by Jodi Redford
“You’re dripping, baby. I think you like being spanked. Or maybe it was sucking my cock that got you all juiced up.” His fingers delved inside her channel and found that hidden spot that made brilliant sparkles shoot behind her eyelids. She gasped and wiggled on the table. Something wet and soft darted over her clit. Sam’s tongue. The devious tormenter was using the same teasing technique she’d employed on him. Helpless murmurs tumbled from her mouth, and he chuckled. “Payback’s a bitch, darlin’.”
“Sam, please…”
Ignoring her pleas, he alternated torturing her clit with leisurely figure eights and fast flickers of his tongue. The cresting orgasm loomed closer and ever bigger. Desperate sobs lodged in her throat. Her body went rigid, poised on the precipice. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t focus on anything beyond the approaching climax. Without warning, Sam stopped. She trembled, disbelieving that he would be cruel enough to leave her hanging so close to completion. “S-Sam?”
He was silent so long she began to suspect he was no longer in the room. Just as she was about to flip over to see where he could have gone, his entire mouth closed over her. She cried out at the unexpectedness of it. Gripping her hips, he held her imprisoned to his intense ravishment. He suctioned onto her clit and pulsed it repeatedly with his tongue. The orgasm crashed into her with the force of a tsunami, ripping a scream from her throat. Sam’s tongue continued working her, drawing out the quakes and ultimately spiraling her into an unending climax.
Finally his mouth abandoned her, but she quickly learned he was nowhere near finished. He lifted her slightly away from the table, and his cock nudged at her slit. The soaked state of her pussy made his entry a smooth, easy glide. All of the sensory nerve endings he’d whipped into a frenzy fired into hyperdrive. It was as if she didn’t possess the ability to not come.
Gasping, she writhed upon the table as wave after lush wave pummeled her body. Her inner channel continuously contracted around Sam’s cock, squeezing and clenching, making her acutely aware of every hard, thick centimeter of him.
His fingers tunneled through her hair, pushing it away from her nape. A second later his growl brushed her skin, followed by the scrape of his teeth. The inherent possessiveness of the gesture hurtled her completely over the cliff, and she cried out, her body jerking with uncontrollable spasms. Sam held her tight to him, his palms a cushion between her breasts and the wood grain as he pounded into her, shaking the entire table. A moment later, his thrusts faltered and he gave one last pump of his hips before a broken groan tore from him and his body shuddered on top of her.
For several minutes they lay on the table, their harsh breaths the only reprieve from silence. Just as she was about to drift off, Sam’s weight lifted from her. She cracked one eye open and was treated to the mouthwatering sight of his muscled glutes as he bent to pitch the used condom into the wastebasket under the sink.
He turned and caught her eye. “Don’t plan on getting much sleep tonight.” With that preemptive warning, he scooped her into his arms and strode toward the bedroom.
Chapter Nineteen
Somewhere around three in the morning, Sam let Marabella get some rest. Unable to take his eyes off her, he watched her face while she snoozed. Even in the darkest hours of night, her inner sunshine proved a radiant beacon.
Shit. If anyone fit the image of an angel, it was her. The damn writing had been on the wall all this time, and he’d been too blind to see it. Well, not entirely. His body sure as hell had read the signs and responded to her angel light like it was an intoxicating drug. Hence their recent eight-hour sexual Olympics.
The really scary part? He wasn’t even close to being sated. In fact, he was damn tempted to wake Marabella up and go at it for another eight.
So much for exorcising her from his mind.
Rather than give in to his baser urges—and risk landing himself in traction for pulling an overused groin muscle—he climbed from the bed and ventured into the living room. After yanking his jeans on, he sprawled onto the couch and stared at the ceiling for what seemed like hours as he processed the multitude of disturbed thoughts tumbling around in his brain.
He didn’t know who he was anymore. With each passing second, he imagined one more layer of his old self flaking from his soul and withering away into nothingness. He scrubbed a hand over his face. I need to get a damn grip. Grabbing the remote, he clicked on the TV and muted it. He whiled away a few more hours focusing blankly on the silent images flashing across the screen. Finally the first pink rays of dawn streamed through the windows. He abandoned the couch and returned to the bedroom.
