Three Demons Ch. 06

I'd like to thank my readers for staying patient with me. I hope this submission was worth the wait and exactly what you were waiting for. If you have any suggestions or requests for the next chapter, please post a comment or send me some feedback!

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I felt wetness on my face, a sloppy tongue. I groaned sleepily but a hint of a smile was slowly gracing my lips. The licking stopped and I relaxed, sighing and rubbing my face into my pillow with the hopes of dozing back into a deep slumber. The wetness came again and, though I felt like giggling, the noise I made in response was a wispy moan. The licking stopped when I started shifting in bed and I opened my eyes just a smidge. I saw golden eyes looking down at me, with black lids and white eyelashes, surrounded by white fur. I closed my eyes and snuggled into my pillow. Golden eyes, just like Everett's, I thought.

I finally woke up - in that new bed, in that new room, in a house they lived in. I felt well rested for once since the nightmare of my life began. I felt comfy and warm under the comforter, the pillows were soft under my head, and I could feel Felix's form still asleep next to my leg. I smiled because I had the urge to, as the sun unobtrusively seeped past the protection of the blinds at the window. I stretched lazily and felt the cool air hit my skin, a little moan slipping past my lips as I rubbed my eyes open. I got up in a very unladylike manner and sleepily walked out the door and across the hallway to the bathroom. On my way there my eyes strayed to the living room where the guys were lounging on the couch and I smiled at them before entering the bathroom and closing the door. I turned to look in the mirror and wasn't disappointed at what I saw.

I looked nice. Ignoring the bandage covering the cut on my cheek, my skin looked dewey and supple. My hair was a little ruffled, but in a sexy way. My complexion was fair, with no redness or dark circles. My lips were plump and pink, my cheeks flushed, and my eyes swollen into slits. I stupidly grinned at my reflection, touching the palms of my hands to my face to relish how pretty I felt just from sleeping one night without dreading the morning. My eyes continued to fall down my form in the mirror and my bliss was abruptly ceased. Familiarity washed over me and my mind suddenly clouded with dark thoughts of misery when I spotted the marks on my skin, evidence of the many years of abuse. I had scars and burn marks distributed on my arms and chest, on my stomach too but that was covered by the worn out tank top I was dawning. I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. I didn't look too bad, the marks had healed up well and the skin wasn't raised by much over each scar. But they were whiter than the rest of my skin, and it was all to obvious that they weren't self-inflicted.

It made me feel pathetic when I looked at them, they were nothing but proof that I was a wretched, unloved creature who was too weak to protect herself. I realized that I was safe now, but I wanted to be strong and independent. Three men were currently protecting me and, while I was immensely grateful, I didn't want to need their help. I wanted to be able to take care of myself, I didn't want to be seen as fragile. But I knew that I would be as soon as anyone saw my scars or heard my story. They'd see me as damaged goods, I just knew it.

I shook my head and sat on the toilet to relieve my bladder of its nightly burden. I didn't want to think about this first thing in the morning. I rubbed at my thighs nervously and tried to clear my thoughts. I stared down at my panties suspended on my calves, concentrated on them. There was something about them that bothered me. I stood up and pulled them up after flushing the toilet and let my fingers linger on the seam. Something bothers me about this, I thought. I then realized what it was. I'd walked from my room to the bathroom, walking past the living room where they were seated and even smiled at them, wearing nothing but a pair of panties and a tank. I smacked my forehead in despair and proceeded to wash my hands at the sink, dreading that I'd have to walk back to the room in the same state of dress.

I opened the door as quietly as I could manage and peeped past the door, the television was quieter than when I first walked past...or was that just my imagination? I leaned past the doorway and even took a tentative step into the hallway before I saw them. Erik's cheeky, lecherous smile made me shiver with delight. Oliver's bashful gaze directed at the floor and the red flush dawning his face made me feel a tad bit ashamed. And Everett's tight jaw and heated gaze on my form made my body heat and my breath hitch. I didn't know what to say, exactly. Didn't know whether this matter should be addressed and apologies should be made or if I should just act confident and casual. My thinking was that it happened, but so what? They'd probably seen a girl minimally clad before, this was nothing new or even scandalous. And I was sure guys like them had seen hotter girls in less clothes, I was nothing special. So I just ran away from the situation and headed to my room, shutting the door a little louder than I'd originally intended.

