Damn Me: A Paranormal Demon Romance (The Demonology Series Book 4) Read online

  Damn Me

  The Demonology Series

  Book Four

  By

  Felicity Brandon

  Copyright © 2020 by Felicity Brandon

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: [email protected]

  This book is entirely a work of fiction. The author does not condone, nor endorse any of the acts in this book.

  First edition June 2020

  Cover design by Eris Adderly.

  Editing by Personal Touch Editing.

  Download your FREE Felicity book here.

  https://felicitybrandonwrites.com/

  Sign up for my newsletter and receive a FREE sexy read here!

  https://felicitybrandonwrites.com/newsletter/

  “Satan is so much more in earnest than we are—he buys up the opportunity while we are wondering how much it will cost.”

  ― Amy Carmichael.

  Prologue

  Solomon

  Time stretched out in front of me, swirling like the green fires that swept around the perimeter of Hell. It was endless and compelling, just like the duties set for me by my master, Satan—the heady responsibility of representing him while he was Earthbound, of acting on his behalf and fostering all the anger of the world. Not that I minded. Naturally, I did not. It was a great honor to be trusted by the lord of all perdition—the greatest distinction of all—and anyway, I had Tara now, the nubile little mortal curled up at my side. She was the only one who could take my wrath and make it her own, twisting it into the hottest lust I had ever known. It was the kind of desire Master Asmodeus would be fervently proud of.

  “Master?”

  I turned at the sound of her haunting tone, dismissing my unraveling thoughts to find her sprawled seductively on the bed across the room from me.

  “Won’t you join me, Master?”

  “Later.”

  My voice sent a caution, warning her not to play the temptress when I had other salient matters to attend to, but there was no real conviction in it. Tara had been quite the distraction since I had returned to the dark realm, her submission growing on me more with every day that passed.

  “Yes, Master,” she huffed, rolling onto her side like a small child in a tantrum.

  I shook my head, rising from my seat to wander in her direction, my feet moving faster than any human and my tread as light as air, both ensuring she never heard the advance.

  “Perhaps you would like to explain that tone of voice, young lady.”

  I loomed over the bed beside Tara, and she practically leapt at my sudden proximity, her green eyes widening with shock.

  “M-Master?” She scrambled backward, her racing heart thudding in my ears like a bass drum. “I thought you were working?”

  “Well, indeed, I was,” I purred, edging onto the silken sheets toward her. “But then your petulant side started to show, and I realized it was my little mortal who needed my attention, so I guess work will just have to wait…”

  Tara gulped, eyeing me as I closed the distance between our bodies. She was naked, just as I liked her, while I wore skin-tight leather trousers and an open burgundy shirt.

  “I didn’t mean to be petulant.” Her tone was contrite, but I could already sense the desire burgeoning in her core, the arousal rising to mist her mind and cloud her better judgment. The same arousal that had led her to me in the first place once her revenge was complete. “Forgive me, Master.”

  “You will always be forgiven.” I raised my palm, lifting her body from the sheets until she levitated inches above the bed. “You know that.”

  “I have upset you?”

  She caught her lip between her teeth as she hung there. Tara had learned how powerful I could be and knew better than to resist, but still, I could see the tension in her limbs and the flicker of fear in her deep eyes.

  “You have my attention,” I corrected her, arching a brow at her flushing face. “Which is, I assume, what you wanted to achieve?”

  “I just missed you.” Her gaze lowered, and in her mind, I could hear her scattering thoughts. She had wanted me to join her, but now she was unsure. Was I really angry with her or just teasing? Tara just could not tell. “I’m sorry, Master.”

  “There is no harm done,” I assured her, lowering her flimsy little frame back down to the bed before me. “And as I said, your master shall always forgive you, but first, you must suffer for that sullen display.”

  Tara shifted on the sheets, her pulse accelerating. “S-suffer?”

  “Mmmm.” I smirked at the vulnerability in her eyes. In the past, I had relished that look, but for quite different reasons. I would have seized it and tormented the mortal further, knowing in the end, my wrath would pulverize them, but now, things were different. They had always been different with Tara. Now, I sought that flicker for my own lustful purposes. I would still torment her, but this time, the pain would only lead to pleasure. “It has been too long since I punished you.”

  Her lips parted, memories of the last time I threw her over my lap, flooding her consciousness until pools of heat bloomed in her cheeks.

  “Yes, Master.” She replied coyly. “Yes, I think it has.”

  There were no words of protest, no complaints I was overzealous in my responses, and no fear. Tara saw the opportunity to be taken in hand again, and she wanted it. Just as she had done right from the start.

  She needed my discipline like oxygen.

  “Then let us rectify the matter.” I beckoned her forward with one finger, and with a small, salacious smile, she crawled toward me, her delicious breasts tantalizing me with her approach. “Get over my lap and submit.”

