The Demon's Curvy Angel, page 1
The Demon's Curvy Angel: A Halloween Romance
Holiday Romance, Volume 1
Brill Harper
Published by Brill Harper, 2023.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
THE DEMON'S CURVY ANGEL: A HALLOWEEN ROMANCE
First edition. October 16, 2023.
Copyright © 2023 Brill Harper.
ISBN: 979-8223448631
Written by Brill Harper.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
One | Maribelle
Two | Maribelle
Three | Maribelle
Four | Lucrael
Five | Lucrael
Six | Lucrael
Seven | Maribelle
Eight | Maribelle
Nine | Maribelle
Ten | Maribelle
Epilogue | Lucrael
Sign up for Brill Harper's Mailing List
Further Reading: Bounced
Also By Brill Harper
About the Author
One
Maribelle
The bar throbs with the beat of the music, a heavy bass that thrums in time with my racing pulse. My friends chatter and laugh around me, a tray of shot glasses between us. We’ve got slutty nurse, slutty witch, slutty French maid, and me. Not slutty angel.
“Nurse” Gia offers me a shot glass. “C’mon. Celebrate. It’s Halloween.”
“I don’t want a hangover tomorrow.”
My new job starts Monday, and I want Sunday to prepare. Pick out my outfits, get groceries for the week, stress out...the usual.
My gaze wanders the room, skipping past goblins and ghosts until it lands on a figure in the corner. Black leather stretches across broad shoulders and down muscled arms. A pair of small horns jut from a mess of ebony hair, and when he turns, his eyes glow red in the shadows.
Heat floods my cheeks. I press my thighs together, acutely aware of the ache building between them. My heart just stutters at the sight of him, this demon stalking the edges of the room. Watching. Waiting.
Hungry.
His gaze finds mine from across the bar, and a slow smile spreads across his face, revealing the glint of sharp teeth. The bass line of the music seems to fade, the shouts and laughter of the crowd dimming until there is only him, this creature of sin and temptation gazing at me with eyes glowing like embers.
I lick my lips, and his smile widens. He begins moving through the crowd, the sea of revelers parting before him. Each step brings him closer.
Closer.
The ache between my legs grows, an emptiness I’ve never known and one only he can fill. My heart races as he approaches, each beat a staccato rhythm of need, desire, lust.
I have only one thought as he stalks toward me. A single word echoes in my mind, drowning out all else.
Yes.
Gia nudges me. “Shit. Mark is here.”
Her words cut through the haze of desire like a scratching record, and I jerk my gaze away from the demon’s smoldering eyes.
My ex, Mark, stands a few feet away from our table, his arm draped over the shoulders of his girlfriend, Tiffany. She gives me a smug little wave, her diamond engagement ring winking under the strobe lights.
Rage and humiliation rise in my chest. Mark hates this bar. He’s only here to taunt me some more. I lift my chin, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
Why is he dragging this out? We broke up six months ago so he could be with Tiffany. Why won’t he just go away now?
“Happy Halloween, Maribelle.” Mark’s voice is almost defensive, and I can feel Tiffany’s eyes on me. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
Right. I smile tightly, my hands clenching at my sides. “I could say the same to you.”
Because you hate this bar.
Mark shrugs, taking a sip of his beer. “Tiffany wanted to come.”
It’s then I take in their costumes. Tiffany is a sexy bunny, and Mark, wearing silk pajamas, is apparently Hefner. I roll my eyes. She’s fine, but I have issues with any man emulating that man, but most especially one I used to date. Gross.
“It’s been great catching up, Mark, but I don’t want to keep you,” I say. It’s been anything but great. He wanted me to see his skinny girlfriend wearing his ring. Mission accomplished.
I suppose it’s supposed to punctuate that I’m still single and still chubby. As far as I’m concerned, this is how I am happy to stay.
Mark nods at my friends. “I see you’re still attached at the hip to your girl gang.”
Like it’s a problem if I have friends?
“She’s here with someone tonight,” drunk nurse Gia helpfully replies.
“Right,” Mark says. “Sure she is.”
Hey, I could be here with someone. I’m not but I could be. I don’t really want to find a fake date to save face, though.
I clench my hands into fists, my nails biting into my palms. I won’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. I won’t—
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere, angel.” The voice is a silken purr, and a hand settles on the small of my back with a possessive warmth that spreads through my body.
It’s my demon man. I know without looking.
My girl gang gasps.
The devil turns me into his muscled arms and flattens me to his broad chest. His mouth crashes into mine, and I moan as his tongue slides into my mouth.
Okay, stranger tongue in my mouth. This is not something I am normally okay with, but I will make an exception for the hottest man I have ever seen. Or smelled. My God, he’s delicious.
I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. The hard length of him presses against me, and my body responds eagerly. I’ve been waiting my whole life to be kissed like this.
