*Chiara

She swallowed, throat closing nervously, but nodded. A quiver started in her core, worked it's way upward to her lips. She pressed down on them to control her expression.

Yes. He was going to fuck her now.

This time she was afraid—she was a fool, a naïve innocent girl, playing with dangers she didn't understand. This was the Dark Flame, the Wing-Cutter, and she told him he could do whatever he wanted to her body.

And her body betrayed her with its aching, yearning need. Her nipples stood tight against the thin scrap she wore on her chest, a new flush of wetness flooded her sex at the thought of him inside her, she could barely focus her eyes. Heavy lids half-closed and she whimpered, unable and unwilling to say the words to make him stop. She wanted to belong to him and let his darkness consume her.

He drew his hand down her chest, pulling away the fitted top she wore, to cup her breast and roll her hardened nipple between his fingers. She gasped. He pinched harder, almost enough to cause pain, but she leaned into it, melting under his command, giving in and letting go. He lowered his head to take her nipple in his mouth and suck as he had her sensitive nub. She dug her hands in the column behind her, jaw clenched against a panting scream.

Thrusting her leg sideways, he spread her legs open, exposing herself to his gaze. He leaned back on his heels. It felt more vulnerable with him looking at her nakedness, than before with his face between her thighs.

"Beautiful," he said. "You are beautiful, and will only be more beautiful when my cock is buried to the hilt in your pussy."

Her chest lifted with a deep breath, nipples aching and pointed in the cool air of the hall. He took his cock in a wide hand and stroked its length, still studying her naked sex. Beads of moisture glistened on her folds and soft hairs on the mound, just as his lips were still wet from enjoying her orgasm.

He pulled the last bit of cloth free from his cock as he gripped it. He stood, crushing her to the column. Rubbing the tip on her sex, he took a handful of her hair to force her head back. She let her head fall back under his pull, helpless against the growing desire for that cock to move inside her.

Lost—she was lost, and Logan's promise of darkness and pleasure was the path forward.

Without a word, he pressed the tip of his cock into her, stretching her almost painfully, but also deliciously.

"Look at me," he commanded.

She obeyed.

He rolled his hips, as settling in, one hand holding her thigh to keep her legs spread for him. The hand in her hair pulled her head back, lighting a fire in her roots that tingled all the way to her toes. She had to look him in the eye from this position.

Her heart pounded, a thunder in her ears.

"So fucking wet, Chiara," he whispered, voice laced with darkest sin. "You are so fucking wet for me—" he leaned forward, voice turning into the barest breath—"my angel."

In a brutal thrust, he slid his entire cock into her, up and up, and wider than should be possible. She convulsed in surprise and the blinding pleasure of him filling her sex. Swallowing a shout, she gasped for air, and had to grab his shoulders to hold on. Toes curled in the tight boots. Fires swept through her core.

"I was right," he rasped. "You are so beautiful on my cock."

***

*Logan

Logan arched back to admire the view of himself buried in Chiara's plumped pussy. He'd dreamed of this moment for how many agonizing months, trapped in the dungeon with her? She was tight and hot around him, squeezing him in the mind-blowing grip of her sex and he never wanted to do anything else but fuck her.

She pushed her hands on his shoulders, and little mewling whimpers escaped her mouth, like the sweetest music he'd ever heard. Except he wanted this music louder. And to include his name.

"Hold on," he ordered and reached his hands to her perfectly firm ass. He lifted her, back and wings to the column, hands planted on the soft globes of that ass, and drove his pelvis forward, giving a little twist to really stretch her, get her ready for what was to come.

"Yes," she gasped. Her sinewy legs wrapped around his waist and the rise and fall of her naked breasts was erratic with her panting breaths.

"Not good enough," he muttered. "You need to scream my name."

Before she could reply one way or the other, his cock—tired of waiting—took over. Balls so tight they ached, he clenched his jaw and gave a few long thrusts up to the hilt of his cock, testing the angle.

Her breasts swayed and she gasped at each thrust, her pussy convulsing around him. She was wet and needy, a sheen of sweat glinted on her skin. He licked up the valley of her chest between them, tasting the salty-cream of her skin.

He moved in her, he drove deep into her, he enjoyed her. He would take her to a place of pleasure that she would never forget. He would fill her with his liquid seed, marking her as his.

