by Nadine Mutas
I whirled around and stalked back to that blasted connecting door, fuming. At him, at myself. At the low-pulsing desire persistently eroding all good sense.
Almost through the door, I paused, pursed my lips. My gaze flicked to the door to his bathroom.
He wasn’t the only one who could play.
I snatched my vibrator from where it still lay on the vanity countertop and marched back to his bed. My clothes hit the floor, and then I hit the sheets, making sure to rub my now naked self generously over his mattress. With a sigh, I set the vibrator between my thighs, my intimate flesh already wet and swollen.
Demons had a superior sense of smell, didn’t they?
I grinned and got down to business.
It didn’t usually take long for me to get off with my vibe. Depending on my state of arousal, sometimes as little as two minutes. I’d be back in my own suite in no time.
Lying there, in Azazel’s bed, utterly naked with my legs spread wide, did give me an extra thrill, heightened the excitement pulsing through me. The suite lay silent, just my quickened breathing and the hum of the vibrator.
The possibility of discovery amped up my adrenaline, even though it was unlikely I’d be taken unawares completely—the vibe was extra quiet and wouldn’t drown out the sound of someone making an entrance. The door to the next room was ajar, and I’d hear it if anyone came in, would see the lights flaring in the rest of the suite.
I could be out of this bed and behind the connecting door in seconds.
I’d be fine, and Azazel would have a nice olfactory surprise waiting for him.
Biting my lip, I closed my eyes for a moment and pressed the vibe down on my clit. Pleasure zinged through me. My toes curled, grasped the sheets, and my hips lifted off the mattress.
The image of Azazel in all his naked glory flashed through my mind. His hand squeezing his cock. That gleam of hunger in his eyes as he looked at me. In my imagination, he stroked the length of his dick, slowly, tantalizingly, while he prowled closer, closer…
I thought of those sensual lips of his on my skin, on my breasts, licking and sucking like he’d done during the meeting, only now no lace—however flimsy—separated the heat of his mouth from my nipples.
A quick glance to the door in the wall in front of me, leading to the next room, and the window to the balcony confirmed I was still alone.
I laid my free hand on my breast, squeezed and teased the tight, sensitive bud.
Desire curled in my core, the pressure mounting. I was close, so close.
“I would ask if you’re thinking of me…”
I froze at the familiar voice, the purred question coming from my left, followed by the snick of a door falling shut.
“...but you’re projecting quite beautifully already.”
Heart thundering, I turned my head.
Wreathed in shadows, Azazel leaned with one shoulder against the now closed door to my suite—the door I hadn’t monitored, so sure he’d come back either from the balcony to my right, or the door to the rest of his suite in the wall opposite the bed.
The vibrator buzzed between my thighs. My hand was still on my breast, fingers pinching my nipple.
His eyes flashed lightning in the semi-darkness.
“Fuck,” I breathed.
“That can be arranged.” His voice was lust wrapped in sin, his power drenching the room.
My inner muscles clenched, the ache growing only stronger for the lack of something to clench around. I couldn’t wrench my gaze away from Azazel’s, couldn’t move, my hand clutching that damn vibe. Its incessant, persistent buzzing reinforced the throbbing around my clit.
If I shifted it just a little, pressed down right there...I’d come apart. The wave hovered, crested, a heartbeat away from breaking.
The vibrator disappeared.
One moment I held its weight, the hum of its motor massaging my flesh, the next my hand was empty. My fingers twitched around nothing.
Because I was still holding Azazel’s gaze, I saw in clear, excruciating detail how he lifted his hand—now grasping my vibe—up to his face and inhaled. The shadows surrounding him deepened while his eyes flared with silver fire.
I made a sound close to a whimper.
That spot between my thighs, primed and ready, wet and waiting, almost hurt because of the abrupt abandonment, the lack of pressure.
“Need a hand?” The timbre of his voice stroked me as much as a physical caress.
I trembled. Yearned.
“I’ve got two,” I whispered, clueless where that sass came from at this moment. “But thanks.”
