Free Satan's Sword (Imp Book 2) by Debra Dunbar Page A

cynically. “Tempting, but I’m afraid that’s way beyond even my power. I can stop it from being an erogenous zone. Anything in addition to that would be a miracle.”
    It would be nice not to have an orgasm every time someone grabbed my arm. It was funny at first, but now it was just annoying. Either way, this whole thing was going to be a lesson in humiliation. If I said no, he’d just force me. At least he was asking politely now, as if I had an option to refuse Reluctantly, I raised my right arm over my head to expose the tattoo of the sword with the angel wing guards and the red, raised circle of flesh around it.
    He took another deep breath, and his teeth became pointed spikes. Piranha teeth. “This isn’t going to be easy.” I wasn’t sure if he was talking to himself or me.
    I couldn’t watch him when he originally put the marks on my arm since he had my head turned to face the other way and held firmly with his hand. I was determined to watch this time. I wondered if he’d bite me again. Last time it had been like a thousand hot needles in my skin. That may not sound erotic to humans, but for me it had been an incredible sensation.
    Instead of his teeth, though, he took his tongue and laved the raised hickey mark with the middle part of it. I thought I was going to melt. Sensation poured through me and I arched myself against him. He ran his tongue slowly three times counter clockwise around the mark, and I thrashed against him, trying to grind my hips on his. I doubted he had a cock, or anything else down there, but I sure as hell wanted to find out.
    “Try to hold still,” he said thickly. He was somehow remaining enviously calm and collected while I was a mess of need.
    “Can’t” was all I could manage. Can’t think. Certainly can’t speak.
    He pressed himself against me more firmly, trying to hold me immobile. It only intensified the waves of orgasm crashing through me. Three sets of this torture ensued before he finally pulled his tongue away. I hoped he was done as I was at the point of insanity from all the sensation. Aftershocks were still rocking me, but the worst had to be over.
    Nope. No such luck. He took the tip of his tongue and ran it around the outer edge of the hickey mark, spiraling inward at an agonizingly slow pace. I realized it wasn’t his teeth that had the hot needle sensation, but the tip of his tongue. It was like jolts of pain and pleasure as the sparks spread from my skin down through the network of his red purple deep inside me. I thought of all the things I’d love him to do with that tongue, all the parts of my body I’d like him to trace with it.
    “Ohhhhhhhh,” I dragged out, unable to formulate a coherent thought at this point. I wasn’t rubbing all over him anymore, but before I could be grateful for small gifts, I felt the pull of my personal energy rushing to the surface.
    This was really embarrassing. My kind has wild, crazy, violent sex, but the only time we allow our spirit-selves, our personal energy, to mingle is during breeding. Before you get anywhere close to an exchange there are petitions, negotiations, contracts. To have my personal energy flying to the surface, eager to leave this flesh and join with his without my thoughtful and written consent, was a grave loss of control. And at this point, I really didn’t care. As I’ve said before, pride is not my sin.
    I held my energy on the outline of my flesh, in an invitation, fully expecting nothing in return. So I was surprised when I felt the angel’s red purple energy leap up to touch the edge of mine against my skin. For the first time ever, I realized my energy had hue, orange with patches of royal blue. It swirled around and through his in an obscene splash of color, dissolving to a sharp, translucent white where it merged. Slowly, our spirit selves blended bit by bit, turning a clear, slightly opalescent white and sending a vibration of sound deep within me. I felt more and more of our