I sat on my bed for a while before getting up and slipping on a pair of jogging shorts to grab some personal effects and heading back to the bathroom. I didn't look toward the living room this time. I shut the bathroom door and smiled reassuringly at my reflection in the mirror. I should take a shower, that will calm me down, I thought with a nod. I started to strip and turned on the hot water. I grabbed my soap and shampoo, and my sponge and placed them on the built in shelving. Once naked I slipped in and practically moaned. The water was just warm enough to calm my nerves and I stood immobile for a while - just basking in the heat and steam.

Once I'd finished, I shut off the water and wrung my hair dry before wrapping myself in the towels I'd brought with me. I went up to the sink and started brushing my teeth. I stared at my flushed face and those forsaken eyebrows. I opened the bag of personal effects I'd brought and pulled out a pair of tweezers and started to pluck. They looked better now that they were groomed, less caveman-ish. I'd always had things like tweezers, I just didn't ever feel like pampering myself. I didn't have anyone to look pretty for, anyway. The fact that Erik's eyebrows looked better than mine had started to bother me, though.

I wasn't exactly shaved either. I'd never liked being anything but smooth, but again I just hadn't felt like dealing with the state of my legs before. I always covered myself up because, well, out of sight out of mind. I winced at the realization that I'd walked past them with this fur-cladden body fully exposed. The shame washed over me but I shook my head in an effort to disperse the thought. "It's okay, just pretend they don't care," I repeated to myself, promising to deal with my bodily hair at some point in the future. Lucky for me my hair was fine and fairly unnoticeable, they probably hadn't even noticed and wouldn't notice unless I pointed it out to them.

When I was finally dressed and ready, I walked out of the bathroom - throwing my personal effects onto my bed as I walked past my room - and seated myself on the couch next to Everett as that was the only open spot. Erik was sprawled on the loveseat and Oliver was sitting in the armchair. "Good morning," Everett purred with a warm smile, sliding his arm onto the back of the couch behind my head. A pleasant heat was radiating off his form and I tried to inch closer to him to bask in that warmth.

"Good morning," I replied with a smile, while looking up into his golden eyes that seemed to flicker with an inner flame and shine. Tricky lighting, I thought, my smile becoming broader.

"You're wearing barely anything, love. Haven't you noticed its snowing outside?" Everett asked.

I took a moment to think of how to respond. I watched his eyes sweep over my body, watched him look away to bite and lick his lip. "To be honest, I'm a little cold," I quietly replied, hoping Erik and Oliver were too preoccupied with the TV to tune in.

"Well, come here," he responded, just as quietly, a knowing smile gracing his face. I scooted closer until I was flush against him, with my head resting on his chest. He grabbed a blanket from I haven't a clue where and pulled it onto me. It was small, covering just my back, but my ass and thighs were still cold. Erik looked over at us and I turned my head away to avoid his gaze, a little embarrassed.

Erik gets up and sits next to me, lying down on top of lower half. His head resting on my hip and his arms wrapped around my thighs, his body covering the rest of my legs. My eyes widened in shock, but I dared not look at him. "You're legs looked cold," he murmurs, Oliver scoffs at that.

"You know, I had an interesting dream," I blurted, trying to change the vibe in the room.

"Did you?" Oliver quipped, turning his attention to me, and lowering the volume of the TV.

"Yes," I began, "I kept seeing wolf eyes that looked a lot like yours, Everett. They had that same gold hue. With white fur and white eyelashes." Everett smiled at me, petting my hair with his huge hand.

"That is interesting," Everett commended.

"Almost coincidental," Erik remarked, snidely.

"Indeed," Oliver said, eying Everett.

"Is there something I'm missing here?" I asked, shrugging away from Erik and Everett. They were all quiet. I stared at Oliver, my eyes begging for him to tell me the truth. He shook his head no and turned back to the TV. I got up and headed for kitchen, rummaging through it for ingredients to an easy meal. I heard Everett get up with a sigh just a moment later.

"Oliver, its time we head out for work," Everett said, his voice void of even a hint of cheerfulness.

"Sounds about right," Oliver replied. I heard their heavy footsteps as they walked toward the door.

"Goodbye, Freya," Everett said.