Mark coughs awkwardly, and my own personal demon pulls away, sizing Mark up in a way that makes it very clear who the alpha male is in this situation. Mark looks away first, submissive to the powerful presence of my rescuer.
It’s a moment I’ll savor forever.
Satan = 1; Cheating Bastard = 0
“Whatever,” Mark mutters, grabbing Tiffany’s hand. He stalks away without another word, but not before I glimpse the unease in his eyes.
“Thank you,” I say softly, tilting my head back to meet the demon’s gaze. His eyes glow like embers in the dim light, seeing into the darkest parts of my soul.
Those are some amazing contact lenses.
Up close, I see he’s painted a tattoo of swirling black on one side of his face. An interesting choice, not one I’ve seen on demon costumes before. This guy is next-level devil.
“You’re welcome, little angel.” His smile is slow and sinful, a promise of wicked delights to come. “Now, I believe you owe me a dance.”
My girl gang sighs.
I take his hand without hesitation, letting him lead me onto the dance floor. The music pulses around us, primal and seductive, as he pulls me close to him. He towers over me, indeed making me feel petite. His little angel.
His hands settle on my waist, scorching brands that ignite my skin even through the layers of my costume. I place my hands on his shoulders, acutely aware of the firm muscle beneath.
We move together effortlessly, our bodies finding a rhythm as if we’ve danced this way countless times. He dips his head, lips brushing the shell of my ear, and a full-body shiver wracks me.
“What’s your name, little angel?” he asks, his voice a husky caress.
“Maribelle.” I cling to him as the song changes, the beat turning wild and frenetic.
A secretive smile plays about his lips. “I’m Lucrael.”
The name rolls off his tongue like a sin, as dark and enticing as the man himself.
“Lucrael.” I taste the word on my lips, savoring the way it feels to speak it.
His eyes flash at the sound, hands tightening on my waist to pull me impossibly closer. I go willingly, drowning in the heat and scent of him, of leather and spice with an undertone of smoke.
The song ends but he doesn’t release me, leaning down to slant his mouth over mine. I melt into the kiss, clinging to him as a raging inferno consumes me from within, burning away any lingering doubts or fears.
“Come home with me,” I say.
Two
Maribelle
I am not the girl to take strangers home with me. I’m not even drunk. I don’t know what has come over me. But I know what I want to come over me.
All over me.
Maybe it’s the thrill of the moment, the dangerous allure of the “demon” in front of me. But before I can take the invitation back, Lucrael’s lips curve into a wicked smile.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he says, his hand slipping into mine as we make our way to the door past my girl gang, each staring at me with wide eyes. Past scowling Mark and jealous Tiffany.
How’s that ring feel now, Tiff?
Outside, the night air is cool and crisp, a welcome relief from the heat of the club. I’m surprised to find Lucrael has a car and driver waiting for us out front.
So my demon savior is rich, too. It’s possible that this is a dream. I hope I don’t wake up before the orgasm. I haven’t had a really good one in a long time.
Lucrael’s hand rests on my thigh, his touch sending sparks throughout my body. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but at the same time, I can’t imagine stopping.
Though I am buckled in securely,
I’m trapped.
At the mercy of a demon.
I feel his impressive arousal pressing against me, and I grind my hips against him, seeking more friction. I don’t care what the driver thinks. Maybe he’s used to it. Maybe this happens three times a week.
I should care, but I don’t.
The car ride is a blur of lust and desire, Lucrael’s hands and mouth never leaving my body.
We stumble into my apartment, a tangle of lips and limbs. By the time we reach my bedroom, I am completely divested of all traces of angel, as naked as Eve before the unfortunate apple business. Lucrael still wears his boxer briefs and horns.
He’s gorgeous, all hard muscle and sinew. But it’s his eyes that captivate me, glowing with an unearthly light, bright embers in the shadows. I shiver at the intensity of his gaze, feeling exposed, laid bare.
This is the part where I start worrying about my extra pudge. I mean, he’s here in my bedroom, so it must not bother him. I wasn’t wearing any shaping underwear or anything to conceal my body type, so he must be into it. Some men prefer the cushion. But it’s hard not to feel self-conscious with a veritable god in your bedroom, you know? Especially after the parting words in my bad breakup included the phrase “too fat.”
Before I go down that road too far, I am pushed against the wall and Lucrael is devouring my neck and my chest with his hot mouth.
“So beautiful,” he rasps, reaching out to trace the curve of my stomach, caressing it with adoration. “My angel.”
I lean into his caress with a soft sigh. “Yours.”
A growl rumbles in his chest at my surrender. He cages me against the wall, one hand braced beside my head while the other cups my breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers. I whimper at the sensation, desire coiling tight within me.
“Say it again.” His voice is rough with barely leashed need. Commanding.
“I’m yours,” I breathe.
He claims my mouth in a searing kiss, all tongue and sinful pleasure. I cling to him, consumed by the inferno raging inside me, burning away any lingering doubts about giving myself over to this stranger.
