The Summoning (Part 2)

He did not come the next day, or the day after, or even the following week. Jane told herself she didn't care, and that one evening was hardly a reason to expect anything more. Sadly, she'd made the mistake of telling Lia, who passed the story on to her boyfriend during what Jane suspected had turned into a rather intimate evening by the fireplace. By the end of the week, Jane had to endure a steady stream of whispers from her friends and even the guards she'd warned about Mark's visit. In their eyes, she had either been used--by a demon, of all things--and then abandoned. Or, more likely, invented the whole story out of sexual frustration.

When her ex approached her after dinner and offered to lend her his dick, Jane's patience finally snapped. "Hope a thousand of demons fuck you, Tom!" With that, she retreated to her room, pulled the crimson book from its hiding place, and flung it open. She could summon Mark again, of course. The problem was she had no idea whether he wanted to be summoned. For all she knew, he could be in bed with his wife, busy putting little demons inside her.

Jane grimaced.

"'I will visit you after work', my ass," Jane muttered to herself.

A knock interrupted her thoughts. Before Jane could answer, the door opened a crack, and Lia peered inside.

"We're going to celebrate surviving our last practical session. You coming?"

"Thanks, but I'll stay put."

"Jane, you can't spend the whole night sulking in your room." Her friend stepped inside, then glanced at the crimson book on the desk. She hesitated, her gaze lingering on the book a moment too long.

"What's going on in here?" Tom asked, poking his head around the doorframe. "Still waiting for your imaginary friend to come back?"

Lia shot Jane an apologetic look before catching Tom by the arm and steering him away. Jane slammed the door behind them. Then she found the spell and began to read.

Mark appeared in front of her almost instantly, holding a sheaf of papers in one hand. He wore a dark, impeccably tailored suit, and for a moment, he simply blinked at her before glancing around the room. His expression darkened.

"Flower." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You can't just summon me whenever you feel like it! Thank the gods I'd just finished my part of the presentation."

Heat crept up Jane's neck. She hadn't actually considered that he might be busy. It was the middle of the night; she'd assumed he'd be asleep. But what if he'd been driving? She could practically see the newspaper headline.

TRAGIC ACCIDENT LEAVES A DOZEN ELDERLY LADIES DEAD. MAYOR BANS DANGEROUS HORSELESS CARRIAGES.

Mark caught the look of horror on her face. "It's okay, flower," he said softly. "If anything, you've just saved me a very long and nauseating teleportation home."

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

Mark lowered the papers in his hand and studied her face.

"What happened, Flower?"

She looked away. "Everyone thinks I made you up." She cringed as soon as the words left her mouth. Gods, she sounded like a child.

"Ah." Mark leaned against her desk. "And naturally, your first instinct was to drag me across several time zones to prove them wrong."

Jane winced. "When you put it like that--"

"Is there another way to put it?"

"You promised you'd come after work. I even went to the Treasury looking for you, but they told me no one named Mark worked there. Not even a Mark-the-demon-accountant-with-the-hot-bod." She offered him a sheepish smile, remembering the demoness who had practically shown her the door.

The tips of Mark's ears turned faintly red.

"I meant I'd come after my work trip," he explained.

Jane met his eyes. "You never mentioned a trip."

"I was certain I did."

"You didn't."

"I'm sorry, flower. I wasn't thinking... clearly at the time." For a moment, neither spoke. Jane's gaze wandered over his suit, lingering on the broad line of his shoulders and the way the fabric tapered neatly at his waist. It was annoyingly difficult to stay cross with him when he was standing so close. "And Jane," Mark added, breaking the silence, "we have at least five Marks in my department alone."

"I figured that demoness didn't like me very much the moment I saw her."

"Elisa? Tall, blonde?"

"The very one." Jane narrowed her eyes, recalling the name on the badge. "Are you sleeping with her?" Gods, why had she asked that? Why did these things keep coming out of her mouth?

Mark didn't answer. Instead, he pulled Jane closer and buried his face in her hair. "I still like you," he murmured. He drew back just enough to set the papers on her desk, only to hiss as a sharp edge caught his finger.

Jane immediately took his hand. "Let me see."

"It's fine, flower. Already healed." Mark held up his hand. "See?"

Jane turned his hand over, examining the tiny bead of coagulating blood on his finger with sudden professional interest. "And how long would it take you to regenerate an entire hand?"

"Thinking of cutting mine off?" He smirked. "A couple of weeks, maybe."

"Would it work just as well as the original?"

