A Demon’s Guide to Wooing a Witch

Astaroth’s mouth was hot against Calladia’s. He kissed her furiously, and she matched his aggression with her own. They licked and ate at each other in a mutual devouring. When Astaroth’s tongue sank into her mouth, Calladia sucked on it, then bit his lower lip.

Astaroth groaned, then bit her back just as hard. There would be no quarter given on either side.

Calladia didn’t want mercy. She wanted to make him feel the same churning, burning need eating her up. Anger and aggression had melted into a lust so powerful, it scalded her skin and sent need pulsing through her.

She wanted to hit him, bite him, leave her marks on his pale skin. She wanted to hear him moan and know it was for her.

Calladia was half in his lap already. She straddled him fully, wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands landed on her ass and squeezed, encouraging her to rock against him. Even through her pajamas and his robe, she could feel the hard length of his cock, and she ground against him, gasping as sensation jolted through her. Her clit was sensitive and swollen, begging for a direct touch.

There was too much fabric between them. Calladia tore at his robe, struggling to get it off, but she only managed to get the fabric over one shoulder before giving up and hauling him close again, too greedy for his mouth.

He tasted like smoke and spice. Like pure, distilled sin.

“You drive me mad,” he said against her lips.

“Same, jackass.” She yanked on the short strands of his hair—careful to avoid the healing cut near his left temple—and was rewarded by the surge of his hips, nearly lifting her off the bed.

Arousal pooled between her legs, soaking her underwear. This was madness, but she couldn’t bear for it to stop. Not now that she finally had her hands and mouth on him.

He surged beneath her, flipping her to her back on the bed. Calladia gasped and squeezed his hips with her thighs.

“Got you,” he whispered against her lips before kissing her hard and deep.

Calladia’s competitive streak flared. She rocked her hips, grinding against him, then inserted her hand between their bodies and gripped his cock through the fluffy white fabric of his robe.

He gasped and tipped his head back. “Lucifer, I want you so badly.”

Calladia took advantage of his moment of distraction, snapping her hips up and shoving his shoulder to topple him off her. She tried to pin him down, but he didn’t cede the upper hand. They rolled once, twice . . .

Then toppled off the bed.

Astaroth landed beneath her with a grunt. He kept kissing her though, and then his long, clever fingers were sliding down her backside to press between her legs. He stroked her through the pajamas, and Calladia forgot about their power struggle. She needed his fingers and his tongue on her, then the hot, thick length of his cock splitting her open.

“More,” she gasped.

Astaroth dumped her onto her back on the floorboards, then knelt between her legs and started unbuttoning her onesie. He fumbled with a button, and she realized his fingers were trembling.

“I’ve fantasized about this so much,” he said once he’d bared a slice of skin. He shoved the halves apart and stared at her exposed breasts with an expression of awe that quickly turned to greed. His head dipped, and he took her nipple into his mouth.

Calladia jolted as he sucked hard. This wasn’t a slow, gentle exploration; it was an explosion of lust, as rough as it was essential. “Touch me,” she begged.

Astaroth lifted off her nipple, then tore at the rest of her buttons. He planted a hand between her breasts, then dragged his fingers down her sternum to her stomach, where he circled her navel.

Calladia’s belly quivered. She arched her back, silently ordering his fingers to explore further. He obliged, trailing them over her bare stomach before pushing the unbuttoned fabric of her onesie aside. Then Astaroth was toying with the edge of her underwear, tracing the hem with maddening slowness.

Calladia bucked her hips up.

Astaroth chuckled. “Impatient?”

Yes, she was. Now that she’d crossed that line, Calladia didn’t want to stop. She wanted to ride this impulse as far and as fast as she could before reality caught up with them.

To speed things up, Calladia ripped off the tie of Astaroth’s robe, then reached beneath the fabric and wrapped her hand around his erection.

“Ah!” He collapsed forward, planting his free hand next to her head. He dropped his forehead against hers. “Witch, you feel so good.”

He kissed her swiftly, and Calladia smiled against his mouth. She moved her hand up and down, learning the feel of him. The skin over that stiff column was velvety soft and hot as flame, and she wildly thought that the feel of him might be burned into her palm forever.

Astaroth’s fingers finally slid under the edge of her panties. Calladia shivered as he brushed over her pubic hair, then delved lower. He slid one finger between her labia, and they groaned in unison.

“So wet,” he said. He stroked her, gathering the moisture on his fingertips, then began rubbing her clit.

It was Calladia’s turn to cry out. Her heels scraped the ground as she writhed, and her hand sped up on his cock. He matched her speed, and soon the air was filled with animalistic panting and grunting as they chased their mutual release.

Of course it would be like this between them, she thought hazily. A mutual unraveling, half fight and half collaboration. Neither was the type to lie back and take pleasure without giving it as well.

Astaroth slipped two fingers inside her while his thumb worked her clit. Heavy, liquid pleasure gathered between Calladia’s legs, and tension built in her lower belly as the orgasm approached. Just a little more . . .

A loud thump came from the deck outside. Calladia and Astaroth froze, hands still positioned intimately.

“Maybe it’s a raccoon?” Calladia said.

The thump was followed by a sound of wings being shaken out. Big wings. “Cawwwwwd moooorning!” came the distinctive, rasping voice of Tansy.

“Damn it,” Calladia whispered, horniness shifting into frustration. “Not a raccoon.”

“Bloody hell.” Astaroth groaned as he slipped his fingers out of her, and Calladia wanted to scream at being denied her orgasm. “Cockblocked by a griffin.”

Calladia didn’t like being clitblocked either. She reluctantly released Astaroth’s cock and glared at the door. Why was Tansy interrupting them when checkout time wasn’t until eleven? Given the light, it didn’t seem much past dawn, and if Calladia’s vagina had led her into making this terrible choice, then by Hecate she wanted to enjoy it before the cascade of regret sure to come.