And as if all my good sense had made a nosedive into reckless territory, I lowered my fingers until they pressed against my clit.
He was on me before I could draw my next breath.
Grasping my wrists, he shoved my arms above my head, his large frame looming over me as he straddled me. The mattress dipped with his weight. His power pulsed in the air, making my heart stutter.
And yet he didn’t touch me anywhere other than to hold my wrists in place.
The stark juxtaposition of him still fully clothed while I quivered naked underneath him did something delicious to my insides.
“When you’re in my bed,” he murmured, the dominant glint in his eyes pinning me as effectively as his hold on my wrists, “you will not come by your own touch.”
I swallowed, my mouth gone dry. I had to push him, didn’t I?
“If you want release,” he continued, his thumbs now rubbing over my pulse points, “you either leave this bed and get off in your own, alone...”
I squirmed, my skin too tight, too hot.
“...or you stay…” His gaze burned me. “...and ask me to take care of you.”
My breaths sawed in and out of me.
“What’s it going to be, Zoe?”
God help me.
That knife’s edge on which I balanced. It would cut me deep.
“Leave, or stay?”
My choice, my choice, my…
I inhaled on a tremble, licked my lips, and rasped, “Stay.”
A beat of silence, the tension between us prickling to the point of pain. Then he smiled, a genuine, brilliantly seductive smile that warmed his eyes and made my stomach flip.
“Good.” How this one word, said in a timbre that hummed over every sensitive, touch-hungry part of my body, could encompass so much pleasure was beyond me. And yet it plucked a chord inside me, made me melt a little more in his grasp.
I stared at him, expectantly, anticipating, every nerve ending tuned in to his presence. My clit still craved pressure, craved touch, wanted what he could give me. What he’d promised.
He remained unmoving, just held my gaze as surely as he held my wrists pinned over my head. Waiting, I realized.
I huffed out a breath. “You’re really gonna make me say it, aren’t you?”
A sly smile was his answer, followed by the slightest brush of his energy over my breasts. I shivered, shifted, trying to chase that touch. In vain, of course, as it was as tangible as breath.
“Unfair,” I muttered. My chest heaved as I inhaled and gave him what he was waiting for. “Make me come.”
He raised a brow.
“Please,” I added with a smile that bordered on a fierce declaration of war.
Amusement danced in his eyes. “You make an art form out of spiteful surrender.”
“You seem to enjoy it.”
His lips twitched upward. “Fingers,” he asked, “mouth, or cock?”
My toes curled, and I pressed my thighs together against the flare of lust shooting straight down to my core. “All of it,” I whispered. “In that order.”
His soft laugh was at odds with the feral look on his face. “Greedy, much?”
“Don’t tell me you’re not up for it.” I should really stop poking at him. I would.
Soon. Ish.
“Hm.” One corner of his mouth lifted, his eyes flashing.
Wait, I knew
that look. He was up to someth—
He’d flipped me over before I could so much as squeak. My over-sensitive nipples met the mattress, my throbbing mound brushed the sheets, and I bit back a moan as I turned my head, my hair half-obscuring my sight.
Still holding my wrists with one hand, he pressed me into the bed with the full length of his body at my back, stretching out on top of me. The fact I could still breathe spoke to him balancing part of his weight somewhere else. If he truly, fully lay on top of me, I’d be a breathless pancake on the bed, I was sure.
“Does this feel,” he murmured into my ear, “like I’m not up to it?”
And to make his point indisputably clear, he pushed his hips down, shoving the part of him that was most obviously up for it against my ass.
My breath hitched, and fresh desire pooled between my legs. Made me push back against the hardness of his cock, even though he was still in those damn pants.
“Why,” I panted, “are you still dressed?”
A heavy pause, as if he was contemplating the very same question.
“Patience,” he said at last, and the word rang with enough sensual menace that I whimpered.
“That’s a virtue,” I pointed out, as he stroked one hand down my side, skimming the curve of my breast and leaving goosebumps in its wake. “You’re a demon.”