Jane's scientific curiosity got the better of her. "Wait. If demons regenerate that well, how does sex work? Does the hymen grow back every time?"

"If the same tissue is damaged often enough, eventually it stops regenerating." His lips curved into a smile.

"But we generally prefer to--" His hand slid slowly down her back, tracing the curve of her spine before settling firmly on her ass. "--take our time stretching things out."

"I've been thinking about you, flower," he whispered against her ear. "Every night. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the trip."

Heat pooled low in Jane's belly. His breath brushed her temple, and his hand tightened on her ass as he drew her closer.

"Let me stretch you out," he murmured, his lips grazing her cheek. "Make up for all this miscommunication."

"I should make it up to you first."

"Oh?"

Her gaze dipped down his body. "I hear I'm very good with my mouth."

His smile widened. Before Jane could say another word, he slipped an arm around her waist and lifted her clean off the floor. She gasped, clutching his shoulders as her legs wrapped him. Even through the clothes, she could feel the hard length of his cock pressed against her.

He crossed the room in a few swift strides and tossed her onto the mattress. She was still catching her breath when he leaned over her, shrugging off his jacket. His fingers fumbled with his shirt buttons. Jane reached up to help, her fingers brushing his as they worked.

His shirt fell to the floor. Jane's palms slid over the hard planes of his chest, savoring the warmth of his skin. He radiated heat. When she looked up, his pupils had dilated until his irises were little more than thin, glowing rings of gold.

Her breath caught. Mark noticed. Of course he noticed.

Jane hooked her fingers into his waistband and tugged it down. His cock sprang free, thick and pulsing, the head flushed crimson, a bead of clear pre-cum glistening in the dim lamplight.

A low growl rumbled in his chest. Up close, she caught the scent of him beneath his expensive cologne.

Jane shifted to the edge of the mattress, and Mark stepped between her parted knees. She tilted her head back, holding his golden gaze for a moment before reaching for him. Her fingers curled around his cock, barely meeting. With her free hand, she caught his hip, then slid her palm around to cup his ass, urging him closer. Mark's breath hitched. His gaze dropped to her hand.

"You've been thinking about me?" he rasped.

"Every single second since you left," Jane whispered.

She leaned forward, breathing in his scent, and took him into her mouth, her lips stretching wide. Her jaw tightened with the effort. Salt and a faint metallic tang lingered on her tongue. She eased forward, inch by inch, until the pressure at the back of her throat made her eyes water.

Mark's fingers threaded through her hair. A low, ragged groan escaped him, and his grip tightened for an instant before easing. Jane's hand slid lower, her palm cradling the warm weight of his balls. She squeezed gently and began to bob her head.

The wet sounds of her mouth and Mark's increasingly uneven breaths filled the otherwise quiet room. Jane glanced up through her lashes. His head had fallen back, his jaw tight, his fingers flexing in her hair.

"Enough," he gasped, his voice breaking. He tried to pull back, his hips jerking involuntarily. "I can't... I can't hold... long."

But she wanted to see just how far she could push him. She tugged his balls gently guiding him deeper into her mouth, sucking harder. He tried to resist, but a moment later, he came with a broken groan, struggling in vain to hold back and spare her the mess. Too late--his release streaked her shirt and spattered her face. He looked down at her, breathing hard, his sperm glistening on her cheek. His golden eyes were dark with pleasure, a crooked smile tugging at his mouth.

"Fuck, Flower," he muttered, a little annoyed with himself for coming so soon again. Then he grinned down at her and reached for the hem of her shirt, helping her pull it over her head. "Well, now we've got time to stretch you out properly."

He bent over her, taking one nipple into his mouth while rolling the other between his fingers. His free hand slid around her waist, easing her back onto the mattress without breaking contact. Then he caught the waistband of her skirt and drew it down over her hips and thighs. The fabric bunched around her calves as he pulled her closer, leaving her legs tangled in it.

A soft moan escaped Jane as his fingers tugged at one nipple and his teeth grazed the other. The contrast sent a shiver through her, and she arched into his touch. His palm glided down her belly, warm against her skin, then paused just above her most sensitive spot. She shifted impatiently against the sheets. When his fingertips finally brushed her clitoris, she caught her lower lip between her teeth, her stomach tightening as he traced slow circles around it.

"Breathe, Flower," Mark murmured against her skin. He took her nipple between his teeth again, then soothed it with his tongue, his fingers never losing their steady slow rhythm. Jane's grip on the sheets loosened. She turned her face toward him, her hips moving in small, instinctive motions beneath his hand.

