Page 11 of Last Minion Standing
I threaded my fingers into his silky hair and tugged him down to trace the lobe of his ear. I whispered, “After you lick me, I want you to fuck me, hard.”
I didn’t so much hear his groan as feel it, his whole body shuddering in reaction to my words. His firm hands slid from my waist to my full bottom, and he cupped my cheeks, molding me firmly against him. And I mean firmly. His erection pressed against me, so evident and tempting even through the fabric separating us. My pussy answered its call by soaking even further. If this kept up, I’d have a puddle under my feet.
Deciding we needed a little more privacy—because cops frowned on public sex acts, the prudes—I slipped out of his grasp. I gave him a come-hither look, one he quickly understood, and tugged him by the hand. Instead of following, he took the lead, his broad presence ahead of me making the club patrons scatter. I enjoyed the novelty of not having to push and shove my way out, just another reason a minion would be useful, especially a hot one like Drake, who I could think of so many uses for.
We emerged into the cooler night air, and instead of being pulled along, I found myself tucked into Drake’s side, his warm, heavy arm draped around me, pressing me tight against his side.
“Where are you taking me?” I queried.
“Close by,” he growled.
He wasn’t kidding. We’d gone only a block when he pulled me into a dark alleyway and pressed me up against the brick siding of a building. Scorching lips found mine in a passionate kiss, a mashing of mouths and breath that shot tingles from the top of my head right down to my toes. I opened my mouth, and his hot tongue teased mine, the wet, sensual touch making my channel tremble pleasurably.
His hands caressed the bare skin of my waist, and I silently willed them to move south. Like a mind reader, he skimmed lower and tugged up the loose fabric of my mini skirt. Since I wore a G-string, his hands immediately made contact with the skin of my full ass, and he groaned against my mouth.
“You are so fucking hot.”
I loved it when a guy talked dirty to me, but right now, I wanted action. “Shut up and touch me.”
With a chuckle against my mouth, his hands got busy. One slid between my thighs and rubbed against the wet crotch of my panties. I dug my fingers into his shoulders. I needed to because my legs had turned to mush.
Drake continued to stroke me through the fabric of my undies, and I mewled and squirmed, so hot and horny I knew it wouldn’t take much to send me over the edge.
“Tell me what you want,” he growled in my ear before biting the lobe.
I didn’t reply, just slid a hand between our bodies and squeezed his hard package. His rumbling groan accompanied his hips thrusting into my cupping hand.
“Fuck me,” I whispered.
At my words, I felt his hands on either side of my hips and heard a tearing sound, followed by fresh night air on my lower lips, which signaled the demise of my panties. Offending material disposed of, his hands came back to cup my bottom, and he lifted me, pressing my molten core against his still hidden cock. The rough material of his jeans as he rubbed me against him made me throw my head back and moan loudly.
Even lost in the throes of passion, I couldn’t miss the distinctive smell of brimstone.
“Demon!” I hissed. Drake immediately set me down, my skirt fluttering down to cover my bare crotch. I opened my eyes to scan the alley. I would have seen a lot more if Drake hadn’t placed himself protectively in front of me. Totally macho, so totally hot. But I was a modern girl who didn’t need saving from a man, and besides, I really wanted to kill whoever had interrupted what had been shaping up to be my greatest orgasm ever.
I slipped around to Drake’s side and looked at the demons who’d come to pay a visit. Red-skinned with long, curving horns, these beasts were one of the nastier castes from Hell.
The biggest of them took a step forward and spoke. “Leave, shifter, our business is with the girl.”
Drake’s a shifter? I stored this interesting tidbit for later. Apparently, I had a date with some thugs. Before I could say a word, though, Drake spoke for me, with his fist.
The lead demon flew back and hit the opposite wall with a loud crash. He slid down the dented wall and slumped to the ground. For a moment, I wondered just what Drake’s animal was because it took a lot of bloody strength to knock out a demon.
“Who’s next?” asked my hero, um, I meant my wannabe minion.
Four more demons stepped forward, and I admit, I was impressed. Five demons to handle little ol’ me? Ha, they’d obviously never watched me train. My dad had made sure at an early age I knew how to defend myself. He said a girl should be able to back up a “no” in case it wasn’t heard
The irony never failed to amuse me because my dad, the demon of lust, ended up being an overprotective father. He claimed it was because he knew what males were thinking and no way were they doing those dirty things to his little girl.
But back to the fight. Drake charged the demons, and I would have applauded his balls—I bet they’re huge—but I had my hands full with the two demons who decided to leap into the air and avoid Drake’s mad dash. In a flash, I’d palmed my silver daggers, enchanted ones of course. Nothing but the best for Daddy’s girl.
The thugs tried to flank me, but I kept the wall to my back, and when they dove on me, I sprang up then down, one high-heeled foot kicking out to one side while I slashed toward the other side with my blades. I connected in both instances and was rewarded with grunts of pain.
However, it wasn’t enough to make them back off. The next few minutes were a blur as I dodged, feinted, and stabbed, the exhilaration of the fight making me laugh.
“Come on, you pussies,” I taunted. Enraged, they charged me.
A slice through a hamstring here, a stab that nicked an artery there, a well-aimed kick at a pair of sensitive demon balls, and suddenly I found myself whirling to see my attackers disappearing through a portal back to Hell.