"Bye," I replied, without looking their way. I was focused on slathering peanut butter and jelly onto a couple of bread slices. I heard the door open, both of them walk out, and then the door shut again. I finished making my sandwich and reentered the living room to sit in Oliver's chair.

"What is that?" Erik asked. I looked to him, his face was twisted with disgust.

"Um, PB and J," I replied.

"No, that's not a proper breakfast," Erik criticized.

I chuckled. "I think it's a perfect meal," I said, biting into it.

"It lacks protein," he complained.

"Peanut butter has protein," I corrected.

"Not as much as an egg. Or two," he countered. I didn't reply, I just kept munching on my sandwich. I focused on the TV in an effort to ignore his piercing, critical gaze. After a moment he asked, "Do you know how to cook?"

I sighed, trying to contain myself. "Why does it matter?"

"I have a feeling you don't know how to." I could hear the smile in his voice.

"So? Not like you're going to teach me right this second," I replied, coolly.

"That, miss, is where you're wrong," he said. I looked at him then, his face was split in two by a giddy, almost childish grin. He stood up and pulled the plate and sandwich out of my hands, setting them aside on the coffee table despite my protests. He took hold of my hand and dragged me over to the kitchen. He started rummaging through the cabinets before saying, "How about you help me out? Grab some eggs and bacon, sweetie." I did as he asked and placed them on the countertop next to the stove. "Now," he said, before placing a mixing bowl, a whisk, a butter knife, and a pan onto the countertop and stove, "Lets begin by turning on the stove to medium heat."

I stood there, waiting for him to do it. He stared at me for a moment or two and I realized he was waiting on me. "You want me to do it?" I asked.

"Well, am I to do everything?" he returned with a sigh.

I shook my head no, and fumbled to do as he'd asked. I turned on a gas range and looked up at him. "Good girl," he said, "Now, the butter's next to the stove. Use the knife to cut some and put it in the pan." I pulled the top off the glass butter dish and did as he instructed. "No!" he cried.

I froze. "What's wrong?"

"That's way too much butter," he scolded me, grabbing my wrist and guiding my hand to cut what was his idea of just the right amount. "We'll take baby steps," he cooed into my ear, his breath hitting my hair. His other hand took hold of my free hand and he started guiding me by my wrists on what to do. I could feel the heat of his breath each time he exhaled when it hit my neck, my hair blowing as a result to tickle at my skin. He helped me crack the eggs with just the right amount of force, had me throw the shells away and mix the eggs until they had a perfect yellow consistency to them. He rested his chin on my shoulder to look at what we were doing and would whisper encouragements like, "Good girl. Such a fast learner," before pressing his chest into my back. Each time he did that, I felt his crotch brush up against my ass and each time it happened I would swallow the lump that was forming in my throat. The first few times it happened I felt nothing that could be risque, so I tried to relax my nerves. He told me to grab another pan for the bacon and I did, placing on the stove to medium heat and he took hold of my wrists again. He continued to guide me, moving my wrists like they were extensions of his hands. He had me mix the eggs in the pan until he decided they were ready at which point I was instructed to dump them onto a plate.

I sighed with disapproval. I'm not even hungry anymore, I thought. All this food would probably go to waste because there was no way I would be able to finish it. I still had the sandwich waiting for me in the other room, I wasn't just going to throw it away.

The smell of bacon started to spread throughout the kitchen and I heard him deeply inhale against me. He pushed into me again, but this time I felt something. I felt something hard brush up against my ass and I swallowed anxiously. He had me turn off the stove completely and then nothing. We simply stood there in silence. I could feel the heat of his breath hit my back, right between the shoulder blades and his hands gripping my wrists, almost pinning them in place. I heard him gasp and shakily exhale just before closing the space between his body and mine. He let go of one of my wrists momentarily to brush my hair aside and push it over my shoulder, baring my neck to him. He gripped my free wrist again and leaned in closer, his breath now hitting the bare skin at the back of my neck. I shivered each time he exhaled, the nerve endings in my skin buzzing with electricity. "Erik?" I whispered, my voice small and hesitant.

