The devil’s kiss was like nothing she’d ever experienced in her life—devastatingly sensual
and sheer ecstasy on her lips, but with the heat of hell behind it, all the distilled
passion of an infinity of lovers who’d gone before, refined and contained in that kiss. It
was pure desire, pure worship, pure promise, and Lydia had never felt anything like it.
Maybe he was right and she didn’t have a soul. But his kiss drew something out of her,
something that lived behind her heart and above her pussy and in her throat and her eyes
and her ears. His kiss was like a whirlpool of stars, like falling into an oblivion so
sweet she could scarcely endure it but thought she might pass out. And then he put his
tongue in her mouth.
It was his tongue that saved her, lewd and seeking and tasting her everywhere. The thrill
of his tongue in her mouth brought her back into focus and stopped her from dissolving
into a million shards of bliss. The devil leaned over her and held her free wrist down and
pressed his hard, powerful body against her and slid his tongue into her mouth, and Lydia
knew immediately that it had been the devil’s tongue that had tempted Eve in the garden of
Eden, and that no woman would ever be able to resist a tongue like that. It slid into her
mouth and knew her, knew every place to touch, every spot to tickle, as if it knew her
every secret, and though she knew that tongue had known a million mouths, it somehow found
hers the sweetest of all.
Lydia groaned. She was throbbing now and lubricating, and she felt all liquid down there
and ready except for her thighs, which ached to open and embrace the steel-like columns of
his legs. He let go of her wrist and her hand went up around his naked back, and he was
smooth and warm as any man she’d ever touched, but beneath that skin she could feel the
hard strength of muscle that could do anything, that knew no limits. Beneath his skin he
felt like he was made of steel and polished marble.
This is the Devil! she thought. Evil incarnate, and yet he kisses like a man, only
better, and he feels like a man, only better When does this evil start? When does it get
scary?
The devil lifted his mouth from hers and he was smiling, and Lydia lay there with her
eyes closed and her mouth open both in astonishment and in invitation to be taken again.
He dipped his big head and licked her tongue and picked off a drop of saliva, and Lydia
groaned, feeling that viscous strand stretch from his tongue to hers, then he kissed her
again, hard, taking possession of her as a man takes a woman.
Her eyes fluttered closed as her nostrils dilated wildly for breath, and she felt the tip
of his tongue sliding down her throat, past the point that made her gag to touch a spot in
her throat she never even knew existed, a spot as sensitive as a little clitoris that sent
heat rushing through her limbs and a gush of hormones into her system, swelling her
breasts and her pussy and starting some maddening, sucking contractions deep within her,
as if her body was already practicing to draw him in, needing him like she’d never needed
a man in her life.
It was then she realized that she was really about to fuck the devil, the master of
pleasure, the master of evil, the being who knew her inside and out. But where would this
evil come from when he knew her like this, when he knew just how to touch her, just how to
kiss?
He took her breast in his hand and squeezed her through the satin. He drew his forefinger
down between her breasts and the fabric parted as if his fingernail were a knife, then he
opened the dress and took her breast in his hand.
“Yes, Lydia, I know you,” he said. “I know all about you. Everything you’ve dreamed of,
everything you want…”
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