How to Love a Pink Demon (Demon Series Book 3) by Sherrod Story

Author:Sherrod Story [Story, Sherrod]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2019-03-18T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter twelve

Steele was quite traditional when it came to man woman stuff. It’s why she’d had so few lovers. She’d never admit it, would probably shoot any motherfucker who even suggested it out loud, but the union Miles described would have been perfect for her – if it was between two humans.

She sighed. Shit. Was nothing ever easy? Her life was one mini disaster after another. She was a professional criminal. She broke the damn law every single day and routinely, voluntarily, put her life in danger. Now she was half in love with a fucking alien. Reiko was gonna laugh her ass off when she found out.

Steele could hear her now: “Your ass won’t give a rich, fine, well-educated man the time of day, and now you shacked up with the ultimate foreigner!” Bitch.

She spread her legs wider, rubbed her nether bits against his still hard cock, and felt the heat spike in the body beneath her. She wiggled until she had him where she wanted him, and slowly, with his help, impaled herself.

It felt even better this time. Her body stretched more quickly. Perhaps her coochie remembered his bright pink dick. She smiled against his skin.

“What?” he whispered, hips rocking harder against hers.

“I think my girl remembers you.”

He laughed, delighted. “I think you’re right. And thank God.”

“You’ve said that before, about God. You do believe in him?”

Miles groaned. “Yes. You want to talk about religion now?”

She squeezed herself inside, massaging his dick rhythmically and laughed softly. “No, I suppose not.”

There was no more talk after that, but they communicated extremely well. Her moans meant it was feeling good. His grunts meant it was feeling great. The slap of their skins and his balls against her flesh when he covered her back was like its own little symphony of ‘yes baby, more’ and 'right there, please.’

If anyone told her that sex could raise the tiny hairs on her arms, legs, ass, that it could cloud her mind like a drug, make her ovaries damn near cry out for seed, she’d have rolled her eyes. Sex had always been good. Orgasms were nice, real nice with the right man, and fortunately they weren’t hard for her to get.

As for men, they could be entertaining. But she couldn’t say she’d ever given them much of her time. Considering her preferred lines of work, she hadn’t run into many good ones. She found one in high school for a time. But like she told Miles, the streets took her beau with a bullet. She had some more luck in the Army. That hadn’t ended well either, though not because of her lover. Since then two worthwhile men had shared her bed for a while before she drifted away.

The last one was Patty, her some time, night time freelance gig. A rich friend of a friend of Tommy’s, he was beautiful, tall, Italian, a dream in bed, and she could be herself with him. He could care less if she opened her backpack and started counting drug money in his bed.

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