  I did not have to tell Tara twice. She was right there at my hip, ready to surrender and receive the brunt of my palm or whatever penalty I chose. Watching in awe, I enjoyed the view as she settled over me, her arms stretched out over her head, while her feet splayed naturally on the other side.

  “Fifty strikes, Ms. Levinson.”

  She turned her head to meet my gaze at my verdict.

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Unless you require more, of course, in which case, I will give you a chance to beg for those once the fifty are delivered.”

  Her gaze fell between her arms, and she nodded. “I think I might, Master.”

  I bit back the grin that wanted to surface with her admission. If I knew anything about the wanton little mortal I had captured and claimed as my own, it was this—she was wanton in her desire and could take a considerable spanking before she pleaded for mercy. With Tara, it seemed too much was rarely enough.

  Lifting my palm, I brought it crashing down against her pale, prone flesh. Her delectable ass was still rosy from the last impromptu spanking she had earned, but there was no bruising or lasting damage. I had promised to hurt, but not to harm Tara, and for once, I meant it. Since I had made the commitment to tether her soul to me, things had changed, or more specifically, I had changed. I understood the ramifications of the ritual all too well. I knew what it meant for Tara… and for me.

  It meant an eternity of each other.

  It meant long after her mortal life was over, she would still be here with me, upturned over my lap
or in any other delightful position I fancied.

  It meant forever.

  “Why are you here, little mortal?” She tensed at my words as the second swat resonated over her cheeks. “Why do you deserve to be spanked?”

  “I was petulant, Master.” Her breathy reply hardened my already excited erection. “I was rude to you.”

  “Yes. You. Were.” I punctuated each new word with a fresh smack to her backside, reinforcing the point by strengthening the intensity of each strike. I knew my little mortal relished the sting of my palm almost as much as I reveled in the act myself, but this was about our collective passion. The spanking served another important purpose as well. It would help to teach the lesson that to live with her demon master, Ms. Levinson would need to learn to toe the line. Stroppy and willful performances would be met with stern penalties and likely ensure she would not sit comfortably for some time. “And what do belligerent little girls get?”

  I grinned at the way she writhed at my question, having chosen the vocabulary intentionally to humiliate and as such, excite her further.

  “Punished, Master.”

  She pushed the answer out between gritted teeth, and all the while, I peppered her reddening behind with fast, hard slaps. They reverberated around my chambers, creating the sweetest melody I had ever heard—the sound of Tara’s penance wrapped with the breathy little pants she created as the force of my palm intensified. By the time I reached twenty, her skin was a luscious shade of pink.

  “That’s right.” My palm paused, massaging the toned orbs of her ass. “They get punished, and you, Tara, are going to find yourself over my lap a lot unless you can contain that cantankerousness.”

  She squirmed across me, wriggling like a serpent as I spanked her again.

  “I know you want my attention, and I understand that.”

  This time, I caught the underside of her left cheek, grinning as I watched the strike resound around her backside. “Your master would never intentionally deprive you of the things you wanted.” Smiling, I swatted the opposite cheek the same way, my focus flitting back to Tara’s face when she mewled at the contact. “Would he?”

  “N-no, Master.” Her hands balled into small fists, and her eyes squeezed closed, though her face was turned in my direction. “I need to be more patient.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  My tone was softer, though the spanks continued to rain down on her exposed bottom. Her responses shifted, tiny yelps escaping her lips at the same time her hips began to rise to meet the onslaught.

  I licked my lips at the display, relishing every exquisite second. It was this paradox I found so alluring—her obvious expression of pain, coupled with her yearning for more. She was a sadist’s wet dream.

  She was my dream.

  “And you will learn, little mortal, unless you want to line up more of these spankings.”

  Tara’s eyes flickered open, those green eyes spearing me. “I think I do, Master.”

  My lips curled at her audacious reply. “You want more?”

  My palm crashed down onto her vulnerable flesh as the question lingered.

  “Yes,” she exhaled, pushing the hurt away as her back arched. “I want more of this. More of you. More of your discipline, Master.”

  “Then you shall have it, Tara, and perhaps tomorrow, I should bare you and take you over my lap while in council with the six remaining princes of Hell.”

  Her gaze widened as yet another swat crashed down onto her punished ass.

  “Master, you wouldn’t dare?”

  “Oh, you really should not dare me, pretty thing,” I taunted. “I’m sure my masters would simply adore the show, especially Master Asmodeus. He does so revere sinful little mortals like you.”

  “Master.” Her eyes fluttered shut again. “Master, please no. I’ll be good, I swear it. I won’t act up just to get your attention anymore. I’ll patiently wait for you. I’ll work on my project to bring justice to other mortals.”

  I smirked down at her imploring tone, satisfied my threat had paid dividends. Tara was fast becoming used to the sting of my palm, yet she still feared the idea of being exposed and humiliated in front of others—particularly others of my own kind—a fact I knew and was happily willing to exploit.

  “There is my girl.” I rubbed her heated skin tenderly. “Now, how many more spanks do you deserve?”