Mindlessly, he fucked her, pummeling her with all his pent-up longing and torture of waiting for her, of watching her being hurt in that dungeon, and she met him thrust for thrust.

His warrior angel.

He pounded into her furiously, not holding back as he would a more fragile lover, a human, too delicate for a good, deep, demon fucking. This is what it meant to be with him.

And she met him thrust for thrust, moaning throatily and digging her nails in his skin with the torment of bliss. Her hips bucked in his hold and she cried out louder and louder.

But not his name.

No other would ever replace him.

He fisted her dark hair and crushed her to the pillar. "Chiara."

"Logan," she whimpered. "I'm—I can't—"

"Give yourself to me," he whispered. "You belong to only me."

She nodded, eyelids fluttering and heavy. An electric thrumming coursed through his nerves, a pleasure-pain that heightened every sensation. He was hyperaware of her every breath and heart-beat, his skin hummed before she moved his hand over it. A keening ache opened up in him, fear almost—that he could never get enough, never give enough, never be enough for this angel.

With a gravelly groan, he shoved it down and let himself pump mercilessly into her. All this time waiting to take her, to possess his angel, and the glorious slide of his cock in her tight pussy obliterated any other thought. She cried out something, but not his name.

By the Sleeping King of Hell, she would be his.

He had to slow down, or he would empty his seed before she was a mess in his arms. Shifting his hold, he spun her away from the column to a toppled gambling table hidden in the shadows. He set her perfect ass on the edge and drew back, almost pulling out. Locks of brown hair stuck to her sweaty face and tangled in his fingers when he hastily brushed it back—he wasn't going to miss one exquisite expression of her lovely face.

She reached for his hips, bucking her own, begging him silently to move. He slid in slowly, savouring every exquisite tingle and spark of pleasure. She squirmed against him.

"Logan, I need—" she breathed.

"Not fucking loud enough."

He picked up his rhythm again, exulting in the wet slap of skin on skin, the smooth lines of her muscles straining in her thighs and stomach, along the length of her arms. The pointed, pink pearls of her nipples were too tempting to resist and he leaned forward to suck and nip one, laving it with his tongue, then moving to the other as she fisted his hair.

She cried his name. Better.

She was utterly his—his beautiful angel he would ruin for all others, because nothing would ever taste as sweet as this forbidden fruit.

At the edges of the shadows, just beyond the columns, humans and demons were creeping closer, called by that siren sound of lust in the darkness, but he ignored them. They wouldn't dare interrupt a warrior-class demon and his chosen fuck.

With an animal grunt of passion, he leaned forward and picked up his pace again, thighs burning with the effort and the pleasure mounting from deep in his gut. She held on, nails raking his ass and back, his name on her lips, and he promised himself when he was done, and had emptied himself in her, she would wrap those lips around his cock, too, so he could fuck her mouth next.

The image of her sucking him, burned through him, and shock rocked him. She was his forbidden fruit, as well, and nothing would ever be as sweetly delicious as this angel.

She was ruining—absolutely fucking wrecking—him for any other. This angel was going to undo him. He slid his hand between her legs and found her puffed clit. He rubbed it, circling it with the rough pad of his thumb, coaxing her higher, pulling begging, unintelligible noises from her gorgeous lips. She shouted.

She shouted his name. He rotated his hips, searching out the hidden depths of her pussy with his cock. He was ruined. Ruined by the bliss of taking her, making her sin with him.

Somewhere, he heard her screaming his name and her wings spread wide with a popping noise. Those wings? He was going to mark them so deeply with the sin of his lust for her they would turn pitch black.

Her pussy squeezed and milked him. Biting back a shout, he pushed hard inside her wet sex and his seed spurted in glorious waves of unbearable pleasure. Her teeth bit into his shoulder. His hands held her hips with bruising strength. Wave after wave shook him. Never had he ridden so high.

With a shuddering groan, he unclenched his muscles and took a deep, shaking breath.

She was limp and boneless, sweaty and flushed, with her long legs still wrapped around his waist. His cock relaxed briefly, but was already twitching as he pulled from her, pearly-white cum spilling from her wet, dark pink pussy.

He cupped her chin.

"On your knees, Chiara," he ordered.

She blinked.

"On your knees, so I can fuck your mouth."

*** And that is what it means to give yourself to a demon .... Thanks for reading! Have a great one! ***