by Cherrie Lynn
He grasped her hip, dragged her tight against him, branding her belly with the thick ridge of his erection. She gasped in shock against his lips, her hands charting him desperately. His chest and shoulders, his throat, his jaw, his hair. Everywhere except for the one place he truly needed her attentions.
A familiar electrical shiver worked its way down his spine, tingling out to the ends of every nerve in his body. He was being summoned home. His time was up. They knew.
Seizing her lips with his own, he tried to block it out. He steered her against the wall of a restaurant on the busy street. Passersby strolled past, chattering and laughing, oblivious to the two immortal beings lost in their own little world with each other.
“This won’t do,” he murmured, trailing his lips down her throat. “I want to take you someplace else.”
She sighed, stroking his hair. “Where should we go?”
“Anywhere you want. Anywhere in the world, as long as it’s dark and secluded. I want you all to myself.”
He felt her shiver, saw her smile. “Well, if it’s my choice…”
There was a flash, and a wild pitching sensation in his gut, and suddenly he was lying with her on a glistening bed of sand as the glowing orange disc of the sun sank into the endless expanse of sparkling ocean beyond their feet. “I never would have taken you for a beach enthusiast,” he said.
Celeste’s voice was barely a whisper above the gentle lull of the waves, her blue eyes teasing. “Where would you have chosen? Death Valley?” She gave him a crooked smile.
“So they do joke where you come from.” He stroked her cheek. “And this is just what I would have chosen. Where are we?”
“Someplace I found long ago. It’s deserted. You wanted secluded. This is probably as secluded as it gets.”
He lowered his head until he was so close to her, the tips of their noses nearly brushed. “What do you want?”
“This. You.”
“No second thoughts?”
She lifted her hand to his face, brushing his cheek lightly. “No.”
He closed his eyes and savored that word, loving how full of wonder it had been. As if her trust was something she could not explain, it just…was.
Since when had he wanted trust from anyone? Since when had he cared?
Since her. Incredibly, she had somehow reached into him, to his “charred, black stump of a heart”, as she’d once called it long ago, and caused that useless organ to thump. And thump again. Until finally it had beat until it shook off the accumulation of centuries of hate like an old, black crust. He hadn’t thought it possible.
When he made no move to kiss her, she took action, lifting her head the minute distance it took to press her lips to his. A shudder worked its way through him, accentuated by another jolt that signaled his masters were calling him home. This one hurt, but he managed not to grunt as her tender kiss turned searing. The summonses would get worse and worse until he obeyed. Thankfully, he was accustomed to pain, and there wasn’t enough of it in the universe to tear him away from her at this moment.
His hand tugged until her robes fell away from her shoulders, leaving her breasts bare.
It pained him to abandon the fire they generated with their lips, but he had to see her like this. Lovely, quivering… He traced her delicate collarbone with his fingertips and slid his hand down until the soft, rosy-crested flesh filled his palm, her nipple a tight little peak as he brushed it.
She whimpered, drawing his gaze to her face. He’d been lying through his teeth. If he saw the merest flicker of fear there, or second thoughts, he would end this. He wouldn’t do this to her. She somehow gave him the strength to fight all those base instincts that screamed at him to possess her utterly, savagely, mercilessly.
All he saw in her expression was acceptance.
Chapter Five
Celeste marveled something that felt as right as this could be wrong. No matter how sweet the apple Eve had bitten, she was sure it had been far sweeter for its forbidden lure. That was his kiss. Illicit. And irresistible.
It wasn’t fair. He’d mentioned repercussions, but she didn’t know what sort she would face, and right then, God help her, she didn’t care.
His mouth trailed down her throat and she arched sinuously against him, loving the slide of his lips, like damp silk brushing her skin. Stretching her arms over her head, she gave every inch of herself up for his perusal, feeling no shame as he tugged her robes away from her body and tossed them aside on the sand.
Damael’s breath shuddered out. He trailed one finger between her breasts, over her heart, and her eyes fell closed. He could hurt her now, and it would be her own fault, her own stupidity. The ache pooling between her thighs and in her breasts seemed to have chased all rational thought from her mind, and she knew it. Still, the sensations couldn’t be denied.
His touch left her, and she heard rustling, as if he was shedding his jacket. She looked to see him doing just that, his gaze never leaving her. She immediately reached up to work the buttons on his shirt, unable to move her fingers fast enough. Once she had them undone, she shoved the fabric down his shoulders, and he stripped it off the rest of the way.
God, he was beautifully sculpted, lean and pale in the moonlight. Black markings snaked around from his back to his shoulders and biceps, like sharp fingers from the darkening sky trying to claim him and pull him back into itself. For some reason, it made her all the more desperate to keep him here in her arms, just like this. She didn’t want to think about the beastly form his flesh kept contained.
She reached for him, pulling him down so he covered her body with his. Her fingers traced one of the intricate patterns around to the base of his throat. “What do they mean?” she whispered, hearing the tremor in her voice even over the rushing waves. Something about those marks filled her with dread, and touching them exacerbated the sense that perhaps she didn’t want to know what they meant.
Damael meant to spare her, shaking his head and lowering his lips to nudge under her chin. “Never you mind.”
