A Demon’s Guide to Wooing a Witch

Astaroth was soaking wet and clammy with cold by the time they made it back to the tent, but he couldn’t care less. His heart raced with excitement, and his cheeks hurt from how wide he was smiling. It turned out losing a footrace wasn’t so bad if the consolation prize was getting to watch Calladia’s bare arse and strong legs leave him in the dust.

Dear Lucifer, her taste. It lingered on his tongue, an addictive mix of musky, tangy, and sweet. He would feast on her every chance she gave him.

The glow orbs she’d summoned had followed, casting golden light over her curves as she bent to unzip the tent. Every centimeter of her was perfect, from her plump pussy lips to the tangle of light brown hair covering her mound. He palmed his cock through his underwear, wondering if she’d let him go down on her again straight away or if she was sensitive enough to need a break.

She didn’t straighten immediately, instead looking over her shoulder with a wink and a waggle of her hips. “Leering, old man?”

“Yes,” he said with no shame.

She chuckled and ducked into the tent, and the summoned lights followed. Her silhouette danced across the tent fabric as she dropped to her knees, then crawled onto her sleeping bag. “Come on, then,” she called from inside.

Astaroth didn’t need to be told twice. He followed her in, pausing to wipe his feet on the towel she’d set at the entrance. His feet were cold and tender from running over bare ground, but he would have chased her for hours.

Calladia sat cross-legged on her sleeping bag, twisting her hair into a wet bun. Then she pulled a piece of yarn out of her pack and started weaving. “Ayorva en aerquí,” she said. The air inside the tent instantly warmed.

Astaroth sighed in relief as he finished zipping the tent shut. “Thanks.”

“Can’t let the delicate demon freeze to death.” She handed him a towel to pat himself dry, then leaned back, bracing herself on her arms. The maneuver had the happy effect of pushing her breasts up and out. They were perky, with puffy pink nipples, and a faint constellation of moles dotted the side of her right breast. He wanted to map every mark on her body with his tongue.

“You look like you’ve never seen boobs before,” Calladia said.

“Correction,” he said, hunching to avoid stabbing holes in the canvas with his horns. The lights swirled around him before settling into place at the peaked top of the tent. “I’ve never seen your boobs before.”

Amusement glimmered in her eyes. “Surely after six centuries they all look the same.”

“Absolutely not.” Astaroth loved breasts—and bodies—of all sizes and shapes, but he had to admit this pair had a stunning feature that set them leagues beyond any others. They belonged to Calladia. “I can confidently say this is the best pair of breasts in the universe. And if they were smaller or bigger or you only had one or none at all, it would be just as perfect.”

She wrinkled her nose. “How’s that?”

“Because you, Calladia, are perfect. Is your body a certified wonder that drives me wild with lust? Absolutely.” He lightly tapped the side of her head. “But what’s in here matters most.”

Her eyes softened, and she shifted, unthreading her crossed legs. She drew her knees up and spread her thighs, revealing her glistening pink center. “And what’s up in my head that’s so arousing?” she asked. “Is it the pigheaded obstinacy or the inclination to violence?”

“Both.”

“Hey!” She slapped his shoulder, though she was laughing. “You’re not supposed to agree.”

“I like obstinate, pigheaded brawlers,” he said. “I think you like being one, too.”

She grinned. “Maybe.”

“Isn’t that fortunate for us?” Astaroth returned her smile, enjoying how her breath hitched. His gaze dropped to her pussy. “Are you ready for me to go down on you again?”

“Again?” Her eyebrows soared. “Don’t you want me to give you a blow job instead?”

The thought of her smart mouth wrapping around his cock made it twitch in anticipation, but no self-respecting hedonist would skip indulging in her body as many times as she let him. “If that’s something you want to do, then I’m all for it, but I’ve been fantasizing about making you come for days. You really think one orgasm is all I want from you?”

“I was hoping for two,” she said. “The appetizer and the main course.”

He scoffed. Two? Two was for amateurs. She deserved so many orgasms she lost the ability to move. “Calladia, that first orgasm was just the aperitif.”

“I don’t know what that word means.” She sounded breathless. Her cheeks still held the pink glow of her pleasure, and he wanted to see that color deepen and spread across her entire body.

“An aperitif is an alcoholic beverage drunk before a meal to whet the appetite.” He grinned and snapped his teeth at her. “We haven’t even gotten to the appetizers.”

