by Andrea Allen
Though dazed, her eyes eventually focused on Crowley, who had remained kneeling beside her, his hands oddly gentle as he stroked her body, tickling curves and running gentle circuits over bare limbs, his touch reassuring and lustful at the same time. His tail whipped behind him, pointed tip thrashing and curling at the air in a manner Ambriel could only interpret as pleased, something that made her unaccountably happy to consider. All her fighting, all her resistance, had led her here—exhausted and kneeling in some strange kinship with the two demons, petted and luxuriating in the warm glow that followed. Paradise seemed so far away.
And yet, Ambriel could not muster the strength to care. She stared across the river to the other bank, could see the pathway that led upward to Paradise that the dead would take, and yet, some throbbing in her brought her attention back to the demons, the way her clit thumped in time with her heartbeat drawing her elsewhere, somewhere better. She looked to Crowley, expectantly.
“Will you come with us?” For a second, Crowley sounded almost vulnerable, before he regained his confident beat the moment Ambriel nodded, barely even thinking at this point. She stared, entranced by the handsome demon before her and thoroughly addicted to the sensations he could give her. Climactic aftershocks still shook her body every now and then, little twinges of pleasure that reminded her of what Earthly delights could truly be.
“This place isn’t exactly right for fucking,’’ Eo rumbled behind them, casting a scattered glance around the dead-strewn river. He may have been a demon, but ghosts still unsettled him some. Eo’s place was traditionally in tempting the living, after all.
“Yes, we have a little love nest far better suited to what we intend for you, Mayflower,” Crowley nodded. He grinned, and the simple curve of his mouth, the fangs showing therein, bespoke a lascivious confidence that sent a shiver down Ambriel’s spine. “I know what just happened to you was memorable, but believe me, it was barely the beginning. Once you Fall completely, you’ll see just what it is that we can offer you.”
“Am I… Falling?” Ambriel asked, her voice distant. She could scarcely believe it herself, but with sex hormones still coursing through a body totally unprepared to deal with them, nothing seemed more attractive in that moment.
“You’re opening yourself to new experiences,” Crowley shrugged. “If you find that to still be evil after tonight, well, that’s on you. Falling is just ending up with your feet on the ground, Mayflower.”
He rose, then took to his feet, which Ambriel noticed for the first time were bare. His toes flexed in the black sand, the tips of his lower wings drawing shallow trails in the shore. Looking up at him now, she could see that he truly did sit astride both worlds, with horns and wings and tail, a Seraph made somehow more by his fall, indulgence making him complex and powerful. If she concentrated, Ambriel could see the flickering of his own true self beneath the one he had chosen, countless more wings spanning from his broad back, a flaming sword floating at the core of his being, a soul-bound weapon he could call on whenever he desired.
When Crowley had been Ikaros, he truly had been something far beyond Ambriel herself. She had been a fool to think she could have resisted temptation, when a Grigori could not.
When he offered her his hand, Ambriel took it, her calves making impressions in the sand as she rose, naked, to her feet, and allowed the demon to lead her through the doorway on the mortal side of the river, leading out into the mortal realm. As they passed through that shimmering gate, Ambriel reflected on the fact that most that came here did not get to do this; for most, the path to the River Styx only led one way.
But that was Paradise’s rule, not one that the Fallen needed to follow.
Crowley’s path, to Ambriel’s surprise, came out directly into the same bedroom that she and the demons had first confronted one another, what seemed like forever ago. The human she had been sent to save then was not present. In fact the entire place was empty, Ambriel could tell immediately. But simply being there again, at the site that had precipitated her Fall, threw her momentarily for a loop. Stumbling, she let Crowley take advantage of her sudden lack of balance and place her onto the bed, mattress bending beneath her.
Ambriel blinked. She wasn’t used to the physical world reacting to her presence so readily. Evidently, the Fallen were more present in these lower spaces than those from the Upper realm.
“We’ve got plenty of time here,” Crowley said, answering one of many questions that had leapt to Ambriel’s mind. “The couple that live here are—separately—hitting the clubs tonight. Seeing what trouble they can get up to. Consequently, their home is free for us to see the same thing.”