He had done wicked things. She knew that, because she had seen them. Had those actions given him joy? Or had he been ambivalent, only carrying out his masters’ bidding? Would she ever truly know?
His lips closing around her nipple shut down her mind’s feverish pondering, and she moaned as he drew the crest deep into his mouth and laved it with the warmth of his tongue. Her nipple tightened past the point of pain. She clutched his hair in both hands, holding him to her, tilting her hips up against his only to find the hard column of his erection still encased in his pants. A mewl of frustration escaped her, and he chuckled, releasing his torturous suction on her nipple.
“You are exquisite,” he murmured. She felt the back of his hand brush her belly as he grappled with his belt, tugging and yanking. He lifted himself away long enough to shed his pants, and she had to refrain from licking her lips as the rest of his delectable body was revealed to her. The markings continued down the backs of his thighs, stopping at the knee. She knew he was watching her as she shyly let her gaze settle between those thighs, where his cock stood hard and impossibly thick.
“Touch me,” he said, guiding her hand toward him even as he gave the instruction. She closed her eyes as he wrapped her fingers around him, apprehensive when they didn’t meet around his girth. He groaned and skimmed her ear with his lips, sending more shivers skittering through her. “Explore me. Do as you wish. I’m yours for the taking.”
She blinked at him in surprise, thinking she wasn’t the only one taking a leap of faith at this moment. He lay back on the sand, naked and magnificent, and she couldn’t let go, couldn’t keep her hands off him. Instincts older than any mortal civilization were taking over, but they weren’t instincts to destroy her enemy. They were instincts to pleasure this creature lying before her like he’d never been pleasured before.
She straddled his legs, using both her hands to stroke up and down the length of his cock, enjoying the sounds he made. Hi
s eyes were closed, so he didn’t see her lean over, but every nerve in his body jumped when her lips closed around the thick head. His hand clenched in her hair, his hips lifted off the ground. All at once, she felt more empowered than she ever had dealing with him. Felt as if, for once, she held his very being in the palm of her hand. It would kill him if she stopped now.
She swallowed him down inch by inch, reveling in his reactions, so raw and unlike anything she had ever seen. She’d grown wet just watching him, wet and flushed and eager to feel him penetrate her where she felt so empty, so needy. She moved her hips against him in a rhythm that seemed older than time as she took him over and over with her mouth.
Suddenly, he reached down and lifted her over him until her legs were open over his mouth. The cry that escaped her as his lips closed over her mound sounded almost pagan, and she offered it to the sky with little concern for who was listening. His tongue slid between her folds, warm and wet and seeking, before fluttering against her clitoris in a way that dragged repeated moans from her throat. Her body arched as he tormented her, building the scalding ache to a peak that had her thighs shuddering. Her wings, usually folded tight against her back so as not to be a nuisance, were twitching like an agitated bird’s.
“When you come, spread them for me,” he murmured against her. The vibrations of his words against her inflamed flesh nearly did the job. Looking down, she saw his gaze was on her wayward wings, and she might have smiled if passion hadn’t been holding her captive. Helpless, sobbing, she ground her hips while he held her in place. He was relentless in his pursuit to shatter her. Nothing had ever felt so good, so good…another moment, another flick of his tongue in just the right place and…
Pleasure swept her away, sent her tumbling as if one of the waves sweeping the beach had toppled her. She didn’t consciously have to do as he’d asked. As every muscle in her body tightened, her wings unfolded and spread wide, stretching to their limits.
She scarcely had time to recover her senses before he flipped her down to the sand, wedging himself between her thighs as his eyes flashed crimson. Instead of frightening her, they drew forth a surge of lust that spurred her to spread wider and wriggle her hips to get him where she needed him. “Oh, please,” she whispered, guiding him to the hot core of this inexplicable need for him.
It was all too much. She was insane to beg for more. But in that moment she’d have let him drag her to Hell before she’d give up the masterful wickedness of his body. The ache he’d aroused in her reached another crescendo, and her muscles tightened, the delicious tension almost more than she could bear. Surely it would break her into pieces. He would watch her come apart right here beneath him.
Her breath caught as two of his fingertips skimmed down her belly and between her legs, not stopping their quest until he found her entrance and slid deep inside her slick passage. A shuddering groan tore itself from her throat, and he lowered his head to kiss a trail from one breast to the other. She arched into his mouth as his fingers worked her inner walls, stoking her pleasure, and at the moment she felt certain the building pressure would incinerate her, he withdrew.
Frustration churned within her, and she glared at him reproachfully, silently demanding why he’d stopped. All the words building in her throat died when he shifted and she felt the nudge of his erection into the tender cleft between her legs. She gasped as he pushed, and reflexively she dug her heels into sand that offered little resistance. His burning intrusion was inescapable, but she wanted it.
“Take me,” he whispered, over and over almost like a prayer, lifting his head so that his lips brushed hers. The world seemed to recede, falling away all around her, leaving only him. Him, and his impossible fullness slowly rending her. Just as she thought she would have to beg him to stop, his hips met hers and all the breath seemed to shudder out of him, along with the indecipherable words of his native tongue. Hearing them sent a little stab of apprehension through her, only to recede as he lifted his hand and gently stroked her face.
