“I am not slacking!” I protested, snatching the book from the floor, wiping a bit of drool from the cover. “I’m … reprioritising, for the short term. This ball needs to go off without a hitch, to buy us a bit more time to … complete the experiment.”

I hadn’t realised that Hell Hounds could roll their eyes until my pair did it in unison. Was I really that transparent?

I appraised the book in my hands. It was very well worn. How many times had she read it? And … how many scenes did she keep returning to …?

I really should not want to know the answer to that …

“What else did you come across in this book?” I examined the spine, feigning a casual demeanour and fooling no one.

“Well!” Beezle began, his expression delighted. “There was this one chapter where⁠—”

“Humans think that devils have forked tongues!” Bub howled. “And they use them to access both her … downstairs holes at once!”

“I was just getting to that part, Bub!” Beezle grumbled. “We think that was Jemma’s favourite scene. There were … fingerprints on those pages.”

“Her downstairs … oh …” I gave up all pretence of not caring and frantically flipped through the pages, needing to confirm exactly what was suddenly making my breeches so tight.

“Don’t spoil it for yourself, Boss!” Beezle said gently, rearing up onto his hind legs and pushing me until I sat down hard on the edge of my bed. “Read it properly. You need to understand the context of their love story.”

I almost swallowed my tongue.

But I settled back on the pillows and opened it to chapter two—the place I’d managed to get to when I fell asleep next to her, in her bed, less than a week ago. And had woken up with … feelings.

I started to read.

* * *

“This is not sustainable!” I muttered, shaking water from my hair as I rinsed away the evidence of my fourth consecutive orgasm. I stepped out from the shower spray and clambered into one of the less bubbly hot springs. The last thing I needed was the vigorous bubbles of my usual spring stimulating me.

I’d finished the book. Every filthy, dark and … badness help me, every sickeningly swoony romantic moment of it.

And now all I could think about was recreating all those moments … with Jemma.

I wondered, did she picture me in the role of the devious devil, who when trapped by a demon hunter maiden, managed to seduce his way out, only to snare her in turn, making her crazed with lust … all the while falling in … in love, with his little prisoner?

Did Jemma … touch herself … bring herself pleasure while thinking about me? Would she slip her fingers inside herself, fuck herself, imagining it was my fingers?

And … if the maiden hunter could fall in love with her devilish captor … could Jemma Bliss …