“Astutely observed.”
“You have no business being virtuous,” I snapped.
He bit my neck. Pleasure shot like lightning down my spine. My back arched, my hips angling back. I pushed against him, desperate for more pressure, more touch…for him to finally penetrate me, whether by finger, tongue, or cock. I didn’t care. I just needed to feel him inside me. Some part of him.
“Please,” I groaned, way past caring that my begging had turned real.
He hummed against my neck in response, a sound so smugly satisfied, so full of masculine arrogance that it would have raised my hackles...had he not licked and suckled on the exact spot where he bit me, sending more torturous pleasure coursing through my veins.
His hand stroking down my side slid under me, wedged between the mattress and my abdomen...lower.
I trembled, my stomach muscles tightening.
His fingers grazed the top of my mound, ran through the trimmed hair...skimmed around my swollen clit.
A sound that was half gasp, half moan escaped me.
He hissed as he touched my labia, slick with my arousal. “So wet.”
My answer was another moan as I arched into his hand. Yes. Yes, please. More.
He pushed two fingers inside me, pumped deep while he pressed the heel of his hand against my clit. My breath caught, my pulse stumbling. The heat within me built, built, built.
He added a third finger, pushed hard against a spot inside. I stiffened, teetering on the edge.
His teeth on my neck again, sharp points of pain that zapped through me, mingled with the mounting pleasure—and I shattered.
A cry wrenched itself from my throat. I bucked and writhed, a firestorm of bliss coursing through me.
Before I even came down from the height of my climax, he’d pulled up my hips so I was on my knees—my upper body and face still sprawled on the mattress, but my ass in the air—and then his mouth was on me.
I gasp-squeaked and jolted at the heat of his tongue on my intimate, swollen flesh. A rumble sounded from him, the kind of fierce, hungry growl you’d hear before a lion feasted.
And feast he did.
He licked and sucked, his tongue flicking and teasing, stroking my folds and spearing into me. A sensual ambush of lips and tongue and teeth with the ferocity of a starved, wild creature.
Good God, I’d never been eaten out like this.
Going with the dining metaphor, all of my other oral encounters now seemed like listless poking at food compared to this...this...ravenous devouring. Azazel went all in, no holds barred, with a devotion to raw, unbridled, passionate oral worship that made every muscle in my body quiver and quake.
“Oh, God,” I moaned, my fingers grasping the sheet. “Ohgodohgodohg—”
Dark power rippled over me, charged the air with a lick of menace just as his teeth gripped my folds.
Who? The snarled question filled my head, reverberated inside my skull.
“Azazel,” I wheezed.
He sucked my flesh, pushed three fingers inside me. His thumb circled my clit.
Louder.
“Az—Azazel!” I groaned as another orgasm ripped me to shreds, even more intense than the first.
By the time I floated back into the room again, his name was a whispered prayer on my lips, a mantra echoing inside my head, a pulse underneath my skin.
White-hot lightning in his eyes as he rose over me, his gaze searing every raw, laid-bare layer of myself. He flipped me again, I thought sluggishly, my limbs tingling with the aftermath of orgasmic destruction, sweat coating my skin.
His muscles flexed in his arms and shoulders as he braced himself over me. I’d been so blissed out, I hadn’t even noticed how he’d stripped.
Now I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the expanse of rough-hewn masculine beauty hovering so close, so close… I reached out, stroked over his pecs—covered in trimmed dark hair—up to the bulging muscles in his shoulders, to his strong neck.
His energy was a velveteen kiss to my senses, caressing my mind as I caressed him.
I let my hand glide toward his jaw, over his chin, to that sensual, damnably skilled mouth of his. My thumb stroked over his lower lip, once, twice.
He grabbed my wrist, nipped at my fingers, and pressed my arm next to my head as he leaned down and kissed me. A perfect storm of power and coaxing seduction, possession and lure, he had me arching my back and pressing against him. I tasted myself on his lips, his tongue, and I shivered at the erotic effect of smelling my own arousal on his skin.
