Chapters (60)
- DAW Books Presents
- HAPPY HOURINHELL
- Copyright page
- Contents
- Dedication
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- prologue
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- interlude
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- interlude
- thirteen
- fourteen
- interlude
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- interlude
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- thirty-eight
- thirty-nine
- forty
- forty-one
- forty-two
- forty-three
- forty-four
- forty-five
- forty-six
- forty-seven
- forty-eight
- epilogue
Even as Vera cursed me she rubbed herself all over me, tore open my shirt and dragged her heavy breasts across my skin, across my face, for a moment even pushing one swollen nipple into my mouth like a grieving, hysterical mother trying to suckle a dead child. It was all I could do not to bite down, but she hadn’t hurt me badly yet, and for the moment I was in her power, the good arm and the bad one both immobilized. My only hope was to let her work out her anger and hope that afterward she would listen to me. But what could I tell her? I didn’t love her, of course, and even if I hadn’t discovered this truth about her I still wouldn’t have been able to give her what she wanted. Whatever was in me that could love belonged to Caz, and seeing her at the theater had rung me like a bell, so that even as I struggled to keep Vera’s nails from my eyes I was still vibrating with that powerful, astounding need for the Countess of Cold Hands.
Weeping now, Vera climbed down and grabbed my balls. I tensed, terrified that I would find out what it was to lose something even more important than my hand, but she seemed intent on pursuing her parody of passionate affection. She began to stroke, lick, and squeeze me, holding my cock against her face, muttering both endearments and the ugliest kind of threats. It wasn’t what you’d call a romantic situation unless you come from the outermost rooms of bondage and degradation, and I’ve seen too much ugliness in my years on Earth to enjoy that. Not to mention my well-known aversion to pain. But Vera was determined. She tugged and squeezed, she kissed me all over, she even put a finger up inside me, nudging until I hardened against my will. Then Vera slid up my body and sat on my chest, naked from the waist up, her hair now completely down and wild on her shoulders, her pale breasts, flushed unevenly, swinging above me like church bells.
“I would have waited,” she panted, still holding me by the root, still squeezing me with her hand to keep the blood in me, to keep me rigid. Her eyes were fixed on mine. They had changed again, her stare wide-eyed and full of something that looked like desperate affection. “I could have waited until the time was right, darling. It has been a long time, but I have gone a long time before. I wanted it to be perfect!”
She was squeezing my cock so hard I could barely speak. “It doesn’t have to be . . .”