“Are you all right?”
He cared? He didn’t want to plunder her, take all that she had left? Hear her ask him for mercy?
Biting her bottom lip, she nodded, staring up at him in confusion. He gave her a gentle smile that was nothing like his usual wicked grin that always seemed to have malice lurking behind it. But she couldn’t let herself be fooled. Soon he would be back on task again, terrorizing, pillaging…and perhaps remembering one sweet interlude that never should have been…
Except that first he was going to be punished for losing to her. What were they going to do to him? The thought filled her eyes with tears, and he frowned. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” she answered quickly, too quickly.
His voice was ragged, his breathing labored. “Do you still want this?”
Celeste closed her eyes, savoring the feel of him stretching her deep inside. “Oh, yes. I can’t explain why, but I do.”
“Some things need no explanation.”
His lips grazed her throat as he began to move. The long, thick slide of him through her wet sheath made her breath catch, her body coming alive again. Wild heat leapt within her. He could burn her with a mere thought to do so, and the fear only seemed to drive her lust to greater heights.
Suddenly, he jolted against her and cringed as if he were in pain, his eyes squeezing shut. She knew immediately it had nothing to do with any pleasure he was feeling; he was in real distress. Alarm flashed through her. “What’s wrong?”
For a moment, he seemed to struggle to regain control of himself, then shook his head. “Nothing,” he said raggedly. His eyes, when they opened, seemed to carry the wearied aftereffects of agony, but his gaze played over her face with a new determination. “Just touch me, Celeste,” he said. “Trust me enough to give yourself to me. I need this.”
Was she mad to let him have such power? All the same, her hands skated feverishly down his back, feeling the muscles bunch and release as he thrust into her again and again. Weakness lapped at all her limbs. His kisses along her throat crossed the threshold into pain as his teeth sank into her. She only wanted more, turning her head away, giving him access. Helpless, she wrapped her legs around his waist, hanging on to him as the only reality in this wild new world he was leading her through.
“Please,” she whispered, raising her hands to grab silky fistfuls of his hair. She didn’t know what she was asking him for, couldn’t gather her thoughts that far.
But he seemed to know. His mouth released its feral grip on her throat and moved to her lips, and it was difficult to fathom a kiss so gentle and reassuring could come from the same being that ravaged her body. She moaned, melting into it, giving him what he asked for even if it was at her own peril. She did trust him, whether it meant she was insane or not.
A heaven she’d never known before glimmered just beyond her reach. He brought it closer with every movement, every kiss. A moment later, with the barest stroke of his finger over her clitoris, he brought it crashing down over her.
She cried out as her body arched taut as a bowstring under him, and he let out a purr and another rush of words she couldn’t decipher. She was beyond caring. The stars were raining down over her. Somehow, in the midst of it all, she felt him shudder, and curse, and release inside her. Every contraction of her internal muscles was met with a hot gush of his seed, as if she milked it from him. She tightened her legs behind him so that she received every drop he had to give her. It only seemed to drive her pleasure higher and higher. The first syllable of his name caught on her breath.
“Say it,” he said when she stopped, nothing demanding or severe about his tone. He was pleading.
“Damael!”
His head dropped to her shoulder, tremors wracking him. She caught him in her arms, held him close and fought not to sob. For him, for herself, for what they’d just done, what they’d just brought upon themselves.
But he’d kept his promise. He’d made it worth her while.
&nb
sp; It seemed forever passed before they emerged from their cocoon of post-apocalyptic bliss. Hours, surely. Damael seemed content to lie on his back while she rested her head on his shoulder, one wing draped across him. He also seemed particularly fond of stroking the feathers.
Celeste had often been envious of the demons for not having to carry their wings while walking the earth. But unlike that hideous webbed monstrosity on their backs, an angel’s wings were a status symbol and always represented, nuisance or no. She’d worked hard for hers, so she really shouldn’t complain. But she certainly didn’t think she’d enjoyed them this much since she’d first earned them. A wry smile touched her lips at the thought.
Damael shifted under her to get a better look at her face. “What’s that for?”
She lifted her head, resting one cheek in her hand. He immediately reached up to push a curlicue of hair away from her face. “Can’t I smile?” she asked teasingly. “Or am I supposed to be eternally downhearted at the plight of the world?”
“Perhaps if you smiled more often, the world would be a brighter place.”
Celeste felt her expression darken. “If only it were that simple.”
His fingers trailed down to trace her cheek, the line of her jaw. His dark gaze followed the progression, then lifted to meet her own. As always, those black eyes ate up what little light the moon cast, letting none of it escape. “Tell me about your home. What do you do there?”
“What do you think?”
“I’ve always imagined it as one big never-ending choir practice.”
“It’s not like that at all. It’s beautiful. A lot like earth, only more vivid. More…perfect, and completely peaceful.” Absently, she traced the line of one of his markings where it snaked over his shoulder. “I suppose that sounds insufferable to you.”
“You might be surprised,” he muttered. Silence stretched out for a moment. “Aren’t you going to ask me what it’s like where I’m from?”
