Playing With Fire - Katie MacAlister [130]
‘‘Sweet, sweet May . . . singing my praises to the delicious Sally, are you? How thoughtful.’’
The voice that spoke held a note of amusement that didn’t lull me into a sense of comfort. Magoth in a normal (read: evil) mood I could handle, but a playful, amused Magoth was especially dangerous.
‘‘I’m simply telling her the truth about you,’’ I said cautiously, turning to eye him. As a mortal, Magoth had been an incredibly handsome man, with sinfully black hair and eyes, and a seductive manner that had left women over the centuries sighing . . . those who survived his attentions, that is. Although demon lords could change their appearance to suit their whims, Magoth had never altered his, finding that his true form suited his purposes just fine.
He leaned with languid grace against the doorframe to my room, a wicked light dancing in his black eyes, his hair once again slicked back, making obvious the resemblance to his movie-star self from some ninety years before. ‘‘May I enter?’’ he asked now with a slightly raised eyebrow at my slowness.
‘‘Sins of the saints, you make him ask to come into your room?’’ Sally’s little gasp of surprise drew Magoth’s attention to her as he oiled his way in.
‘‘It is a little game we play, my sweet May and me— she insists that I not enter her so-charming chamber without her express consent, and I pretend to go along with it. And speaking of games, shall we indulge in a threesome?’’ Magoth flung himself down on my bed and patted the mattress with a seductive look pointed at me. ‘‘I’ll have to let May go first, since she will be my consort, but you may feel free to indulge in your wildest fantasies with me, Sally. I’m sure May won’t protest if you ride me like a rented mule.’’
‘‘Oh!’’ Sally said, shooting me a quick glace, but I was unsure whether she was startled by the thought of indulging in a threesome or by the fact that I would apparently not be bothered about my so-called lover’s infidelities. ‘‘I don’t . . . um . . .’’
‘‘She’s not interested any more than I am,’’ I said, coming to Sally’s rescue. I would have added a frown at Magoth for lounging around on my bed, but the mask was now so tight that it prohibited movement . . . not to mention the fact that Magoth wasn’t in the least concerned with whether I frowned at his actions. ‘‘Did you want something in particular?’’
‘‘If I said you, would you hold it against me?’’ he asked with a waggle of his eyebrows. ‘‘And by it, I mean your delectable self. Naked? And dabbed with just a light touch of that edible jasmine oil I had made for you?’’
I crossed my arms over my chest. ‘‘Take a look at my face, Magoth. What do you see?’’
‘‘I see a woman who is trying desperately to make herself beautiful for me, and yet I already find you attractive. Did you want me to bed you wearing the facial mask? It’s rather kinky, although not nearly so kinky as having you slathered in pig’s grease and bound to that delightful little device I showed you in my playroom—’’
I held back a shudder. ‘‘Your playroom could double as a torture museum, not that I’m going to enter it again.’’
‘‘But, my sweetest of all sweet Mays, I assure you that a little tingle of electricity in clamps placed on well-oiled nipples can be stimulating in ways—’’
‘‘Will you stop?’’ I interrupted in a loud voice, not wanting to get him wound up again. ‘‘I am not going to sleep with you. Not now, not ever, and certainly not when there are pig’s grease and nipple clamps around.’’
Sally sucked in another startled breath, no doubt in response to the manner in which I had addressed Magoth. ‘‘May, my dear,