He nudged my legs wide with his knee, and I didn’t need the prompt of his free hand on my thigh to wrap my legs around his hips.
The hard length of his cock pressed against my slick mound, rubbed right over my clit, and I moaned into his mouth. Barely banked, the fire in my core reignited, sizzling through my veins in single-minded anticipation.
Yes? A purr in my mind.
Yessssss, I hissed back. Then—Wait. Should we use condoms or something?
We don’t carry disease. A pause. And I believe you still have that nifty device inside you that makes you temporarily infertile?
I blinked, gaped at him. How do you…?
Kept tabs on you. He winked.
Winked.
Son of a—
I felt his throaty chuckle in his kiss, and then my mind blanked, all thoughts wiped out as he finally, finally pushed inside me.
My eyes rounded, breath hitching at the intense pleasure-pain of his cock stretching me. Too much, too much, even with all that wetness as lubrication. My thighs tightened around his hips.
He paused, watching my expression intently. “Need a moment?”
I nodded, hauling in a breath. “Maybe that patience of yours,” I muttered, “is not so bad after all.”
One side of his mouth turned up. He leaned forward, trailing slow, tantalizing kisses down my jaw, my throat, all the way to the swell of my breasts. Licking a line of fire to my nipple, he circled the peaked bud, teased it with his teeth, then closed his mouth over it and sucked. I arched into his touch, and my inner muscles clenched around his cock before they relaxed...and the stretch of his girth lessened.
He rocked his hips forward, just a little, but enough to seat himself further inch by inch as I adjusted to his size. His mouth continued wreaking sensual havoc on my breasts while each movement of his dick inside me fired off sparks of renewed desire until I panted, angling my hips to meet his shallow thrusts.
Taking my cue, he made those thrusts deeper, more powerful. I gasped, clutched his shoulder as he nipped at my neck, his hand now on my breast, thumb flicking my nipple. Every stroke of his hips rubbed ag
ainst my clit, drove my arousal higher, higher, higher. My legs trembled with the need to draw him deeper.
In a move too fast for me to even process, he pulled out and flipped me yet again, positioning me on my hands and knees. Spreading my legs wide, he gripped my hips with one hand, the other on my back, and pushed into me again.
I moaned, surrendering to the prickling sensation rushing outward from the renewed erotic invasion, the deeper angle. Hard, he rode me so hard my entire body shook, and I loved every damn second of it. Arching my spine, I threw back my head, my breath matching his quickening thrusts.
Lust and pressure and the promise of bliss coiled inside me. I just needed...needed…
Sharp stinging on my scalp as he gripped my hair, pulled me up until my back met his chest. His other hand slid around to my belly, dipped between my legs, his fingers clamping down on my clit while he continued to pump into me.
I detonated.
There’s no other word for it. I splintered at the seams from an explosion of pleasure.
Faster, harder, his thrusts grew wild and uncontrolled, his own need finally unleashed. My front met the mattress again as he pushed me down while he gripped my hips and rode me until I saw stars.
I barely noticed the moment he found his own pleasure, my mind too foggy with post-orgasmic ecstasy. I just all but collapsed as he savored his climax with slowing thrusts until it was only his hands holding my hips up. My muscles had effectively turned to cooked spaghetti, my bones liquefied.
A long, slow stroke of his hand over my spine, the caress of dark power on my senses. I wheezed with my face half planted into the mattress. My hair was tangled all around my head, and my arms and hands—I wasn’t quite sure what they were doing, where they even were. Did I still have arms? I couldn’t feel them.
Maybe they’d melted.
I considered that option. I couldn’t feel my legs either, for that matter.
Only Azazel’s hands on my hips, and the devastating aftermath of orgasmic destruction in my nether regions.
His fingers tightened their grip as he pulled out, and I groaned at the delicious sting of movement against my battered inner muscles, my sensitized flesh...and at the sudden emptiness, the cooling lick of air on my skin.