Ambriel stared, a squirming sort of apprehension growing in her chest. There was enjoying victory, and then there was twisting the knife, and the soon-to-be-ex angel suspected this fell into the latter category. On the other hand, this was one of few places in the human world that the demons would reliably know to be unoccupied, and it wasn’t like they could have taken her to their realm.
That was the thing about Crowley. Even the things he did that seemed outright vicious had a twisted kind of logic to them, just enough plausible deniability to make it seem like, just perhaps, he wasn’t operating solely on malice.
“I want to see you truly let go, Mayflower,” Crowley crooned, slipping up onto the bed beside her. His teeth nipped her neck, drawing a little spike of pain, a momentary addition to the textured sensation of skin against skin, of actually being touched. In this melange of feeling, pain was not a simplistic bad thing, but something complex, that could be savored, even if just for a second, alongside the smooth glide of Crowley’s touch, the heft of Eo’s palm in the small of her back, the silken texture of the sheets beneath Ambriel’s bare ass. The whisper of the demon’s voice, intermingled with all that, was sheer music.
“Your first orgasm is something, but I haven’t seen you really revel in this, Ambriel,” the demon continued, slowly, gently positioning the angel onto her hands and knees on the mattress, crumpled blue sheets all around. “We’ll show you how, don’t worry. Eo will be gentle.”
She hadn’t realized the big demon had positioned himself behind her until Crowley drew her attention to it, but Eo now loomed over Ambriel’s backside, his hands firmly on either of her hips. Looking between her legs, the erstwhile angel could see his hard, nigh-throbbing member, ready to push inside, right where Crowley’s tongue had just been. This was a lot to take in, the idea that whatever virginity an angel might actually have would be taken from her in short order, but when she tried to find Crowley she found the demon kneeling in front of her face, his cock just as hard and bobbing before her.
“We’ll show you what to do, Mayflower. Just… relax, let your body do what it wants. It won’t steer you wrong.”
The two demons shared a look, a moment to prepare, and then, they began to work. Crowley stroked one hand through Ambriel’s auburn hair and, as Eo began to slowly, gently push forward from behind, the ashen Grigori guided Ambriel’s head forward, her mouth toward his bobbing erection. The angel felt her lips part as they touched the head, working on some bone-deep instinct, some pulsing lust that needed no words to put her on the right path for it. He slid into her mouth at precisely the moment that Eo pushed past her lower lips and into her pussy; between them, the angel shivered with lust, a moan thrumming in her throat.
It was different than Crowley’s tongue, different than being held up and licked by the demon’s skillful mouth. Not merely in terms of sensation, which was itself vastly different, but psychologically, spiritually, taking this pair of cocks was distinct from the oral sex she had experienced earlier. She accepted these others into her body, unified with them deep in herself, tasting Crowley on her tongue and feeling Eo as a deep, solid impact to her hindquarters. It was a touch beyond touch, something so intimate that Ambriel didn’t have a word for it, but found descriptors and adjectives bouncing through her mind all the same, new ones with every thrust; forceful, tantalizing, plea
surable.
Hot.
Crowley crooned to her as, for the first time, the angel fucked, undulating her hips back against the demon behind her, taking Eo’s erection to the root time and again. She allowed the momentum of this to carry her forward, her mouth down Crowley’s shaft, allowing his softly spoken encouragements to guide her, drawing her out of her shell as she swayed, naked, between the pair. The more she did this, the more Ambriel could hear Crowley’s voice hitch in his throat, his pleasure growing more obvious by the second, and along with Eo’s growling moans behind her, proved to be the greatest motivation of all.
She had never known it would be like this, that she would yearn to see their pleasure as she did, that it would enhance her own so, that sex would be a partnership between parties and not some selfish, rutting thing. That she could give, with the pulsing muscles of her pussy and the slurping suction of her mouth, and not merely take, no matter how wonderful the pounding thrusts of the demons truly felt.
This was… union, the three of them working toward a common end that was a good in itself.
Whenever she looked up, Ambriel could see Crowley looking back, searching for something in her eyes. Without needing to be told, she knew precisely what it was, and with pleasure flowing through her in a rich, golden tide, she tried to give it to him, opening herself as much as she could. He wanted to see her let go, he had said; well, he had certainly given her a wonderful incentive to do so.