  She met my gaze again, her eyes brimming with tears.

  “However many you want me to endure, Master.”

  I smiled at her response. “That was the right answer, Tara,” I told her warmly, lifting my palm once more. “That was the right answer.”

  Chapter One

  Cathy Bateman

  Heat rose around me, thick like smog, threatening to suck away the remaining oxygen, but still, I knelt in front of him, waiting. My head fell to my chest as though the weight of my shame had commanded it there, my hands clawing at the floor beside me, but still, there was no relief—neither the comforting caress of his hand nor the soft succor of his tread.

  Nothing.

  There was nothing to hear at all.

  “Damon?”

  I whispered his name into the lingering gloom, but even as the word left my lips, I didn’t know why. Damon wasn’t here—he wasn’t coming. It had been more than a week since he’d come to me, and while I’d wept in silence at his absence, deep down, I’d known why. It was because I’d wanted him to go. I’d sat by my fire and willed his departure with my incantations, and somehow, using his telepathic abilities, Damon had obliged. He’d never returned to my bedside, never demanded I pay homage to his flawless body again. He’d left me alone and returned to the pits of Hell. He’d done the right thing.

  One of us had to.

  My palms pressed into the ground, and I sniffed at the realization, miserable. I was right—one of us had—and even though I was supposed to be the moral one, the bearer of light and the power of my people, it hadn’t been me. Even though I’d known fornicating with a demon had been sacrilege. Even when the guilt had washed over me, I still couldn’t say no. I’d still invited him into my bed over and over again, tainting not just my body but everything I stood for. All the years my ancestors had fought his kind in defense of the souls the demonic sought to devour. All the boundless magic of my blood, and still, I hadn’t resisted him.

  I’d failed.

  “You are too hard on yourself, Cathy.”

  My body tensed at the sound of the voice, my brain assuming I’d heard the sound of Damon’s dulcet tone, my instincts telling me to think again.

  I knew better.

  It wasn’t Damon. The tone was deeper, broodier, and as it whipped through my mind, I concluded the obvious. It was even sexier.

  “Who are you?” I couldn’t lift my chin to discover the truth for myself. It was as if I sensed the truth, the witchcraft in my pores knowing intuitively whoever this was, it was someone infinitely more powerful than Damon had been.

  Someone darker.

  Someone more difficult to contain.

  He chuckled, and the dark sound encircled me, raising the small blonde hairs on my body and accelerating my heartbeat.

  “Make that impossible to contain, Cathy.”

  There was a sound up ahead, and in my mind’s eye, I saw him move, one long step taken toward the place I was crouching.

  “No one can contain me, not even you, Cathy, with all your power.”

  “I said, who are you?” I hissed.

  Forcing my attention north, it took every ounce of my strength to raise my eyes and take in the scene ahead, every iota of my power to force my focus onto the new threat, and that’s what he was—a threat. A menace far greater than Damon had ever been, yet I sensed the two of them were related.

  “Take a look for yourself, mortal.” One large shoe appeared in my line of sight, the ethereal light bouncing off the shiny, supple leather before the fog devoured it. “Glance this way and look upon your new master.”

  Master? My b
row furrowed. No creature had ever mastered me, and while I’d succumbed to Damon’s seductive charms, he’d never come close to that accomplishment.

  “But I will.” His voice was knowing, oozing arrogance I wanted to tear from him. “I shall be the one to master you.”

  “You still haven’t answered my question, demon.”

  Right there and then, I knew I was right. That’s what he was, this stranger—he was another devil come to tempt me, taunt me, and toy with me. Sending Damon away had been a mistake, leaving the door open to any dark creature who wanted to crawl inside.

  “Hush now.” His words floated over me, and I shivered in response. “You didn’t send Damon away, little woman. You don’t have the power to achieve that.”

  I swallowed at his assertion, a part of me not wanting to rise to his bait, yet already, it was too late. I had already bitten.

  “What do you know of my power?”

  My head snapped up with the ferocity of the question, and I stared up into the dark shadows. At first, I couldn’t make out his face in the gloom, but I sensed his presence and knew he was there.

  Slowly, he inched forward, two trouser legs breaking free of the black. Intuition told me what I was missing as my gaze fell over the rest of his strapping, muscular form. A huge, powerful expanse of chest and two well-built arms were revealed above the dark clothing. Before I’d even taken in the façade of his face, I knew I was done for. Whoever this was, he was the ultimate temptation, the perfect guise of man, sent to finish the job Damon had started. Sent to reveal my human weakness and take me down.

  “Come now.” He thrust one enormous hand out in my direction, and instinctively, I recoiled, dodging its authoritative advance. “It is much too early for such thoughts. We have not even been introduced, Cathy.”

  “Yet you know who I am?” I rose to my knees, staring into the darkness and willing his visage to reveal itself, but still, he stalled, staying back in the shadows, hiding the final fragment of the picture. “You know about me?”