Demon's Fire by Emma Holly Page A

became a choked-back cry as Donjen ran his hands up and down the sides of Charles’s shaft. The caress was businesslike but wonderful.
    “You are big,” Donjen observed. “That is good. Both Darja and I like that.”
    Charles hadn’t been certain he wanted to combine this act with sex, but now he was glad Mr. Pahndir had convinced him he’d be missing out if he refrained. He told himself he wasn’t sorry he’d declined the demon’s offer to do both deeds himself. His current arrangements were as inflaming as he could handle. As it was, chills of pleasure streaked out from his groin, so powerful he wasn’t certain how much longer he could keep his feet.
    He wasn’t the only one burning up. Donjen’s pupils were huge black pools as he stroked Charles, and Darja was rubbing her breasts across Charles’s back like a cat in heat.
    “Can you feel my energy?” Charles asked Donjen. “Does it transfer just from taking me in your hand?”
    “It does,” the male confirmed. “And I will feel it even more when Darja makes you come.”
    His cousin said something in their language, apparently urging Donjen to hurry things along.
    “She wants your hot human shaft inside her,” Donjen explained. “We had better move you to the bed.”
    They had to help him; his legs were that rubbery. Luckily, the bed was firm and low to the ground, a simple silk-sheeted mattress on an ebony platform. Darja threw off her pale pink robes as if she couldn’t wait another second to be naked. She was pretty and delicate, her figure straight, her breasts barely there. She straddled Charles where he lay and flicked her straight dark hair behind her. As a rohn , she wasn’t entitled to wear it long, and it hung only a little farther than her shoulders. Charles reached for her, wanting her to enjoy this, too, but Donjen caught his wrists and held them.
    “No,” he said. “Darja likes to prepare herself.”
    Charles could see she did. She moaned as she ran her hands over her slender body, pulling out her tiny nipples until they turned red. Her pubis had been depilated, probably by some sophisticated Yamish means. The skin was as smooth and glossy as the sheets on which she knelt. When she ran one finger between her labia, Donjen’s hands tightened.
    He was kneeling on the mattress above Charles’s head, the only one of them still dressed. His erection pushed out the front of his loose blue robes, pulsing against them in excitement.
    Helpless not to, Charles wondered if the cousins allowed themselves to have sex with each other. Maybe sharing clients was as close as they got.
    “She will put her hand over your heart now,” Donjen said. “You may feel a sensation of tugging at your breastbone.”
    Darja’s hand was damp from stroking herself. She laid it flat across his chest and groaned softly.
    Charles couldn’t doubt this was a groan of ecstasy. She clutched her breast with her other hand, the grip so tight her reddened nipple squeezed out between two knuckles. Donjen spoke to her in their language, a soothing procession of foreign syllables. Calming, Darja opened her eyes again. She looked down at Charles’s rigid penis, and then into his eyes.
    “Now,” she said haltingly, “I take you.”
    Though he knew no human could overpower a Yama, instinct had him struggling against Donjen’s hold. Charles hadn’t registered much sensation when Darja touched his heart, but the moment her quivering passage pushed down his cock, he felt the energy she drew from him. Her wetness could not obscure it, or the involuntary jerks with which she undulated over him. It felt like she was pulling long ribbons of etheric force out of him—not only from his heart but from his cock. Once she’d sunk down all the way, she didn’t seem to want to move except to grind around him. She began to sob, with pleasure perhaps, or from the emotions that twisted out of him through his aura.
    “It burns her,” Donjen said, his voice a little husky as he