thenoondaydemon Read Online Free PDF

back to see the last serving of lemonade trickle into his glass. He nodded at her, his eyes a shade of ice blue this day. Abra blinked and went on her way.
    She sidestepped the pile of glass, thinking in a vague way, that she ought to clean it up. As she walked down the hall by the bathroom, she noticed the piles of soiled clothing on the fuzzy, purple rug. Cleaning didn’t interest her at the moment though. It seemed the chore would never interest her again. She needed to get to her study. She needed to understand. Abra needed to find the tatty King James Bible and read a passage, a few words that called to her from that worn out tome.
    “Or maybe the angels are warning you.”
    “Be silent, Demon. I know who you are.”
    From the kitchen Val answered, laughter in his somber voice. “You know little, if anything at all.”
    She threw lesser books aside—manuals, expired almanacs, composting guides and seed catalogs. There it stood, at the far end of the third shelf. For a blinding moment, Abra recognized the significance of the number. “Father, Son and Holy Spirit,” she whispered. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the bible. Grasping its spine, she pulled it free. Her grip failed, and the book tumbled to the wooden floor, landing open face.
    She knelt to pick it up. Light from the window limned the pages, the very text she read aloud, “Psalms 91.6 Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday.”
    Abra dropped the bible on the coffee table. “I know who you are!”
    She backed out of the study, through the hall and stopped in her studio. Seven silvery canvases circled the room, and the dark demon she’d painted looked as virile as ever. At the sight of his gray speckled phallus, an appendage more akin to that of a bull than a man, Abra felt the beginnings of arousal pressing in on her sense of rebellion. She shook her head, retreated to her bedroom, and sat on the edge of the mattress.
    “Sleep. I just want to sleep.” She stared through the doorway at the studio, at the paints and pastels, the canvases that used to call to her, urging her to create. Now they looked unimportant, something that, if she started to work on them, would become just one more mess to have to clean.
    Work boots thumped in the kitchen. The demon came through the hall, his glass in hand. Val swigged it back, licked his lips and kept on with his ominous approach. He swept a hand through his straight hair, causing the locks to fall just so against his forehead. “I know what you want,” he told her. “To lay back against those pillows and let me have you, to surrender to me, to your inability to keep up with everything around you.” He paused in the doorway, turning his head slightly to the side. It made him all the more attractive.
    Abra felt his draw, the lure of surrender. She trembled, fighting the need to give in. Being alone seemed so impossible now, so full of work and tedium.
    He knelt to untie and remove his boots. Val undid his pants. They fell away from his body. He wore a pair of crimson boxers, the color, Abra realized, matching that shifting, bloody light that centered in his eyes. A line of black hair ran from his navel down past the waistband of his undershorts, a trail to be followed. The slit in his boxers opened and she glimpsed the treasure within.
    “Lie back,” he whispered.
    Heat pulsed through the room. Abra let him grasp her shoulders. She blinked as he guided her down against the pillows. Fingers made of fire swept over her cheeks, tickling the length of her neck, and they delved lower, reaching for her ripe breasts, touching every place just right. “You want to do nothing, don’t you?”
    She knew she should say no, that she should not give in to the temptation. He climbed upon the bed, his knee slipping between her legs. He brought his leg up, crushing it into her pussy, waking her clit with desire.
    “You want to give in, to give up. There’s