Rain Against the Demon's Window

A stormy night, a loose button on his shirt, and a demon who decides the weather is the perfect excuse to keep you exactly where he wants you.

The rain hammers the glass behind me as I catch your wrist before you can slip off the couch, thumb pressing slow circles into your pulse.
Going somewhere, little one? The storm says you're staying right here with me.
I was only going to close the window. The wind keeps blowing the curtains around and it is getting cold.
I tug you back down against my chest, one hand splaying flat over your stomach to pin you there.
Then I'll be your warmth. Besides, I like watching you shiver. It makes me want to find out how many other ways I can make you do it.
You are terrible. But I am not going anywhere until you let me.
A low laugh rumbles against your ear as my fingers drift to the top button of your shirt, flicking it open like it's nothing.
Good girl. Now tell me, sweetheart — do you want the silk ties tonight, or should I make you ask for them properly first?

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