Marabella stretched on the tangled mess of the sheets and gifted him a sleepy smile. That was all the invitation he needed to strip out of his jeans. Tossing aside his prior resolutions like yesterday’s garbage, he climbed onto the bed so he could relearn her body all over again.
Starting at her bellybutton, he lapped a slow path toward her breasts. For several minutes he contented himself laving her nipples into stiff peaks and listening to her choppy breaths. Reversing his course, he kissed the valley of her abdomen, even stopping momentarily to dip his tongue into her navel before settling between her legs and spreading her pink folds with his thumbs. The previous sexual marathon made him well acquainted with her pussy, but that didn’t hinder his desire to become a true expert on her sensitive anatomy.
Aware that she was likely tender from his prior devotion, he kept his oral caresses limited to soft, gentle licks and barely there flickers of the tip of his tongue across her clit. Her hips arched and an incoherent cry spilled from her as a steady pulse thrummed through the slippery nub beating beneath his tongue.
The delicious essence of her lingering in his mouth, he rolled to the side and fumbled to reach the box of condoms resting on the nightstand. Impatience making his fingers clumsy, he wrestled with one of the foil packets and freed the ring of latex. He smoothed the condom over his aching erection. Positioning the head of his cock at Marabella’s entrance, he braced a fist on the mattress and thrust inside her. Wet, silky heat enveloped his cock. There was no damn way he’d last long. Four strokes later, he proved the validity of that thought as he came with a strangled shout. His limbs shaky, he slumped to the side.
He must have dozed briefly because the gentle glide of Marabella’s hand on his spine roused him with a groggy start. A grunt fell from him when he realized he hadn’t even pulled out of her. Leaving the bed yet again, he went to dispose of the condom.
He grimaced at the semi-erect state of his cock. “Down, boy. You’re gonna sprain something if you keep this up.”
Shit. He was talking to his fucking cock. He was even more broken than he’d originally thought.
He walked back into the bedroom and noticed Marabella was nowhere to be seen. Frowning, he hiked his jeans on and traipsed from the room. He followed the sound of her cheery singing and ultimately found her in the kitchen pouring water into a coffeemaker. He eyed her hips as they swayed beneath her pink satin robe, keeping time with her a capella tune.
His dick hardened with renewed interest, but he ignored it. “You’re a morning person. I shoulda known.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” The cordless phone resting on the counter rang, snagging her attention. She plunked the jug of water down and went to answer the call. “Hello? Oh, hi, Cass.” She absently wound a strand of hair around her pinky. “Yeah, we’re decent. Pop in whenever you want. I was just about to get breakfast going.”
A breeze of air behind him announced the expedient arrival of his cousins. “I’m starved,” Nikki announced without preamble. “What are we having?”
Marabella snatched two more mugs from the cupboard. “Do you like French toast?”
Sam snorted. “It’s food, so yes.”
Nikki’s eyes narrowed. “You better be nice to me. I haven’t decided if I’ve forgiven you for throwing my shoe at me yesterday.”
“You threw it at me first.”
“Merel
y a technicality.”
Cass gave her sister and him a look that amounted to the visual equivalent of children behave before she leaned against the counter next to Marabella. “Did you guys get things worked out last night?”
A blush crept over Marabella’s cheeks. “In a manner of speaking.”
Cass’s wide smile damn near lit up the room. “Good.”
He wanted to point out to his matchmaking cousin that he and Marabella boinking like bunnies for hours on end didn’t change anything. They were still two species on opposite ends of the cosmic spectrum. Their insatiable appetite for each other didn’t solve that complication. Shit, it only added to it, since it made it damn difficult to keep his head on straight long enough to remember he’d be a hell of a lot saner staying out of Marabella’s bed.
The sooner they got to the bottom of this mystery with Pricilla, the better. Then he could move on and put all of this behind him. Including Marabella.
Especially Marabella.
