Did I swipe right on the wrong guy? This is a question Maeve has no choice but to ask herself as her boyfriend’s sins pile up. Besides the usual dirty socks on the floor, the dishes left sitting beside the sink, and having to clean up after him like his damned mother, now he’s brought home three solid black puppies. At the request of his boss, who’s been holding a promotion over his head since the beginning of their relationship. So fine. She’ll watch the puppies. They are pretty cute, after all. …If she can ignore the way they guard the bedroom door with glowing red eyes. What’s not cute? Galen’s shirts appearing in the hamper with the same two tears along the shoulder blades, the late-night walks, and the weird chanting in the middle of the living room. Determined to get to the bottom of her boyfriend’s sudden weirdness, Maeve concocts a plan, a series of tests to figure out what the hell Galen is exactly. Vampire? Werewolf? Something from Hell itself? She’s damned well going to find out, even if she has to use all the salt in the pantry. ~ Is Maeve right to lead her own investigation into her boyfriend’s weird antics? Get in on this silly adventure and learn How Not to Date a Demon.
coalesced in her center, in the bundle of nerves that wasn’t quite getting what she needed. “Come on, I know you can do better than that,” she taunted, though the sharpness of her tease was blunted by gritted teeth. Galen stirred himself in her, holding her against him as he ground up against her. “Oh my god,” she gasped, voice high-pitched as she dropped her head, palms landing on either side of Galen. “See? Told you I’d remind you,” Galen said, but Maeve felt too good to give into his tease. “You better not come before me,” was all she could think of. Galen’s hips twitched at that. Now that he had her permission, his fingers bruised her hips where he held her. Where he began to snap his hips up and drag her down onto him at the same time. His movements grinded her clit against him in a chaotic rhythm. Finally, this was what she needed. Galen was chasing his own pleasure, his strokes erratic and rushed, and his rasping breaths and moans were loud in her ear. Turning her head to the side, she muffled her own whines against her skin. Maeve felt Galen pulse inside her as his pace stuttered. He was close, and she was growing closer with every punch of his hips and every glide of him inside her. With a growl, Galen pulled her hips to him and paused there, stilling them suddenly. She turned her head back to face him because, like, what the fuck?
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