Fallen Angel (Hqn)

by Eden Bradley

  He paused and she heard him breathe her in, making her shudder with a quickly spiraling desire. Her hands fisted in the sheets, knowing what he was about to do.

  When she felt just the warmth of his breath between her thighs, she pulled in a long draft of the cool night air. And when his tongue flicked out, she gasped. He pressed his tongue to her clitoris and held it there. One exquisite heartbeat, then two. Then another. And she thought she might die if he didn’t move.

  “Declan. Kiss me.”

  One long, sweet stroke of his tongue and she was hovering on that keen edge. Her hands went into his hair, impossibly soft, adding another layer of sensation. His fingers held the lips of her sex apart, opening her to his tongue. He pressed it against her, then pushed it inside, and she cried out, her hips arching.

  His hands, his mouth, hard and soft, all at the same time. And she was dizzy with sensation. Drowning in it.

  His tongue pushed into her again, withdrew. His thumbs went to her hard clitoris, circling it, pressing, pressing, his tongue thrusting. A few more strokes and a blaze went off in her head, her body. She shook as she came, her hips bucking. Declan held on to her, pleasure thundering through her like a storm cloud.

  When she stopped shaking he moved up over her body and she spread her thighs for him.

  “Declan,” she gasped, “come into me. Please.”

  He groaned, rolled off her, and she wanted to cry as he turned away to dig in the nightstand drawer. But he was back in a moment, poised over her on his knees, the muscles in his thighs strong and taut.

  “What is it, Declan?”

  “This is to protect you.”

  “From you?”

  “Yes. Trust me, Angel.”

  “I do.”

  She watched as he opened the small packet with his strong, white teeth, took a strange, pale tube out of it and unrolled it onto his hard shaft.

  He looked at her then, his gaze on hers. It was as though he were seeing her for the first time in some different way. And she realized that he was finally seeing her as a woman. For the first time, she truly felt like one.

  She grasped his thighs, loving the texture of his skin, the density of the muscle there, the soft hair.

  “Come into me, Declan.”

  “You’re sure, Angel? You have to be sure.”

  “Only with you.”

  His eyes were dark, glittering. His face soft and loose with desire. He reached out, stroked her hair, her cheek, making her heart beat faster. It was a different kind of need, even more powerful than her purely physical desire.

  “Love me, Declan.”

  His brows drew together and he looked as if he was about to speak. Instead, with a look of awe on his face and with the most tender of hands, he parted her thighs. As he settled his body over hers she drew her legs up, her knees held high on either side of his lean, muscular torso, and waited for him to take the gift she offered him. The one purpose she had spent her life preparing for. It was about to happen. Her heart hammered, her sex clenched in need and anticipation.

  “Now, Declan.”

  He paused. She shivered, held him tighter. Reaching up, he took her hand, their fingers twining, clasping. He held himself over her, his body pressed to hers. His face was so beautiful. Every feature, every plane. And as she watched his face, and he watched hers, he slipped inside.

  There was a tiny piercing pain, like a flash of bright light. Then it was gone. He moved deeper, and pleasure moved with him like a tide. His blue gaze was on hers, blazing even in the dark, and she surged against him, her hips rocking. He moaned.

  “Jesus…are you okay, Angel?”

  “Yes. Yes. Wonderful. Please don’t stop.”

  He pushed deeper, and pleasure was like a long, undulating sigh deep inside her.

  “Ah, Declan, yes…”

  “You’re sure you’re okay?” he panted.

  “Yes, I promise. I need you, Declan. I need to feel all of you inside my body.”

  He leaned in and kissed her, whispered against her mouth. “Angel, Angel…you feel so damn good. So good…”

  He began to really move then, long, slow, lovely thrusts. And she opened her legs, her body, to him, taking him in. Desire poured through her system, that pure, aching need for him filled, then filled again, until she thought she might overflow with it.