She shook her head. “Only you could turn dirty talk into a lesson on fine dining.”

“Speaking of dining . . .” He licked his lips. “I think it’s time for the next course.”

She scrambled back like a crab, laughing. “Astaroth!”

“Calladia!” he said, mocking her shocked tone.

“You can’t go down on me forever and not let me reciprocate.” Insecurity tinged her voice, the worry of someone who wasn’t used to receiving more than she gave.

“Forever might be a stretch,” he agreed, “considering my newly mortal state, but I’ll give it a go anyway.”

Before she could argue, because Lucifer knew the woman would find a reason to argue about anything and everything, Astaroth lowered himself between her legs. His shoulders pressed her thighs wide, and he hooked his arms around them to keep her in place.

Calladia let out a shocked noise when he licked her in a long stripe from back to front. She wriggled, but he held her down, then dipped even lower, circling her puckered hole with his tongue.

“Demons eat ass,” she said faintly. “Who knew?”

If she was able to commentate, he wasn’t working hard enough. Astaroth bent himself to the task with the thoroughness and patience of an immortal, tasting every centimeter of accessible skin. By the time he’d worked his way up to her clit, she was squirming.

He slid a finger inside her as he sucked her clit, and Calladia half sat up with a loud cry. She grabbed his horns and ground against his face, and Astaroth nearly came. Demon horns were practically another sex organ in the right circumstance, and shivers raced down his spine as her cool hands gripped him. He snarled and shook his head, rubbing his nose and chin over her.

“Get on your back,” Calladia ordered.

He made a noise of disagreement and slipped a second finger inside her. He crooked his fingers and dragged them out slowly, massaging her inner wall.

“Get on your back right now.”

Was she upset? Astaroth stopped instantly and knelt upright. “Are you all right?” he asked, swiping his forearm over his mouth.

Sweat beaded Calladia’s hairline, and she looked like she wanted to eat him alive. “About to be even better.” She planted a hand in the center of his chest and pushed.

Not upset, then. Good. Astaroth went to his back without a fight, curious what she wanted to do.

Calladia straddled his face, then swung her leg around to face backward. She tugged his underwear down, and then her mouth closed around the tip of his cock.

Astaroth let out a long, low groan. Calladia bobbed up and down, gradually taking more of him, then sucked her way up until the tip popped out from between her lips. That maneuver was followed by the swirl of her tongue around the sensitive crown of his shaft.

Battle lines had been drawn.

Astaroth tugged her down against his face, determined to make her orgasm fast and hard. He licked and ate at her ravenously, clutching her so close he could barely breathe.

Calladia moaned around his dick, then bobbed her head more aggressively, matching his energy. She wrapped her hand around the base of his cock and pumped in time with her movements, and Astaroth had to grit his teeth and focus on his technique to avoid coming down her throat.

Of course oral sex would be a competition between them. It was how they did things. And Calladia might be a fearsome competitor, but Astaroth was still going to win.

He rubbed her clit with his fingers, using the firm circles he’d found she liked best, while his mouth covered the rest of her with wet, sloppy kisses.

Calladia’s rhythm faltered, and she gasped for air. “Damn you,” she wheezed. “You’re going to make me come.”

“Mm-hmm,” he murmured against her, rubbing even harder. He tilted his head to nip her inner thigh, and Calladia exploded.

“Oh!” she cried. He could feel the orgasm rolling through her as her hips frantically jerked, and fresh, delectable wetness drenched his tongue. He lapped at her as triumph swelled in his chest.

When she finally sagged, pressing her forehead to his hip, he announced, “I win.”

Her laugh was half wheeze. “Ridiculous.” She shifted off his face, then turned and straddled him. Her face, neck, and upper chest were red, and her bun sagged to one side of her head. She looked messy and giddy with pleasure, and Astaroth felt the urge to beat his chest like a gorilla. Maybe point at her and grunt. My mouth did that.

Calladia stretched her arms high overhead, showing off the lean, muscled lines of her torso. Her powerful thighs flexed, squeezing his hips. Astaroth loved her strength and how comfortably she wielded it.

“Ready for another yet?” he asked, tapping his lips.

She laughed and leaned forward, planting her hands on his chest. “Are you trying to set a world record?”

“If you think three orgasms is a record, I need to educate you. Let me tie you to a bed for a few days and we’ll see what we can accomplish.”

She scooted forward until his erection pressed against her lower belly. “Maybe I’ll tie you up,” she said, gripping his wrists where they rested beside his head. She pinned them down as she leaned in for a long, deep kiss.