Another of those odd stitches of pain cramped his heart, and he rubbed the area until the burn lessened. “Did you ever hear from that bozo Hal if he tracked down info on that address?”
“Oh, that reminds me. He was supposed to call me last night.” Cass unclipped her cell from her belt and flipped it open. She punched in some numbers and held the device to her ear. “Hal? It’s Cass. Any chance you’ve got the 4-1-1 on that address I gave you?” Another beaming grin stretched her mouth. “I knew you’d be able to deliver. You’re the freaking bomb, dude. Okay, lay it on me.” There was a brief silence on Cass’s end as she listened to whatever Hal was saying. Her eyes slowly inching wider, she stared at Sam. Whatever information Hal was imparting must have been a doozy. Finally she nodded and thanked Hal before issuing a goodbye and hanging up.
“Well?” Sam and Nikki demanded in unison.
“Hal was able to pinpoint the coordinates.”
“So we gathered,” Sam said impatiently. “Who is the soul?”
“Aster Batticus.”
He frowned. “The demon king’s former handler? Why the hell would Pricilla be interested in him?”
Cass slipped her phone back in place. “Good question.”
A subtle cough intruded from Marabella and he, Cass and Nikki glanced in her direction. “What is a handler?”
“It’s another term for master,” he replied.
Marabella’s eyebrows winged upward. “The demon king had a master? I wouldn’t have thought anyone with that high of a title would be ruled by anyone but himself.”
“Marcus Bahltair hasn’t always been king,” Cass explained. “For that matter, there hasn’t always been a governing body in the demon realm. Marcus saw the need to organize his fellow associates into some semblance of an orderly society, so he formed the council and they crowned him king in deference to his station.”
A frown crinkled Marabella’s forehead. “What station did he have if he wasn’t yet king?”
“He’s the only immortal demon in existence,” Nikki said as she reached around Marabella for one of the mugs. “Aster branded him with that one-of-a-kind seal, supposedly out of gratitude for Marcus’s lifetime of devoted servitude.” A snort fell from her while she poured the coffee. “Hard to believe that arrogant playboy was ever devoted to anyone but himself.”
Sam scratched his jaw. “I still don’t understand why Pricilla charged me to fetch Aster.”
“I’ve got news for you. Apparently she hasn’t given up on her quest to grab him. According to Hal, Pricilla’s been making discreet inquiries with some of the reapers—presumably in hopes of finding one with the security clearance to be able to make the trip to that section of the Wards.”
“Now she’s trying to do deals with reapers?” He plowed a hand through his hair. “What the bloody fuck?”
“Try being the operative word,” Cass pointed out. “Regardless, it confirms our prior suspicions about her wanting to do this outside the radar of the council, since she isn’t attempting to acquire another demon soul collector as your replacement.”
He exchanged a long look with Cass, easily reading in her gaze that she was as suspicious of Pricilla’s motives as he was. Whatever Pris’s ultimate plan for Aster was, it couldn’t be good. Not with as sneaky and conniving as she was being. Hell, she was always sneaky and conniving, but this took it to a whole new extreme.
Cass chewed her lip. “There’s only one option here. We have to get to Aster before Pricilla does.”
“Why? She’s not going to be able to go anywhere near him.”
“We don’t know that, Sam.” Obvious worry brewed in Cass’s eyes. “If she wants him bad enough—and it sure as hell sounds like it—she’ll find a way. You know how ruthless Pricilla is. Look at the lengths she went to in seizing your contract.”
Cass would get no argument from him there. “Fine. You’re right. But you’re missing one glaring obstacle. We can’t get anywhere near Aster.”
Cass rolled her lips together and averted her gaze. “Maybe not yet, but we could change that.”
“How?” He tossed up his arms. “By me miraculously growing my seal back and busting into the Death Wards?” He huffed a sarcastic laugh.
Cass shuffled her feet. “Err…in a matter of speaking, yes, that’s exactly how we’re going to do it.”
Her no-nonsense tone earned his incredulous stare. She must have smoked some whacky tobacky before popping over here. It was the only explanation for her sudden loss of sanity. “How the hell do you propose that happening?”