We tumble onto the bed and he rises over me, braced on his forearms. His eyes glow brighter now, twin flames in the darkness, and when he smiles I glimpse the hint of fangs behind his lips.
When I look again, the fangs are gone. A trick of the light perhaps. I stare up at him, trembling with a mix of fear and longing. It’s easy to get caught up in the Halloween vibes and let my imagination run wild. I want to believe he’s something more than human, something mystical and powerful.
My dark prince.
His hand slides between us, his fingers caressing my sensitive flesh. I gasp, arching into his touch. He smiles, a wicked grin that sets my heart racing. He knows he has me, and he’s enjoying it.
“So wet for me,” he purrs, his voice a low rumble. “I must taste this perfect pussy.”
I moan in pleasure as he slides his fingers into my slick heat, exploring and teasing me. His tongue traces a line from my navel to my clit, licking and nibbling my skin until I’m squirming beneath him, desperate for more.
“Hold onto my horns,” he growls.
I wrap my hands around the ridges, my fingers tingling at the contact. He shudders at my touch, as if the devil horns are really a part of him.
What kind of costume is this?
And then I no longer care.
His tongue seems longer now, more serpentine, and he licks at my clit causing a pleasure that borders on pain it’s so intense. My body pulses, sensations rippling through me like waves in an ocean. Then he enters me with that tongue.
Holy hell.
He’s using it like a cock. It feels as if his tongue is forked or something. The tip moves separately from his deep thrusts, tickling my inner walls. I let out a loud moan and he chuckles, the vibrations of his laughter sending me even closer to the edge.
I’ve never been fucked with a tongue before. It’s savage and dirty and wonderful. Mark used to give me a few cursory licks now and then, but Lucrael uses his tongue as if it’s the main event. His growls and groans let me know he’s enjoying it too, and his fingers grip my hips, anchoring me in place as he ravishes me.
My climax builds until I’m sure I’m about to burst. I press my hips against him, my body desperate for more. He responds with a flurry of thrusts, pushing me closer and closer to the edge until I’m crying out his name.
When he pulls away, all I can see is glowing eyes and horns.
He’s not wearing a costume. He is the costume.
He is the darkness.
“Such a good girl,” he purrs. “Sleep now, angel.”
My eyes close as commanded, and sleep overtakes me.
Three
Maribelle
The early morning light wakes me from a deep slumber. I reach across the rumpled sheets. But my hand finds only empty space.
Disappointment wells in my chest. Of course he’s gone. A man like that would never linger until morning, not for a mousy thing like me. I’m not the type men pine for. How I even grabbed his attention last night is a mystery.
Maybe he thought it was hot to fuck an angel in white when he was dressed like a demon.
It was hot.
But we didn’t actually fuck. Well, except with his tongue.
The memory causes a sudden flush of heat to flood my cheeks. I can still feel his tongue inside me, still feel the pleasure that came with it.
But my demon lover never even got all the way naked. Which is a shame.
He didn’t even come. Which is another shame.
With a sigh, I drag myself from the lonely bed and shuffle to the bathroom. My reflection stares back at me, as ordinary as ever. My messy brown hair and tired eyes hold no allure or mystery. Lucrael probably forgot me the moment he walked out the door.
I turn the shower on hot, letting the steam cloud the mirror. As I step under the scalding spray, I try to hold onto the memories of last night - the brush of his fingers over my skin, the heat in his gaze, that magic tongue. But the details are already fading.
By the time I’ve toweled off and dressed, I’ve steeled myself against false hope. Whatever happened between us was merely a Halloween fancy, as temporary as our costumes. Best to tuck it away like an old photograph, a glimpse of a world too perfect to be real.
I have to focus on the present now. My new job starts tomorrow. I have things to do.
Gia texts me. “I require proof of life.”
I snap a selfie back to her.
“Is he still there?”
“No.”
My phone rings and my heart speeds up. I didn’t give him my number, but maybe...
GIA CALLING
Stupid false hope. I guess I didn’t steel myself as well as I thought.
I swipe to answer, determined not to get wrapped up in an obvious one-night stand.
“Tell me everything,” Gia says. “Do not leave one single detail out. God that was so cool how he swooped in and made Mark look like a tool. I mean, Mark is a tool so it’s not that hard. But damn, Maribelle. That demon was fine.”
“Yes, he was,” I agree.
“Okay, spill. Tell me everything.”
I tell Gia...most things. And then I do my errands and water my plants and try to forget the hottest night of my life.
Gathering my costume together from the floor, I realize I have lost my halo.
ON MONDAY MORNING, the office of Blackstone Enterprises is already a hive of activity when I arrive, people bustling about with armfuls of documents.
The receptionist has the largest to-go cup of coffee I have ever seen sitting on her desk. She sees me staring at it. “Still recovering from Halloween,” she explains.
“I feel that.”
“I think I got turned into a zombie. I’ve never had a hangover last this long.”
“You look really good for a zombie.”