Her breath snagged as his fingertip slipped between her folds, sending a warm flutter through her belly. Her thighs trembled, then loosened as he eased a finger inside her. She let out a shaky sigh, her toes curling against her skirt as a sudden shiver rippled up her spine. Her hand closed around his wrist, guiding him subtly, and she bit her lip, struggling to suppress the involuntary sound that escaped her when he found just the right angle.

Mark glanced up at her, a faint, knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Beautiful," he murmured, brushing a kiss against her hip. Jane rolled her eyes, though the effect was rather spoiled by the smile tugging at her own lips. She threaded her fingers through his hair, gently urging him closer, and he obliged, pressing another kiss to her skin. The warmth of his mouth lingered long after he moved away, and she found herself watching him with an impatience that made him chuckle.

His chuckle gave way to a wicked smile as he shifted lower on the bed. His finger pressed against the sensitive spot inside her, moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm, while his tongue traced the tender skin just above her entrance. Jane's breath caught, her stomach tightening. Her hips lifted from the mattress, instinctively chasing the steady pressure, and she grabbed a fistful of his hair. "Right there--oh, gods, don't--don't stop--" The words broke apart on her lips, barely making it past her breathless gasps.

He lifted his face to meet her gaze. "All those years of education, and you can barely string two words together."

"I can talk perfectly well--oh!" Jane's protest dissolved into a gasp as he picked up the pace. She tightened her grip in his hair, her back arching off the mattress. Damn him. She'd had a perfectly good comeback a moment ago, but now she couldn't remember a word of it.

Mark reached up with his free hand, cupping her breast and giving her nipple a brief squeeze. The curl of his finger inside her and the hot slide of his tongue worked together, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Everything else seemed to fade away. His hand slipped from her breast and drifted down her stomach, leaving her skin almost aching whenever his touch moved on. He paused at her waist, holding her steady for a moment before continuing lower.

When he reached her folds, he gently pushed one aside, letting his thumb brush upward over her clitoris before returning to it with his tongue. Jane wriggled free of the skirt tangled around her calves and wrapped her legs around his head, guiding him closer. His other hand never lost its steady rhythm. Meanwhile, his free hand slipped beneath her hip, traced along her thigh, and finally reached for hers. Jane caught it and squeezed as hard as she could.

The pressure in her lower belly tightened into an unbearable knot. Then came the lightest brush of his teeth against her sensitive skin, and that was enough. Her thighs shook. The tension finally snapped, sending a shudder through her. She cried out and clung to him until the last tremors passed. Then she sank back against the mattress, staring at the ceiling, her limbs heavy and her mind pleasantly blank.

"No..." she moaned, her voice thick.

Mark pulled back and looked up at her, a flicker of concern in his golden eyes.

"No?" he echoed. "I thought you enjoyed it, Flower."

"I did," she panted, still trying to catch her breath. "But I didn't want it to end so soon. You cheated me!"

Mark smiled. He eased her onto her side and settled behind her, his chest pressed against her back. "I'm not going anywhere tonight, Flower. And I'm tele-lagged. Tonight, we fuck for as long as you can stand me."

"Or as long as I can stand," Jane said with a smile.

He kissed her temple, then hesitated.

"But you've had sex before, haven't you, Flower?" he murmured into her hair.

"I noticed you were very tight," he murmured. "And I notice now that you're having far too much fun making me guess."

"I'm not a virgin. Don't worry about it," she said a little too quickly.

"You sound as though you're not entirely sure of that yourself," he remarked.

Jane hesitated, then shrugged. "Some people believe a virgin's blood can cure any disease. My boyfriend back in college collected mine during our first year. He sold it, and we split the profits."

Mark went very still.

"Your boyfriend did what?" His voice got quiet.

"Nobody forced me," Jane said quickly. "Besides, he said it would make my first time less painful."

"And did it?"

Jane's jaw tightened. "We never got that far."

"And you call demons dirty creatures," Mark muttered. "At least we don't dress up greed as affection and call it doing someone a favor."

"We broke up a few weeks later," Jane said. "And with the others, well, I never really had time to, you know, fuck."

"Ugh. Others? Plural?"

Jane turned in his arms and kissed him gently. "Don't worry. You can torture them whenever you have some spare of accounting time. I'll provide you with a list."

"You'd better," he muttered, pulling her closer.

Jane smiled against his chest, waiting for another remark, but none came. A moment later, his breathing had grown slow and even.

She lifted her head to look at him. He was fast asleep.

So much for fucking all night.

Jane shook her head, smiling to herself, then turned around and settled comfortably against his chest.