“Your frieeeeeeends are here!” Tansy screeched.

Calladia sat bolt upright and shot Astaroth an alarmed look. They weren’t expecting anyone, which meant whoever had come to visit was likely not a friend at all.

Astaroth scrambled to his feet and reached for the dresser drawer he’d stashed his clothes in. Calladia dove for her own clothes, which were heaped untidily next to her backpack. Onesies were cozy but not good in a fight, so she dressed in jeans, a flannel shirt, and boots in record time. She pulled a length of yarn from her backpack and started weaving it between her fingers, setting the framework for a defensive spell.

Astaroth was now fully dressed and holding the fireplace poker like a sword. He motioned to the door, indicating he’d take the left side. Calladia nodded and positioned herself to the right, out of the line of fire should someone come barreling through.

“Lovebiiiiiirds?” Tansy called. “Are you caaaawwaake?”

Calladia cleared her throat. “Yes,” she said.

“Awake, armed, and dangerous,” Astaroth said.

The griffin let out a series of screeches. It took Calladia a moment to realize they were laughing. “Frieeeeeeeeends,” Tansy repeated, then burst into a rapid-fire explanation Calladia only caught half of. Something about hugging? And . . . a scare? She shared a baffled look with Astaroth.

“Did you say they’re lovebirds?” a man asked, loud and clear. A man with a New Zealand accent.

Oh, shit. Calladia reran the griffin’s words through her head. Tansy had said rugby, not hugging, and were instead of scare.

The werewolf pack had found them.

“Do we try diplomacy or shock and awe?” Astaroth whispered.

Calladia considered. They were trapped high above the ground in a room with one exit, outside of which stood at least one werewolf. Astaroth, with his demon immortality, would survive a jump to the forest floor, but Calladia would break a lot of bones at best.

“I hate to say it,” she whispered back, “but I think we should attempt diplomacy.”

Astaroth made a face. “Can’t you cast a spell and turn his organs inside out or something?”

“Did you know werewolves have excellent hearing?” came Kai’s response from outside.

Calladia winced. “We need to workshop your definition of justified violence,” she told Astaroth. Then she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I’m going out there.”

“I reserve the right to bludgeon him to death with this poker,” Astaroth said, waving the implement in question.

“I can still hear you,” Kai said.

Waiting wouldn’t accomplish anything, so Calladia unlocked the door and flung it open to reveal Tansy, Kai, and Avram, the brown-haired wolf she’d teamed up with during the brawl. She lifted her chin and marched out like a queen whose territory had been invaded. “What do you want?” she demanded.

Kai was dressed in charcoal slacks and a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to display muscular forearms. His left arm was in a sling, and the outline of a bandage was visible through the thin fabric of his dress shirt.

His right hand was behind his back. When he moved, Calladia braced herself for an attack, but instead, Kai produced a bouquet of red roses. “For you,” the werewolf said.

Next to Calladia, Astaroth made an outraged noise. He swung the fireplace poker at the bouquet, knocking the flowers to the floor.

“Oi!” Kai glared at the demon. “Mind your business.”

Tansy cocked their head. Intelligent black eyes darted between Kai, Astaroth, Calladia, and the bouquet, and then the griffin squawked and raked one leonine paw against the floorboards. “Not friiieeeeeends.” Their wings flapped in short, agitated bursts, and they snapped their beak at Kai. “Liiies. Bad customer seeeervice.”

“Why are you here?” Calladia asked Kai. “And why do you have flowers?”

Kai sank to his knees and clapped his right hand to his chest, then winced. Apparently he’d jostled his injury. “I had to see you,” he said. “It’s not every day a beautiful woman stabs me through the heart.”

Avram rolled his eyes. “She barely nicked your shoulder, bro.”

“It’s a metaphor, bro,” Kai replied. “But a woman who can fuck me up is the absolute dream.”

“Surprisingly,” Astaroth muttered, “we’re in agreement on that. But she’s fucking me up, not you.”

The two men eyed each other, visibly bristling. Calladia sighed. “So you came all this way to give me flowers?” she asked Kai. “At dawn?”

Kai’s eyes darted away. “Well, not entirely.”

Avram stepped forward. “Enough bullshit,” he said. “This is a job. You can flirt later.”

“What job?” Calladia asked suspiciously, looping more yarn around her fist.

Kai stood up. “Nothing terrible. Just a friendly bit of—”

“Bounty hunting,” the other werewolf interjected.

Calladia started tying knots.

Astaroth settled into a combat stance, holding the poker like a sword. “Has that Moloch bastard come to try to finish me off?” he asked.

Calladia whispered a spell.

Kai made a high-pitched sound and cupped himself. “Calladia?” he asked, eyes so wide she saw the whites around his brown irises. “That has to be you, right?”

Astaroth’s head whipped around. “What did you do to him?”

“Applied some judicious pressure to his testicles,” Calladia said. “Don’t get jealous.”

“You should be applying pressure to my testicles,” Astaroth muttered.

He didn’t need to remind her. Calladia was grumpy, tired, and sexually frustrated, and she had zero patience for weird werewolf bullshit. “Who sent you?” she asked. “Was it Moloch?”

“Don’t know who this Moloch bloke is,” Kai wheezed, still gripping his crotch. “Can you let up a bit?”

In response, Calladia tied another knot to increase the pressure.

“Hnngh.” Kai’s eyes rolled back in his head. “I might like that.”

“Oh, for Lycaon’s sake.” Avram turned toward Astaroth. “Word got around about the fight,” the werewolf said, “and a demoness commissioned us to find you. She says she’s your mother?”