  His arms went around her waist, and he held her close, changing the angle of his thrust. Unbelievable, how good he felt. She was shivering with pleasure, tensing all over, her legs wrapping around him, across his wide back.

  She had never known it would be so exquisite: to feel his body joined with hers. To feel that low, keening bliss, spiraling higher and higher. To be held so tightly in his arms. His scent was everywhere. On his skin. On hers. He pumped into her, his lips going to her throat, latching on, kissing her, his tongue swirling against her skin.

  “Declan, I need more.”

  He ground harder, driving into her. She hovered at that lovely edge for moments, then fell, tumbling. Her climax was like a fluttering, brilliant light going off behind her eyes, deep in her sex, her belly, her breasts. She cried out. And he held her tighter, drove deeper.

  “Angel,” he murmured, his breath warm against her throat. “Love you, Angel…”

  “Declan, yes.”

  Her heart was like a small hammer in her chest.

  He gasped, tensed, his hips arching hard into her. And it was pain and a new kind of pleasure as he came inside her, his entire body pulsing.

  “Angel…Angel…God.”

  He fell on top of her and they were both panting. She had never felt so wonderful in her life. She loved the weight of his body on hers. Their skin, slick with sweat, pressed together.

  He loved her.

  She’d known it, but to hear it…

  She had never thought she could feel so happy. That sex could be even more pure and beautiful than she’d been taught.

  This was what her life was meant to be. Here, with him.

  Declan.

  This moment, with him, was so beautiful to her. Precious. She wanted it to last forever. She was too impossibly languid to really think, her body still humming with sensation. With him still inside her.

  She hung on, her hands clasping behind his head, his hair like dark silk against her palms. Burying her face in his neck, she inhaled, breathed him in.

  Forever. This was where she was meant to be.

  CHAPTER TEN

  DECLAN PULLED IN A LONG BREATH, the night air cool in his lungs. Realizing Angel was still pressed beneath him, he rolled onto his back. She went with him, burrowing into his side, and he took her automatically into his arms, where she laid her head on his chest.

  Her cheek was so warm against his skin. Her waist so tiny he could wrap his arm all the way around it. And her hair was everywhere, covering her body and his like a sheaf of silk. He pulled her closer with his other arm, his fingers tracing the scars on her shoulder blades. Whoever had done it had wanted to make space for wings to grow. For her to fly.

  He couldn’t think about that now. Too horrible, the reason behind those scars. He didn’t know why he was thinking about it. He could hardly think straight at all. Could still barely breathe. Could still barely believe what they’d done.

  And he was thinking things he’d never thought about any other woman.

  But it had felt right. She felt right. She felt perfect. Scars and all.

  Maybe that was how he was justifying to himself that he’d just taken her virginity. But he hadn’t been able to resist. Not anymore.

  It was more than the insane attraction he felt the moment he first laid eyes on her, even when she’d been broken and half-alive on the beach. He’d pretty much stopped beating himself up for that. But was it possible he could accept this? That there could be something between them? He couldn’t fucking help what he felt for her. There was no way to stop it. It was too powerful.

  And God, he wanted to be with her. He never wanted to let her g
o. He’d never felt this way for anyone. That to simply hold her naked body next to his, to kiss her, talk with her, make love to her again, was all he’d ever need.

  Was he some kind of bastard for doing this? For loving her?

  He loved her. Goddamn it, he did.

  He held her tighter and she sighed, pressing into him. Her plush breasts were crushed against his side, her leg sliding over his.

  “Declan,” she whispered, “I never knew…I thought I did. Let’s never get out of this bed.”

  He laughed, then, all the bullshit in his head slipping away. He pulled her on top of him and kissed her. Her lips parted, her sweet tongue sliding into his mouth. She took control of the kiss, probing, grazing his lips with her teeth.

  He lay back while she explored, her mouth moving down his neck, over his chest. He couldn’t get hard again—not yet. But every touch of lips and teeth and tongue, every soft sweep of her hand or her hair, was pure pleasure.

