YES! DADDIES: AN EROTIC COMPILATION OF SHORT STORIES

HIGH RANKING S*X DEMON (4)

ABIGAIL.

The gallery meeting was real.

Medley Pierce, one of the most influential gallery owners in the city, called me personally. She wanted to see my portfolio, discuss representation, maybe even a solo show. I should have been elated.

Instead, I was terrified that Oberin would appear in the middle of it.

I dressed conservatively—tailored pants, a silk blouse, understated jewelry. Professional. Respectable.

Not at all like someone who’d been f****d by a demon in her shower two days ago.

The meeting started well. Medley loved my work, praised my technique, talked about how she’d always thought I was talented and was shocked by the plagiarism allegations.

“Between you and me,” she said, leaning forward conspiratorially, “Tate Harrison’s work has always been derivative. But his family’s money bought him credibility. However, his recent… troubles… have made people look more closely at his pieces. And honey, they don’t hold up.”

Relief flooded through me. “So you believe me?”

“I do. Which is why I want to offer you representation and a solo show in three months. It’ll be your comeback, your vindication.”

I was so focused on Medley that I didn’t notice Oberin appear until I felt his hand on my thigh under the table.

I jumped, barely suppressing a yelp.

He was sitting beside me, perfectly visible to me but apparently invisible to Medley, who continued talking about dates and marketing strategies as if nothing was wrong.

“Don’t mind me,” Oberin murmured, his voice audible only to me. “Just continue your meeting. Pretend I’m not here.”

His hand slid higher, fingers tracing the inseam of my pants.

I tried to focus on Medley’s words, but it was impossible with Oberin touching me, his fingers finding the heat between my legs even through the fabric.

“So what do you think?” Medley asked. “Does that timeline work for you?”

“I—yes, that sounds—” I gasped as Oberin’s fingers pressed harder, finding my c**t through my pants. “That sounds perfect.”

Medley’s eyebrows rose. “Are you alright? You look flushed.”

“Fine,” I managed. “Just excited. This is an incredible opportunity.”

Under the table, Oberin’s hand slipped beneath my waistband, under my underwear, finding bare skin. I bit my lip hard to keep from moaning as one finger slid inside me.

“You’re so wet,” he whispered in my ear, audible only to me. “All this from a business meeting? Or is it because you know I could take you right here, right now, and she wouldn’t see a thing?”

I gripped the edge of the table, trying desperately to maintain my composure as he added a second finger, curling them to hit that perfect spot. His thumb found my c**t, and I had to pretend to cough to cover my moan.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Medley asked, concerned. “We can reschedule if you’re not feeling well.”

“No!” I said too quickly. “No, I’m fine. Please, continue.”

Oberin chuckled darkly, his fingers moving faster. “That’s my girl. Stay professional while I make you fall apart. Can you do that? Can you sign a contract while you’re coming on my fingers?”

I wanted to kill him. And I was absolutely going to come if he didn’t stop.

Medley slid papers across the table. “If you’re happy with everything, just sign here, here, and here.”

I took the pen with a shaking hand, trying to focus on the signature lines while Oberin finger-f****d me under the table. His pace increased, his thumb pressing harder on my c**t, and I felt the orgasm building despite my desperate attempts to hold it back.

“Last signature,” Medley said cheerfully, pointing to the bottom of the page.

I scrawled my name just as Oberin pinched my c**t, and the orgasm crashed over me.

I gripped the pen so hard it nearly broke, my teeth clenched as I tried not to make a sound.

Wave after wave of pleasure rolled through me while I sat there, pretending nothing was happening, pretending I wasn’t coming apart in the middle of a professional meeting.

“Wonderful!” Medley stood, reaching across to shake my hand. “Welcome to the gallery, Abigail. This is going to be amazing.”

I stood on shaking legs, somehow managing to return her handshake and make appropriate small talk.

As soon as she walked me to the door and we said our goodbyes, I turned to find Oberin leaning against the wall outside, looking infuriatingly smug.

“You bastard,” I hissed. “You absolute f*****g bastard.”

“You’re welcome.” He straightened, crowding me against the wall in the empty hallway. “You got the representation you wanted, didn’t you? Consider it part of my service.”

“You can’t just—in the middle of a meeting—what if she’d seen?”

“She didn’t. Humans see what I want them to see.” His hand cupped my face, thumb brushing my lower lip. “And watching you try to stay professional while coming on my fingers was the hottest thing I’ve seen in decades. You did so well, Abigail. I’m very proud.”

My traitorous body responded to his praise, warmth flooding through me despite my anger.

“I hate you,” I muttered.

“No, you don’t.” He kissed me, deep and claiming. “You’re just frustrated that you enjoyed it. Come on. Let’s celebrate your success properly.”

He snapped his fingers, and suddenly we were in my apartment. Before I could catch my breath, he was lifting me, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carried me to the bedroom.

“I’m going to f**k you properly now,” Oberin said, tossing me onto the bed. “No more teasing. No more games. Just me, you, and that incredible cunt that’s been clenching around nothing since I left you in the hallway.”

He was on me in seconds, clothes vanishing with demonic efficiency. His mouth found my throat, teeth grazing skin, while his hands made quick work of my professional outfit.

Within moments, we were both naked, his weight pressing me into the mattress.

“I love how responsive you are,” he murmured against my collarbone. “How your body knows exactly what it wants even when your mind fights it. You were made for this, Abigail. Made for me.”

“It’s just—ah—just the contract,” I gasped as he positioned himself at my entrance.

“Keep telling yourself that.” He thrust inside in one smooth motion, and we both groaned at the sensation. “But we both know the truth.”

He f****d me slow and deep, each thrust deliberate and devastating. His eyes held mine, those shifting colors hypnotic, as if he could see straight into my soul.

It felt different from the other times—more intimate, more intense.

Less about raw need and more about connection.

“Oberin,” I breathed, and his expression changed, softening in a way I hadn’t seen before.

“I know,” he said quietly, his pace increasing. “I feel it too.”

As he pushed me higher and higher, as pleasure built between us like a living thing, all I could do was hold on and let myself fall.

When we came together, it felt like something shifted between us. Something deeper than a contract, more dangerous than desire.

And as I lay in his arms afterward, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my skin, I realized with dawning horror that this was becoming more than just s*x.

I was starting to care about the demon who owned my body.