What?”

“We’ll talk about it tonight. But I’ll tell you now it’s a favor, so you can start thinkin’ about what you’ll want in return.”

The way to send you back to Hell. The thought skitters through my head before I can stop it.

Ain’t gonna happen, he growls into my mind. So thinka something else.

I focus fiercely on my breakfast. Lick jam off my lips.

He grunts, shifts on the bed. “An’ you think I’m distractin’.”

I lift my eyes to his face, although it’s hard to look away from the food. “What do you mean?”

“I should be thinkin’ about negotiatin’ with you. How to get what I want without fuckin’ up what I got. Art of the Deal and all that. But I watch you eat an’ all I can think about is whether I can get you to gimme a blow-job before you go to work.”

I choke on a bite of croissant.

The demon pounds me on the back. “No asphyxia before nine a.m.”

When I can finally breathe again, I collapse into laughter.

He doesn’t make me give him a blow-job before I go to work. He does insist on dressing me, though, rejecting everything I suggest.

He tosses my favorite sweater on the bed with a dismissive sniff and rummages deeper in my closet.

“Look,” I say, getting a little annoyed when my second favorite sweater lands on the floor. “Whatever I wear’s going to be covered by my work smock anyway. Why do you care?”

He turns around, holding a cream knit minidress that