Chapter Twenty

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Romeo (Lust)

Human men think about sex an average of nineteen times a day. Willow told me that once; said she read a study about it.

She went on and on about it. The issues with the methodology, the inconclusive nature of the results. I hardly heard the words she spoke, so focused was I on the way her blue eyes sparkled when she explained proper experiment procedures.

She tells stories with every part of her body: her hands that flex to demonstrate physical details, her eyelids that widen and narrow to emphasize plot points, even her feet are utilized to tap out rhythms as though every story is really just a song to be sung and the words are lyrics that hold hidden meanings.

It makes me hard, watching the way her body sings.

Unlike human men, I can't go an hour without thinking about sex. Every person I see, every interaction I have, I'm thinking about it. Wondering how loud the woman grabbing lunch in the cafeteria line would scream if I fisted her pussy. Wondering how deep the man replacing candles in the hallway could take my cock if I shoved it down his throat. Even in sleep, my dreams are filled with undulating bodies, sweaty with exertion and filled to the brim with...satisfaction.

It's an addiction; one I can't stop. One I'm not sure I want to stop. I start twitching if I go too long without it. For that reason, I have several arrangements with demons and angels at this school.

Fraternization between angels and demons is frowned upon, but that doesn't hold me back. Hate fucks are some of the best, and the angels really know how to push back, to make it interesting. Of course, we keep it quiet. I know how to shut my mouth when the situation calls for it.

Like right now. The fourth-year I'm pounding into is the crown jewel of the Raphaelson family. The perfect daughter of an archangel, Harriet practically foams at the mouth for my demon dick.

She's my standing appointment on Wednesday afternoons between Elemental Magic and Combat Training. We usually have to be quick; Ragnar will give me a detention for being late to class, brother or not. But today's the day of the Combat final and we have some time until we need to be in the arena.

"Yeah, Romeo, fuck me harder. God, you feel amazing."

I tune her out, even as I follow her instructions. She almost hits her head against the table with the force of my thrusts, but I don't give a shit. She can figure it out.

I only fuck brunettes when I feel like torturing myself. Because it is torture. If I take them from behind and keep them quiet, I can pretend they're her. That's when sex is the best, when my climaxes are the highest. But what comes up must come down (pardon the pun). And the crash afterward is brutal.

If I'm with a woman, I usually stick to blondes, redheads, hair colors that won't look brown in any lighting. Men are easier. No matter what physical features they have, my brain never mistakes them for her.

Harriet has black hair, which is unfortunate. No back rooms or dimly-lit corridors for us. We're in the cafeteria, one of the brightest locations on campus. Here, if I bother to look at her, I won't have a chance to confuse her for Willow.

It's empty in here at this time of day, with students too busy hustling to classes to grab food. Even the lunch ladies are scarce in between meal times, hiding away wherever it is they go when they're not feeding the masses.

"Right there, Romeo. Oh, fuck, don't stop." She tries to sit up on the table, to get closer to me.

I wish Harriet was into bondage. I'd like to tie her up, muzzle her mouth so she can't touch or talk to me. Part of my Sin is being able to detect people's sexual desires. Professor Eros thinks I'll be able to pick apart people's general desires someday, but I'm not there yet. For now, I can only tell how people want to fuck or be fucked, and who they'd most like to do it with.

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