  She moved lower, took one of his nipples into her mouth and sucked, and he felt a new stirring of desire. Impossible. But she sucked harder, her tongue lapping, and when she bit, hard, his cock jumped, wanting to fill.

  “Can we do it again, Declan?” she asked.

  “Sweetheart, you have to give me a chance to recover.”

  “How long?”

  “An hour? Maybe less for you.”

  “Too long.”

  She slid up his body, her breasts against his chest, her warm stomach pressed to his, her cleft against the soft flesh of his cock. She was wet again. Or still.

  “Are you sore, Angel?”

  “A little. I don’t care.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t. You never could.”

  He felt a sharp twinge in his chest. He never wanted to let her down. Not here, not now. Not ever.

  “Come here.”

  He pulled her up, helping her to straddle his waist. Her wet sex was slick on his stomach, and he felt his cock stir again. But it was too soon. And if he tried it again now, she would be too sore.

  “Rise up, Angel. Hold yourself up on your knees. Yeah, that’s it.”

  She was poised over him; he could see her beautiful body in the dim moonlight. Her breasts were two perfect globes of flesh. Succulent, squeezed together between her arms, her hands on his chest to steady herself. He stroked one nipple and she arched her back, pressing into his hand. He took the nipple between his fingers, pressing and releasing.

  “Ah, I love that, Declan. It feels so good. But I need you to touch me. Everywhere. Between my thighs.”

  God, that she could say that to him, tell him what she wanted without any inhibition.

  He reached down with one hand, stroking her. She moaned, arching into his hand. He found the hard nub of her clit and circled.

  “Oh, yes…that’s lovely.”

  He rubbed and she moved her hips in rhythm. He watched her as she bit her lip, her teeth coming down on that plush, pink flesh. She was so damn beautiful he could hardly believe it. Really like some angel come to earth.

  His angel.

  “Declan, this is so good,” she panted. “But I need more.”

  “You’ll have to wait a while for me.” He laughed, loving the stark need in her voice.

  “I need to feel you. To feel a part of you.”

  “Come here then, my baby.”

  He pulled her down, until her sweet, damp cleft was laid over his softening flesh. She felt so good he could almost…but not yet. No, this was for her.

  He grasped her hips with his hands, showed her how to slide back and forth. And even though it was far too soon to get hard again, it felt amazing—her slippery flesh against his, the pleasure on her face, the look of wonder in her blue eyes.

  “Oh, this is good,” she murmured, her eyes closing, her head falling back.

  Something inside him opened and a strange warmth settled in. Something to do with the sheer wonder of her body, of her beautiful response. To see her like this, watching what she felt reflected in the sinuous writhing of her hips, the expression on her lovely face. Her pink lips parted, her quiet moans.

  She moved faster, ground down harder against him. Pleasure filled him: mind and body, as her moans grew louder.

  “Declan,” she gasped.

  “Yes, baby. Come on.”

  “Oh…ohhh…”

  It was a long, keening cry, her body undulating, her sex like liquid fire against his nearly hard flesh as she came.

  For her.

  Yes, his own desire was nothing right now. It was all about Angel.

  She dropped, burying her face in his neck, and he breathed her in: her scent, her presence.

  She was laid out on top of him, her weight nothing on his body. She was so small, everything except her full, heavy breasts. But he was beginning to realize there was nothing fragile about his Angel.

  His Angel.

  His.

  He rolled her over, until they both lay on their sides. Her arms wound around his neck, her face pressed into his chest.

  He couldn’t figure out this sense of possession he felt with her. But he was too exhausted to think straight right now. There would be plenty of time to think in the morning. To figure out if he’d just done something really terrible. Reprehensible. Or if this was the best thing he’d done in his entire life.

