Hot cum exploded from the tip of his cock, sending his body into a state of ecstasy. He groaned as the release took him hard and made him forget his pain, his isolation, and his dreaded curse. He was free, floating above his body—even better than driving his Jeep with the top down on a spring morning.
So. Good…
After several long moments, his mind sank back to reality, leaving a smile on his face. “I think it’s your turn now,” he mumbled.
Wait. Who the hell am I talking to? Who the fuck was in his bed?
Damien jackknifed upright, eyes wide open. It was morning. In front of him was his private sitting area with the panoramic view of the city. He was in his bedroom.
How did I get here? He lifted the sheets. He was naked. And yes, he’d come. “What the hell?”
“Oh! You’re awake!” Pet appeared, hovering in his face.
“Did you just…” He narrowed his eyes. “I swear to gods, little fairy, I will obliterate you if you ever do that again.” Fucking sex fairies. No boundaries! “I do not require that sort of service from you or anyone.”
Pet crinkled her nose. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You were touching me while I slept!”
“Nope. I was in your closet playing with your underwear. They needed more holes.” She popped something in her mouth and chewed.
She was eating his boxers? “If it was not you, then who?” he growled.
Pet swiveled toward the foot of the bed. Her little eyes went wide, and then she spit out whatever she’d been eating. “Oh, Sky. That’s pretty dirty.” She snickered. “You’ll have to teach me that.”
Damien looked in the same direction. Nothing there. “Are you…are you speaking to Sky?” he asked Pet.
Pet nodded. “She said she just watched you jerk yourself off in your sleep. She thought it was hot.”
“Get. The. Fuck. Out. Both of you!” he yelled.
Pet shrugged. “Want me to leave Gorgonzolina?”
“Gorgon-what?”
“The demon you rescued.” Pet pointed to a lump under the covers at the bottom of his bed.
What the hell? Rule number one about love-sucking demons: don’t ever let them sleep in your bed. They drain your energy, and you wake up feeling ten times more tired.
Damien was pissed. And wet, too. “Everyone out. You, too, demon.” He was about to lose his shit.
Hilarious, tailor. You’re sixteen again and having wet dreams.
“Shut up.”
Damien got up, took a shower, and dressed in a pair of loose-fitting black slacks and a soft button-down blue shirt. The burns on his legs were almost healed, which was good, but the skin still felt raw. He pulled off the dirty sheets and threw them in the hamper in his closet. He’d deal with that later.
At the moment, he was too livid and focused on the clown show in his house.
He went downstairs, following the noises in the kitchen. With the exception of his carpeted closet and the natural stone in the bathrooms, the entire home had blond bamboo floors. Most of his furniture was what he would call classic modern—clean lines, neutral colors, minimal decorations. Mostly because the look went with the modern house, but also because he was a very private person—for obvious reasons—and had to do the cleaning himself. The less stuff to dust, the better.
He entered his immaculate, all white kitchen—white marble counters, white cupboards, white appliances. White was more efficient to spot clean.
Pet and the little brown demon sat at the breakfast bar, talking to an empty chair.
“Ah. Here he is.” Pet fluttered over to the cupboard, grabbed a white ceramic mug, and set it on the counter. She then went to the coffee maker and picked up the carafe.
How did she fly carrying so much weight? Who gives a crap? Get her out of here, he thought.
“We were talking while you were having your man-tantrum upstairs,” said Pet. “If we’re going to be living together, Damien, there have to be rules.”
Damien snarled as she poured an entire cup of sugar into the mug. “What are you talking about?”
Pet nudged the mug toward him. “Remember? You said I could stay until I found a new home.”
Little flying nut! “I never said—”
“And Sky here is anchored to you,” Pet added, “so she can’t go anywhere. Not really. She also said you probably wouldn’t remember her telling you that after you died in the explosion and were sent to the Underworld.”
He’d died?
Pet continued, “Then there’s Gorgonzolina, here. She has nowhere to go. Right, Gorgonzolina?”
The Chihuahua-looking brown furball stared at the floor, avoiding eye contact.
“She doesn’t speak much,” Pet said. “I think they did bad things to her. But I told her you’re a good man—when you’re not running people over with your car—and you’d let her stay, too.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Damien walked over to the counter, grabbed a fresh mug and poured some coffee. He took a sip. Wasn’t half bad. Just missing the scotch. Which he would absolutely need today.
He turned, leaning his body against the counter. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you fine women, but you cannot live here. This is my home, and—”
“Is that how you thank me?” Pet said. “Oh. I’m interpreting for Sky now.”
“Thank her? For what?” he asked.
“She says it wasn’t easy getting you home yesterday so you wouldn’t end up arrested for blowing up that house.”
“I didn’t blow it up,” he protested.
“The cops don’t know that,” Pet argued. “Also, you had no pants on. Also, they found two dead bodies in the garage. The Browns. Also—”
“Back up. The Browns were in there? So who lit the place up?” He’d figured the Browns had done it, attempting to cover their tracks. “Wait. How the hell did you get me home?”
“Sky drove.”
Damien blinked. A ghost drove my vintage Porsche? “I don’t even want to know how you pulled that off, but I’m certainly not thanking you. And, no, I’m not changing my mind. You cannot stay here. Not even you, Sky. So find someone else to anchor to.”
The little brown Chihuahua whimpered, still staring at the floor.
He couldn’t deal with this right now. He had to report to the gods today, and he had nothing solid to bring them.
His mind quickly shuffled through the moments before the explosion. The cruelty, the torture, the horror those living beings went through. The only thing he came away with was a headache and leg burns.
And me. Don’t forget me, tailor.
Oh yes. Lucky, lucky me. His dark friend was back, thirsty for blood and violence.
Damien set his mug in the sink. “I need to go to my shop and check on things. Gorgonzolina, I will introduce you to Bonbon tonight. You may leave with him in the morning and go do whatever love-sucking demons do.”
He went to the door leading to the garage and flipped on the lights. His red Porsche was covered in dents, scratches, and a black tarry substance.
“Sonofabitch.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “These motherfucking…” He couldn’t wait to be rid of them all.