He tasted the two of them on her tongue, the combination simultaneously crude and sublime. This was what he’d craved badly enough to spend untold years on Earth: raw, animalistic passion, impolite and uninhibited. He wanted to drown in her.

“So,” Calladia said against his mouth. “Want to fuck?”

“Absolutely.” He could hardly believe this was happening. Their relationship—if it could be called that—had escalated quickly.

Then again, considering the two of them, was there another way for it to play out? Escalation was the name of their game, since neither of them backed down from a challenge.

Calladia nipped his lower lip, then sat up straight. She yanked a strand of hair off her head and started wrapping it around her fingers, apparently unwilling to get off him for long enough to grab a sturdier thread from her bag. She tied a few knots, then whispered, “Condom din convosen.” A gold foil packet dropped from thin air into her waiting hand.

“That’s a neat trick,” he said.

“It’s amazing what you learn in college.” She opened the packet and rolled the condom over his erection. Then she lifted up on her knees, notched his cock at her soaked entrance, and started sinking down.

“Bloody hell,” he choked out as he watched her take him to the root in one smooth stroke. Her pussy squeezed him so tightly, he couldn’t be sure if he was feeling the throb of his pulse or hers.

Calladia moaned. “Oh, that’s good.”

Astaroth had a reasonable amount of pride in his penis. It was large without being logistically challenging to accommodate, and he’d received many compliments over the years. But as Calladia shifted on top of him, murmuring about “big” and “thick” and “so full,” he felt elevated to the level of a god.

He gripped her hips. “Ride me,” he ordered.

Calladia braced her palms against his chest and lifted off him in a long, slow drag. When she sank back down, they groaned in unison.

How could this feel so perfect? Astaroth had had a lot of sex over the centuries, but nothing came close to the first few moments of being inside Calladia. The ground was hard beneath the sleeping bag, his hair was wet and smelled faintly sulfurous, and rain smacked against the tent fabric as a sudden wind threatened to tear the flimsy structure down, but he wouldn’t trade any of it for a more luxurious setting. After a lifetime of lies and political games, this moment was raw and real.

Calladia set a steady rhythm, her body arching sensuously with each roll of her hips and her arousal dripping between them. Her strong thighs held him trapped as her arse flexed under his fingertips, and Astaroth deliriously thought that she would make a hell of an equestrian. He mirrored her movements, and soon they were moving in tandem, graceful as dancers. Or as fighters, rather, battling together toward a common goal.

Astaroth moved his thumb to Calladia’s clit. She gasped and tilted her head back, exposing the elegant line of her throat, and her short nails dug into his pecs, a slight pain he wanted more of. He wanted her to claw him up, mark him as hers. He wanted to wear her possession on his skin.

Calladia’s rhythm stuttered, and he knew she was close. He took control, thrusting up in hard, fast strokes while his thumb pressed and rubbed. “Come on,” he told her through gritted teeth. “Come for me.”

Her inner muscles clenched, and then she was jerking and crying out, shaking all over as her cunt squeezed him in rhythmic flutters. He watched pleasure seize her, memorizing every detail: her opened mouth and tightly closed eyes, the flush sweeping her cheeks and upper chest.

She was beautiful.

Calladia collapsed against him, hands winding into his hair and stroking over his horns as she mouthed at his neck. “Your turn,” she whispered.

Thank Lucifer. The sight of her orgasm had brought him to the edge. He gripped her hips, thrusting up aggressively as tension seized him tighter and tighter. Then it released all at once, an explosion of sensation that left him gasping as he filled the condom.

Limp from pleasure, Astaroth wrapped his arms around Calladia and held her against his chest while his breathing gradually slowed. Her skin was soft and damp from exertion, and he felt the tap of her heartbeat against his chest.

Astaroth’s thoughts drifted, hazy and unformed. He wanted to stay in this blissful cocoon forever.

Eventually, Calladia shifted and groaned. “Gonna pee,” she said.

Astaroth nodded and released her, though not before an affectionate pat to her bottom. “Sounds good,” he slurred. “Prevent those UTIs.” He closed his eyes, listening to the rustle as she crawled to the entrance. When she unzipped the door, cold air swept into the tent, but he was too relaxed to care. His restless mind had stilled, the thoughts and feelings coalescing into one undeniable truth.

For the first time in his long existence, Astaroth was in love.