Pharon's Demon Read Free

sex. If his brothers had
not joined them, he might have lacked the control to see to her
disciplining first and taken her first. It was just the summer
heat, he told himself: the mindless mating frenzy that seized them
all when the sun blazed relentlessly in the abovelands, beating
down on their stony world, heating it—and their blood—until they
found temporary release with their sex partners.
    Unfortunately, there were few sex partners
below grounds. Only those women the abovelanders had cast out or
had marked for punishment. Pharon’s demons had no female of their
own and no hope for release from the burning heat the sun built
remorselessly in them unless they found their summer mates and
their eyes burned golden for the chosen one. Given the lack of
women here, the odds of that happening had seemed impossibly
low.
    And yet now—completely unexpected—he held a
female. A feral possession welled up in him. His . His mate.
He would make her so since the gods themselves had placed her in
his arms.
    “You are a lucky one,” called one of the
other warriors. They glided smoothly out of the shadows, as drawn
by the female’s presence as him. Would she enjoy sharing pleasures
with such a number of warriors? There was only one way to find out.
And, truly, he had vowed to show no mercy to the thieves who
thought to wrest their topazes from the mines, from Pharon.
    “Tell me your name,” he demanded against her
ear as the sun’s heat tore through him, thickening his cock
further. Would she take every inch of him when he crammed himself
into her sex? Or would she whimper with the agonizingly sweet
pleasure of just the thick tip, thrusting in and out of her greedy,
wet sex until she howled for more—and he gave it to her?
    Her breath huffed out in a small sigh.
    “Absolutely not,” she declared, shaking her
head. “There are conventions to be adhered to here. Name
telling—not one of them.”
    “Do not be stubborn, femi ,” he
crooned, letting his breath whisper over the smooth shell of her
ear. Good. She shivered. She was deliciously sensitive. Delicately,
he licked the curve, tasting her flesh and giving her the smallest
hint of pleasure.
    “No,” she protested, squirming in his
grasp.
    “Hold still,” he warned.
    “Make me,” she dared. Did she think that he
would not? What were the males like where she came from?
    “Spread them.” His leg kicked her own apart.
“Do as I say, little femi ,” he growled when she
resisted.
    She looked up—cautiously—and eyed the heated
press of male bodies surrounding hers. Their sibilant, hissing
language was likely as unfamiliar to her as the abovelander’s harsh
tongue was to the demons. The implants Pharon had insisted on made
it possible for him to understand her, but she would not have that
advantage. Of course, he intended to leave her with no advantage at
all.
    She would learn faster that way.
     
    ***
     
    He bent her ruthlessly over his arm. The
sharp crack of his palm sent heat blossoming across her cheeks.
Methodically, he paddled both sides of her ass until she wanted to
grab and rub the stinging cheeks—and then plunge her hand between
her thighs and massage her engorged clit until she screamed.
    Without stopping, he asked: “Is your pussy
wet? I smell cream.”
    She creamed more, both embarrassed and
aroused.
    His large hand shaped her ass almost
casually, tracing the seam. “Spread your legs more. Let me see for
myself.”
    The blacksuit parted, as it was designed to
do, beneath his stroking finger, exposing her flesh to his
view.
    She hesitated, curiosity welling alongside
the desire. What would he do if she refused? Would he be
deliciously inventive, or as disappointing as all the other
would-be lovers she had encountered in the course of her thefts? He
answered her unspoken question with a sharp stinging slap on her
juicy sex.
    She howled, arching up into his hand, dark
crimson shards of pleasure shattering through her. Oh, this was a
male who did