  * * *

  SHE WAS FALLING, THE WARM wind whispering over her skin. She felt wonderful, light and loose all over. She wished briefly, in some vague way, for Asmodeus, to share with him what she had experienced. But she was too content to call for him. Too comfortable in the familiar, falling darkness, with the lovely, aching sensations in her body. She would happily fall alone while Declan rested. She knew this empty place, knew it was a place of rest and recovery for her body. When she awoke she would be ready for him once more.

  Declan.

  Her body lit with need simply thinking his name. Her hands went to her breasts, cupping them through the strands of her long hair that had wrapped around her body in the wind. She thumbed her nipples, luxuriated in the hardening flesh, the urgent pulse-beat of blood in her veins. She pictured his beautiful face, the iris-blue of his eyes, the lushness of his mouth, and she went damp with need.

  She spread her thighs, let one hand slip down to stroke her wet cleft. Ah, it was too good. But not nearly as good as when Declan touched her. She could almost come simply thinking about it: the way he touched her, the gentle pant of his breath in her mouth, the heat of his body, the press of his hard flesh inside her.

  She pushed two fingers inside, going deep for the first time, since she no longer had to preserve her virginity. That gift had been given, and received. Beautifully.

  “Oh…”

  Yes, she would come, here. Now. For Declan.

  Her hips arched into her hand. She squeezed her nipple, drove her fingers hard into her pulsing sex, pressed her thumb to her clitoris. Her climax rose inside her, hovered. She took in a breath, readied herself.

  “Girl!”

  “Asmodeus…”

  It felt wrong, suddenly, that her demon lover was there with her. Sensation skittered to a stop, faded, her body aching, but unwilling to come in his presence.

  She did not belong with him now. She belonged to Declan. With him, which was even better.

  “You dared,” Asmodeus said to her, his tone low, threatening. He didn’t have to finish his sentence; she knew exactly what he was talking about.

  “Asmodeus, it was right. It is right. I am for him. I know that now.”

  “I trained you, girl.” His body, his flawless face, gleamed golden in the dark, heat radiating from him. But it was a different heat than the sensual warmth she was used to. This was a burning heat that singed her skin. But she was not afraid. She was too sure of herself, of what she had done.

  “Yes, Asmodeus. And for that I thank you. Truly.”

  “I did not teach you these things for a mere man.”

  “Yet
you agreed to teach me to be irresistible to him. You helped me.”

  “I did not teach you for him. Not for him.”

  “The one you taught me for rejected me.”

  “And what of me?” His voice was tight and low.

  Was that fear she heard in his voice? Sadness?

  Was it possible that all along he had wanted her for himself?

  “You were meant to be my teacher,” she told him. “And you have been so much more. Lover and friend and confidant.”

  “But no longer.”

  It was a statement, not a question, made in a voice laced with bitterness. Still, she had to think carefully about her answer.

  “I must be honest with you, Asmodeus. I no longer know what your role in my life will be. Everything has changed.”

  “I have not.”

  “But I have. For the first time. I have changed beyond your teachings, the teachings of The Grandmother. I’ve grown beyond even the many things I’ve read in books, most of which did not apply to my existence, but was nothing more than information stored in my head, to ponder over, to wonder at. To amuse myself with. And I am having to reevaluate everything. Every single thing. Who I am, who and what I’ll be. Until now, there has never been any question about any of this. Even having to consider these things is…an epiphany for me. Declan is helping me—”

  “Do not say his name to me,” Asmodeus growled.

  She nodded. “I understand. But I cannot promise you that I will seek you out any longer.”

  He looked away. She had never seen this sort of emotion from him. Perhaps there had never been any reason for him to feel anything other than pleasure and arrogance and his own power. She had not given him any reason to. She had only ever given him complete power over her. Reason to exist in her dream-life. In her mind.

  In my mind…

  She remained quiet, waiting for him to respond. Finally, he turned back to her, his voice still low, but softer now. Seductive, almost. “You do not know how to exist without me, little one.”

  “I never have before. But that, too, is changing.”

  “And yet, I am here, as I have always been.”