Page 13 of A Date With Demons
I think about this. It’s possible to screw up a spell and accidentally summon two demons. And a date with two demons could be more fun than one, so long as nobody tries to eat me.
I nod slowly. “I do like a good BOGO.”
The first one smirks.
I reassess the situation. They tucked me in. Watched over me. They transformed for my sake, right before I passed out. True, my body couldn’t take that amount of magic near me and I collapsed, but they took care of me. And they didn’t, uh…try anything while I was out of it.
Oh god, that’s unthinkable. I exhale slowly, desperate to control the fear that pours off me.
Look at me, being impressed by the bare minimum of niceness from a couple of demons.
The bar is literally in hell, isn’t it?
This thought makes me shriek with laughter.
“What is she doing now?” the big one asks, covering his ears again.
This only makes me laugh more hysterically.
Never mind that no man on the planet who looks like these two would ever, in a million years, agree to a date with me. I was over the moon when Dane first asked me out, and he’s a Birchdale “8”— and a Salem “5” at best.
These two demons, though? They completely bury Dane in the looks department. Athletic, with muscles upon muscles. Strong and solid enough to toss a girl around like a rag doll. I’ve never thought about tattoos, but as these two are on full display, naked in front of me, I decide that I like the ink. I also like the full lips, strong jaws, and ridiculous lashes.
I know what Esther would say about these two: that they’re every witch’s wet dream, complete with roaring erections, and what the hell am I waiting for?
As my hysterical laughter abates, a teeny, tiny, wicked thought occurs to me—I wonder if those giant demon dicks would be even more massive in their actual demon forms?
But that’s just my sex-deprived brain conjuring up scenarios. Sex with demons in beast mode would probably kill me.
“What’s your name?” I ask the chatty one.
The smaller one has darker hair and a large tattoo in Latin across his chest. “Well, if you want to use real names, I’m Bragg,” he says, his blue eyes glinting in the lamplight.
My nipples tighten under his gaze, and I draw the blanket tighter around me self-consciously.
“Why wouldn’t I want to know your names?”
He shrugs cockily. “Typically, my clients prefer anonymous sex.”
“Oh,” I say, biting my lip, confused at the twinge of jealousy at the mention of other clients.
“You said your number hadn’t been called yet,” says the bigger one.
“Shut the fuck up, Rewd,” Bragg says through his teeth, maintaining a congenial smile.
I glance at the other one. He’s bigger, with a fierce, rugged face. He seems lost and angry, but maybe it’s the way his piercing, black eyes have no color. He still exudes demon vibes despite the only visible vestiges of their demoness being thehorns. While Bragg’s sweep back from his forehead and are almost camouflaged by his haircut, the big guy’s protrude from his head, sharper and more dangerous. Bragg’s are almost cute. This one? Too real.
“Your name’s Rewd?” I ask the bigger one.
“That is the name my friend gave to me,” he says.
“Does he always talk to you like that?” I ask.
“I don’t know. We just met.”
My gaze bounces between the two of them. “It seems we’re all a little newer at this than we like to admit.”
“I have nothing to confess,” Rewd says. “But if you’re asking if I’ve ever had sex, the answer is no.”