He groaned from deep in his stomach, the noise similar to a throaty growl. "Say my name again," he practically moaned, before pressing his lips against my neck. I shuddered at the contact, a quiet whimper escaping my lips. I couldn't handle this much stimulation on my neck. I tried to shrug away from him and he just pressed up against me, the bulge at his crotch smushed against my backside. "Please Freya, say it again," He whispered against me, before sliding his warm, wet and oddly textured tongue against the back of my neck. I gasped and shivered, he cooed softly and continued to lick me until I felt my stomach heat up and puddle. A familiar sensation of heat and wetness hit me between the thighs and my mind started going blank. His tongue felt hard and bumpy, like a cat's, and at this moment it was stimulating my already sensitive neck to push me past my breaking point.

"Erik," I breathed. He growled against me and bit the back of my neck hard before ramming his crotch against my ass, grinding it into me. He thrust into me so hard I started to pound against the stove and it would creak as it bumped into the wall. I moaned, liking the way he felt against me and found myself arching my back to better accommodate him and feel it against my already pooling sex. He let go of one of my wrists to slide his hand under my pajama shorts and I tensed with anticipation. He slid his fingers under my panties and I gasped when they made contact with my clit. He started slowly at his next task, rubbing my clit in circles while his lips left sweet kisses on my neck and shoulders. Then he picked up the pace, rubbing me at an impossibly fast pace until I was shuddering against him.

"Come for me, love," his tone twisting the words into both a demand and a plead. I tensed at once, orgasming against his hand and holding my breath as I did. His hand was immobile against my throbbing clit for a moment, as he waited for me to catch my breath. But it seemed he wasn't done with me. He pulled his hand out from under my clothing and spun me around. He watched me with those quizzical green eyes for a moment, a brighter green than I was use to and so beautiful they paralyzed me in place. He leaned in and kissed me, his plump lips soft and urgent. I opened my mouth to let him in and he slipped that textured tongue of his inside, twisting it against mine and even sucking on my tongue.

He broke away from me and I couldn't help but blurt, "Your tongue feels weird."

He chuckled. "Does it?" he asked. I nodded. "Well," he began. "Should I stop using it on you?"

"N-no," I whimpered. He smiled that signature predatory smile of his. I continued, "I like how it feels."

He licked his bottom lip and bit it, I did the same without thinking. "Your mouth tastes so good. I wonder what your lips will taste like," he said, eying me for a reaction. I blushed at his words and looked at the ground, trying to hide my face with my hair. He grabbed my chin and forced me to look up at him. "Imagine that for a moment, Freya," he said, "Imagine my weird tongue licking that pretty little clit of yours and tasting the inner-most parts of you."

I flushed a deeper red, my cheeks were on fire. I couldn't believe he'd just said that. My mind was almost offended but at the same time, I imagined myself sitting on the edge of one of the countertops in the kitchen, shorts dangling off an ankle with my legs spread apart, his face between my thighs, his tongue on my sex. I moaned and my knees gave in, he grabbed me and helped me up before I had a chance to fall. "I knew you'd like that one," he said with a smile. He picked me up and carried me like I was a newly wed bride to my room, where Felix was still asleep on the bed. He threw me on top of it and Felix awoke startled, "Go on, Felix, get out," Erik commanded, lightly smacking him on his side. Felix jumped off the bed and trotted out the door, turning slightly to look at us, but Erik slammed the door shut before he could look me in the eyes. Erik started to pull off the gray long-sleeve shirt he had on I started to get second thoughts.

"Wait, Erik. This is happening really, really fast. I just moved in yesterday and things are going to get weird between all of us if we do this-" I couldn't finish my statement. He'd pulled off his shirt and there he was, chiseled and lean with a runner's body. His skin was a perfect hue of olive, his pectorals and shoulders large, but his stomach was just a set of washboard abs.

"You were saying?" he said with a knowing smile. He teasingly ran his hands over his body, leading my attention to his bulge which was outlined even from underneath his sweatpants. "You know, Freya," he started, "I've wanted you from the moment I saw your face when Everett brought you home. I looked at those plump lips of yours and the only thing I could think about was tasting them and seeing them on me. I watched you for a little while as you slept and I touched your soft, fair skin with only the thought of leaving marks and bruises behind. And in the morning when I first saw you awake, saw those beautiful silvery eyes of yours, I knew that I would not be satisfied until I saw them pool with tears as I fucked you until you screamed my name."