But there he was, looking at the mirror. Looking at me in the mirror.
His eyes were intense, his jaw tight, his body rigid. As my gaze moved down the length of his body, I saw the bulge at the fly of his jeans. Even as my focus stayed there, his hand lowered, undid his button and zipper, reached inside, and pulled out his erection.
I might not have had experience with men personally, but I knew just about everything there was to know. We had many anatomically correct male God statues, drawings, and paintings.
In the flesh, as it were, was very different from statues and pictures. Those always made it look hard, yes, but in real life, it looked somehow hard, yet somehow soft at the same time. Like if you ran a hand across it, it would be smooth and warm.
The statues and pictures hadn't prepared me, though, for this.
For this man.
No, this demon, I reminded myself.
But regardless of his origins in hell, this flesh he was wearing was all man.
And impressive, at that.
I pressed my thighs together at the length of him, the girth, realizing my hand would barely close around him.
That should have been intimidating, a little worrisome.
But all I felt was a heat, a thrill, a tightening of desire.
As his hand started to stroke his cock, the sensation only grew until it felt like it was overtaking me completely, until there was an oppressive weight on my lower stomach, a throbbing between my thighs that begged for release.
I didn't dare, though, knowing he could see me. It was bad enough I was allowing him to watch, had said nothing about him looking at me while I was nude.
I soaped my hands again, wrinkling my nose a bit at the plain scent of it, so used to the soaps my coven and I made each summer filled with flowers and herbs, earthy and familiar, then ran my hands down my body as Ly kept stroking himself, somehow making his cock get bigger, thicker, as he went.
A jolt moved through me as my hands brushed over my breasts, finding them heavy and sensitive, then drifted lower, over my belly. I raised one leg out of the hot water, soaping it up as I casually watched the mirror, finding Ly's eyes so heavy-lidded they were almost closed in his desire. I washed my other leg. Then my hand moved upward, slipping between my thighs under the guise of completing my washing, but as my fingertips met my cleft, stroked upward to brush over the little bud at the apex of my sex, a wave of pleasure too intense to deny burst from my touch and outward, making my body jolt, making my head loll back, making a surprised whimper escape me.
It was right then, too, that Ly hissed, his lips forming the foreign—yet somehow instinctively sinful-sounding word—Fuck—as he reached completion, his body stiffening, his cock producing his seed.
It shouldn't have been thrilling, but that was the sensation that moved through me as I watched.
My gaze stayed on him as he recovered from his release, found a discarded piece of clothing on the floor, and cleaned himself off with it.
Then, I followed his movement as he seemed to be coming into the room.
With me.
A second later, there he was, at the sink, washing his hands as his gaze moved to mine in the mirror.
Nothing about him right then made me think he knew I had been watching him as he had been watching me.
Which meant my reaction should have been shock and outrage for him intruding on a private moment.
"Get out," I demanded, hoping my voice sounded more forceful to him than it did to my own ears.
To that, he switched off the water and turned to face me, pausing for a second, then making his way toward the tub.
"This is my room, witch. That is my tub you are soaking in. You don't make demands here. You don't tell me to do anything, in fact," he warned me, voice steely, cold, even, but I inexplicably felt a heat moving across me at the sound. "This is my water," he went on, squatting down at the side of the tub, running his hand across the surface of the water, making it lap up over my breasts, causing my nipples to harden.
At that, Ly's breath rushed out through his nose, his eyes flashing, seeming redder for a moment as he reached for my hand that was still holding the bar of soap, rested right above the triangle of my sex. He covered my hand and the soap with his, pushing it downward so it slid between my thighs, the touch making my legs shoot out, my back arch, a whimper to escape me.
"That's my soap too," he told me. "Remember that when you're rubbing it across your clit," he added, releasing my hand suddenly, standing, and walking out of the room.
The door to the hallway slammed as well, leaving me wholly alone for the first time since leaving the basement.
My hand released the soap, but stayed between my thighs, my finger teasing over the spot I'd always heard referred to in softer, earthy terms. Bud. Gem. Jewel.
I'd never heard the word he used before.
Clit.
There was something forceful about that word, something primal.
Clit.
I liked it, I decided, as my finger moved across it. I liked it more when he said it in that growling, masculine voice of his, but that was an issue for another time.
Right there, right then, in that tub of water, with my body humming with need, I let my eyes drift closed and brought my body upward in the song of desire, letting it reach the blissful high note that sang through my whole body before I finally finished my bath, washing and rinsing my hair under the running tap. I climbed out of the bath, drying myself off with the scratchy towel on the drying bar before moving over to the vanity, searching around for any creams.
Finding none, I used my finger to brush the chemically minty paste onto my teeth, cleaning them off, washing my hands, slipping into my cloak as a makeshift dress as I washed my gown in the sink, figuring I could hang it to dry in the basement, and that I could rotate the two makeshift outfits anytime they allowed me to bathe.
Unsure what to do next, I made my way out into the bedroom.
I'd never seen the outside of the demons' home, but this room was massive, bigger than my entire home in the woods, dominated by a wooden-framed bed that seemed like four could comfortably sleep on it.
There were wooden dressers, nightstands, and a massive box on the wall I knew of as a television, though I had personally never watched one for more than a few seconds when I'd gone with some of the older women in the coven to town to get some supplies that we couldn't secure any other way.
I moved over toward the windows, drawing back the drapes, seeing the damage of my swirling emotions all around the sprawling grounds—pools of water, broken tree branches, sad-looking rose bushes.
The sun was peeking through the clouds now, though, as the thick blanket of sadness seemed lifted.
I was still uncomfortable, unsure, completely in the dark about what was going to happen to me here.
But if the demon was going to rape me, wouldn't he have done it already? If they were going to murder me, wouldn't that have taken place?
I was starting to wonder if all those scary stories told around a fire were nothing more than tall tales from imaginative minds than actual possibilities.
Though, it might have been too soon to write much of anything off.
These were demons, after all.
Evil through and through.
When Ly didn't return several moments later, I made my way toward the door, pressing my ear to it, trying to hear if anyone was approaching, if he was nearby.
Hearing nothing, I hung up my gown in the bathroom and stood around waiting, figuring there was no way they wanted me walking freely around the home without express permission to do so.