“You can be rebranded. I came across that information when I originally investigated how to break your seal, but I didn’t figure we’d have to go that route, so that’s why I didn’t say anything.”
Her startling pronouncement elicited conflicting pangs of dread and excitement in his belly. To regain his soul-collector seal—a status he alternately coveted and despised—was a heady and horrible prospect. “I’m not going to indenture myself to that motherfucking council, Cass. I don’t care how badly you want me to go after Aster. It’s not damn well gonna happen.”
“I’m not suggesting you go through the council.”
“Uh, then how exactly will he be rebranded?” Nikki interjected.
“Technically, all he needs is the spell and sanction of a witch.” Cass’s gaze drifted in Marabella’s direction.
Everyone was deathly silent for an interminable moment. Then all hell broke loose as he, Marabella and Nikki started yelling at Cass at the same time.
Cass winced and held up a hand. “Please, I only have one set of eardrums.” She pointed at Sam. “You get seniority in this discussion since it’s your ass being branded, so go.”
“I’m not doing it.”
Cass’s finger veered toward Marabella. “Your turn.”
Sam growled. “Did you not hear me, damn it? I’m. Not. Doing. It.” He bit each syllable through clenched teeth.
“Your response is shelved for the time being until all parties involved have spoken.” Cass offered Marabella a look that bordered on pleading. “What do you think of this plan?”
“She thinks it’s stupid and insane. Just like I do.”
Cass sighed. “Sam, you’ve had your turn. Don’t make me give you a time-out in the corner.” She gave Marabella an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “You have the floor. Go ahead and voice whatever questions or concerns you have.”
“I’m a white witch. I—I can’t have a demon for a familiar,” Marabella stuttered, her eyes wide as saucers.
“Don’t forget the half-angel part,” he muttered. “No doubt having me chained to your side would get you kicked out of the Angel-of-the-Month club.”
Cass shot him an exasperated scowl. “I’m not kidding about that time-out.” She returned her scrutiny to Marabella. “Is there a law about you not having a demon familiar?”
“Actually, yes.”
Cass’s face fell. “Damn, you white witches are real sticklers for convention.” She chewed on her
thumbnail before releasing a determined exhale. “Look, I understand where you’re coming from. But sometimes rules are meant to be broken. Especially when there’s a potential disaster waiting to detonate if Pricilla sinks her claws into Aster. Who knows what the ripple effect could be of whatever she has up her sleeve? It could potentially impact everyone.”
Marabella’s face went pale as she clutched the counter behind her. “D-do you think it could be as sinister as that?”
He growled beneath his breath. “Cass is only making assumptions. She doesn’t know anything.”
“You’re right. I don’t. But it’s safe to assume the worst when it comes to Pricilla. We’d be foolish not to.”
Marabella stared at the wood floor beneath her feet for an interminable, silent moment. She swallowed and lifted her gaze to him. A barely discernable tremble quivered her lips before she shifted her attention to Cass. “What would I have to do?”
A hot wave of anguished frustration welled from the pit of his gut, threatening to consume him. How could she agree to this fool’s mission? “Am I the only one here who has any damn sense?” He slid a desperate glance toward Nikki.
She responded with a shrug. “Hey, if it’ll work, why not?”
“Why not? Because I don’t fucking want to do this,” he roared. “But then it obviously doesn’t matter jack shit what I want. Not that it ever has. When it comes to controlling my life, I’ve never held the reins. Why should now be any different?” He’d been a damn fool to think he’d ever be free. Freedom was for dreamers, not a cynic like him who couldn’t afford to believe in the impossible.
With the walls closing in on him and the mocking laughter of fate ringing in his ears, he pivoted and stalked from the room.
Chapter Twenty
Marabella watched Sam disappear around the corner of the kitchen archway, her heart breaking. She blinked the tears from her eyes and took a halting step forward before dragging her feet to a stop. Everything inside her reached out toward him, wanting to hug him close and ease his pain. But he didn’t want that. He didn’t want her.
