Dark Enchantment (Elvis Presley Story)

Chapter 20

Sophia was falling for Elvis-she couldn't deny her feelings any longer. After their sex session, Elvis ordered up some food and they sat down to a delicious meal. One thing about demons, they enjoyed anything and everything sensual, including eating.

She drank two more glasses of faerie wine with dinner, preferring the blissful oblivion of illusion to the harsh light of reality. What could it hurt? Elvis already had her where he wanted her. And for whatever reason, he seemed to relish her demonstrative fantasy-induced crush on him. She should have felt embarrassed, but what the hell. Elvis really was the most handsome man on Earth.

"Do you have horns?" She asked, making him blink. And her as well. She hadn't really meant to wonder that out loud.

"Excuse me?"

"You know." She curled her forefingers, put them up to her temples and wiggled them. She giggled. "Horns."

His mouth curved up in an amused smirk. "No. Just one big one."

Her gaze lowered as her hands covered another giggle. "And a very pretty one it is."

He grabbed the bottle of faerie wine and corked it. "That's it. I'm cutting you off, honey."

She propped her chin in her hand with a grin and tilted her head. "Why not?"

"Anymore of this stuff and things could get really embarrassing."

"No, I mean horns."

Elvis rolled his eyes. "Really, now. Horns are so last Millennium. My kind have changed with the times just as mortals have."

"How so?"

He leaned back in his seat. "Demons like me are simply the projection of the shadow side of the human mind. As people's fears have become more sophisticated, so have we, to reflect those fears. Little red men with horns and pitchforks no longer frighten. Nowadays, people's deepest fears can appear nearly identical to their deepest desires. As you know." He said with a little smile.

It sent a shiver down her spine. Did she ever.

But at that moment she was in no condition to think straight, let alone carry on a philosophical discussion on the nature of demons or the quality of human fear.

"You might be right about the wine," She said. As she stood up to clear the table and was hit by a wave of dizziness. She sat back down again.

"Leave those." He indicated the dishes.

"You have a maid?" She asked.

"More like she has me," he said. "I'd be lost without her."

"What do you give her?" She sucked in a breath and shot Elvis a look. "Surely not..."

He returned accusing gaze with composure. "Would you be jealous?"

"Yes," She admitted. Grudgingly. "I'd be forced to find her and scratch her eyes out."

Elvis put his arms around Sophia and kissed her temple. "Then it's a good thing I just leave her books."

She frowned. "Books?"

"Yes." He whispered, trailing kisses down her neck.

Unexpected. But comforting. Sophia let Elvis led her through into the living room where a fire burned cosily in the massive fireplace. Before it, steaming coffee waited on a silver tray on the floor next to a scatter of large damask pillows.

"Her doing? Or yours?" Sophia said feeling annoyed again.

"Mine." He lowered himself down to the thick shag carpet as graceful as a cat, gathering a couple of the pillows to lean his elbow upon. "Come here, Darlin'. join me."

Her tension fled at the inviting picture he made. Neither of them had dressed for dinner after their long fuck fest. Elvis had produced two matching silk robes which they'd worn to the table, as he sprawled before the fire, he undid his belt so the robe fell open, revealing his splendid body.

She knew it must of been the wines influence, but the perfection of it literally left her breathless. Angles and hollows, lean sinew and thick muscle, sculpted lips and a stallion-like dick. He belonged in a museum, carved in marble or formed in bronze. Except, what a shame for him not to be animated by flesh and blood, to be gazed upon for the pleasure of the world as she gazed upon him now. Talk about performance art.

She undid her own belt and let her robe slide down her shoulders and fall to the floor. His eyes glittered languorously. Slowly, he extended his hand towards her. The pull of him was impossible to resist, and it had nothing to do with the prickle of energy that fanned out from his fingertips and washed over her like a breeze of sparks.

How lucky was she!

She went to him, captured by the magic that was Elvis, dizzy with the thrill of being his.

This was all she wanted. In the whole world, he was all she wanted.

And if that made her a fool and a dreamer, so be it.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! And thanks for reading! xoxo