you lured me here. You’ve been calling to me for years.”
She shook her head and placed both hands on his rippled abdomen. “I never called forth a demon. You’re wrong.”
“I’m many things, but I’m never wrong.”
The clock by her bed changed. It read 12:59.
Abra lifted her hips and slammed down against his arousal, moaning. “You do feel good,” she told him.
He grasped her waist, trying to hold her still. “Not like that. I have to do the work.”
She reached down, her fingers trembling while she ran them across her clit. Pleasure burst through her body and an orgasm loomed just out of reach. If only he’d let go, if only she could keep going, but he’d anchored her in one place.
“ Please , say you need me.” His narrow face blurred for an instant. Val’s shifting eyes grayed. He thrust once, burying his cock as far as it could go.
She closed her eyes and threw her head back, her body shuddering for release.
Out in the main room, the clock struck one.
In a rush of hot air, his muscular body, slick with sweat and rigid inside her, disappeared. Abra fell backward in a frustrated heap, empty and alone. “Damn it!” She lifted her knees and punched the side of the bed. “What the hell is going on?”
She rolled off the mattress and stomped out of her bedroom, past the demon painting and into the shower to rinse away her frustration. Steam pooled in the air and though his physical form had left her, she felt Val in the room, his longing to return and his deep sorrow that she’d not given in.
“I don’t need you!” she shouted.
Abra scrubbed her body with soap and a washcloth until her fair skin pinked. She washed her hair, digging her nails into her scalp. “I don’t need anyone but me.”
Melancholy thickened in the tiny chamber, filling her and she knew it wasn’t her sadness. It wasn’t her loneliness. “You don’t know me,” she told him. “I don’t get lonely. I don’t need company or pets or friends. All I need is what I have. Go back to Hell where you belong.”
* * * *
At five that evening, Abra stood naked before the demon painting. She stared at it, contemplating his eyes. The red had faded. Only darkness and emptiness showed on the canvas. She heard nothing of his voice in her mind. Glancing around, she made sure the room was clean. Since the shower, she’d spent the hours scrubbing and returning the house to its usual pristine state. “I’ll fight you,” she whispered. “You can’t have me.”
Turning her back on him, she reached for her palette and daubed her fingers in three colors at once. She began on one of the grayed out canvasses and started over. “Angels. I paint angels. Beings of light. Messengers from God. Not the likes of you.”
This one bore great wings of green, pink and gold. He leaned against a small Grecian column, his loins covered by a red cloth. It was not Abra’s way to clothe her angels, but this night was different. She needed to prove she hadn’t fallen prey to whatever spell Val had woven over her. She smeared and created. Once the base was complete, she stepped back and frowned. “Pastels.”
Abra washed her hands, hurriedly slung on a cotton robe and went to sit on the porch while the acrylic dried. She stared at Val’s truck wondering where he might be. Where did a demon get a truck anyway? The ache of emptiness after having been filled by him haunted her body. She wanted to taste him, to feel his body joined with hers, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit any need for him.
Emotion burned through her mind, cold, empty, longing, loneliness. “Stop it,” she warned. “Just stop it now.”
“I need you.”
“You’re using me.”
Crickets chirped beneath the porch. Out in the fields, lightning bugs glowed and whizzed through the shadows. Their eerie green flashes made Abra think of Val’s eyes. She turned her attention to the blue-black night sky and the myriad stars twinkling amidst the blanket of
She shook her head and placed both hands on his rippled abdomen. “I never called forth a demon. You’re wrong.”
“I’m many things, but I’m never wrong.”
The clock by her bed changed. It read 12:59.
Abra lifted her hips and slammed down against his arousal, moaning. “You do feel good,” she told him.
He grasped her waist, trying to hold her still. “Not like that. I have to do the work.”
She reached down, her fingers trembling while she ran them across her clit. Pleasure burst through her body and an orgasm loomed just out of reach. If only he’d let go, if only she could keep going, but he’d anchored her in one place.
“ Please , say you need me.” His narrow face blurred for an instant. Val’s shifting eyes grayed. He thrust once, burying his cock as far as it could go.
She closed her eyes and threw her head back, her body shuddering for release.
Out in the main room, the clock struck one.
In a rush of hot air, his muscular body, slick with sweat and rigid inside her, disappeared. Abra fell backward in a frustrated heap, empty and alone. “Damn it!” She lifted her knees and punched the side of the bed. “What the hell is going on?”
She rolled off the mattress and stomped out of her bedroom, past the demon painting and into the shower to rinse away her frustration. Steam pooled in the air and though his physical form had left her, she felt Val in the room, his longing to return and his deep sorrow that she’d not given in.
“I don’t need you!” she shouted.
Abra scrubbed her body with soap and a washcloth until her fair skin pinked. She washed her hair, digging her nails into her scalp. “I don’t need anyone but me.”
Melancholy thickened in the tiny chamber, filling her and she knew it wasn’t her sadness. It wasn’t her loneliness. “You don’t know me,” she told him. “I don’t get lonely. I don’t need company or pets or friends. All I need is what I have. Go back to Hell where you belong.”
* * * *
At five that evening, Abra stood naked before the demon painting. She stared at it, contemplating his eyes. The red had faded. Only darkness and emptiness showed on the canvas. She heard nothing of his voice in her mind. Glancing around, she made sure the room was clean. Since the shower, she’d spent the hours scrubbing and returning the house to its usual pristine state. “I’ll fight you,” she whispered. “You can’t have me.”
Turning her back on him, she reached for her palette and daubed her fingers in three colors at once. She began on one of the grayed out canvasses and started over. “Angels. I paint angels. Beings of light. Messengers from God. Not the likes of you.”
This one bore great wings of green, pink and gold. He leaned against a small Grecian column, his loins covered by a red cloth. It was not Abra’s way to clothe her angels, but this night was different. She needed to prove she hadn’t fallen prey to whatever spell Val had woven over her. She smeared and created. Once the base was complete, she stepped back and frowned. “Pastels.”
Abra washed her hands, hurriedly slung on a cotton robe and went to sit on the porch while the acrylic dried. She stared at Val’s truck wondering where he might be. Where did a demon get a truck anyway? The ache of emptiness after having been filled by him haunted her body. She wanted to taste him, to feel his body joined with hers, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit any need for him.
Emotion burned through her mind, cold, empty, longing, loneliness. “Stop it,” she warned. “Just stop it now.”
“I need you.”
“You’re using me.”
Crickets chirped beneath the porch. Out in the fields, lightning bugs glowed and whizzed through the shadows. Their eerie green flashes made Abra think of Val’s eyes. She turned her attention to the blue-black night sky and the myriad stars twinkling amidst the blanket of