So when she moaned around the cock in her mouth, and plunged it so deep that it hit the back of her throat, eliciting a gag and tears to her eyes, Ambriel could see the triumph in Crowley, perhaps before the demon could even feel it himself. She knew what he was seeing in her then, an angel committed to her Fall, open and free, unafraid of her body and what could be done with it, for the first time in her long, long life. Clear blue eyes, looking up in ecstasy, wondering at what might come next. The guarded expression that had come to define the Queen of Cups all but obliterated, and replaced by the blushing, panting woman that knelt between them.
When they came, she and Crowley came together, the spurting wetness of his seed on her tongue just as intoxicating as the rippling, contracting pleasure of her own orgasm. Her lips clasped tight around his shaft, Ambriel moaned, deep and satisfied, the sound thrumming up through Crowley as vibrations. She swallowed, instinctively, heedlessly, just to feel his warmth slide further into her, and when he was done filling her she let him slip from her lips and collapsed to the bed, legs spread to allow Eo to continue to have his way with her for a few moments more.
Her breaths came in juddering pants for the few minutes more that the large demon fucked her, his thrusts coming in hard, singular motions, like the pounding of a hammer on an anvil. Each one was a dizzying swirl of pleasure and impact, a slight, slapping pain that only added to the ecstasy of it. Her pussy gripped him as tightly as it could, making each withdrawal something the demon had to work for, and it was on one such out-stroke that he came, finally, his come a blistering heat that clung to Ambriel’s wet inner walls and dripped out around the edges of their union. She became well and truly filled, shivering as Eo’s thick cock twitched with each climactic spurt until, spent, he slipped from her well used hole.
For a time, there was panting breath and a gathering of wits, nobody quite knowing what to say. Crowley lounged on his side, looking for all the world as though nothing strenuous had happened. Only the beads of sweat on his abs suggested otherwise, and without knowing why Ambriel reached out to touch him, running shaking fingers down the inclines of his chest. The demon made a soft, approving noise, but did nothing else.
Ambriel didn’t want to take her eyes off of him, but it was impossible for her to escape the fact that what they had done carried a permanence that she could not erase. She had Fallen, and worse, she had done so in the very same home that had contained her previous failure, in which two people now lived who were very clearly heading for a divorce. Ambriel found herself strangely ambivalent about the Fall itself, counting on Crowley to show her the way there, but she could not discount the fact that those two humans, humans she had been sent to protect, had come out of her moral lapse worse off for it.
“Did we…” She stopped, knowing that the short, breathless way she was speaking was not at all appropriate for the type of question she was asking. Ambriel let it sit on her tongue a moment longer, gathering her thoughts before continuing. “Did we do the right thing? Those people… you split them apart, and I just allowed you to.”
“We opened a new option for them, a third way,” Crowley said, taking Ambriel by the hip and drawing her closer. “Yes, perhaps fucking you in their bed was a bit of a dick move, but I am a demon now, remember. There would have been struggle in remaining together, for them. Perhaps they would have made it work, but it was equally likely they’d simply force themselves to stay in a loveless marriage because it was what was expected of them. They might still decide to reconcile, but Eo and I took forcing themselves to stay together off the table.”
He sat up then, brushed the hair away from his horns, so that they glinted in the moonlight, strangely beautiful. When he looked down at Ambriel, it was with the air of a teacher, imparting an important, if simple, lesson.
“You’re looking at this the wrong way,” he said. “As though splitting up was their failure state. It’s not. Not really. There’s nothing wrong with a fresh start, don’t you think?”
Ambriel transferred her gaze from one demon to the other and back again, wondering at this. She watched as Ikaros allowed his wings to spread, stretching ill-used muscles in their post-coital glow. Crowley’s tail curled and uncurled likewise, sliding gracefully through the air as the angel watched this being, with his divine wings and demonic horns and new name, framed in the moonlight.
“No,” said Ambriel, former Queen of Cups and newfound Fallen Angel. “Nothing wrong with a fresh start at all.”
THE END
Bonus 28 of 30
Love in Troubled Times
Description
Samantha Biscune can't go on living like this much longer. The loneliness and sadness continues to eat at her. She finds herself working as an assistant reporter even though she has her degrees in journalism. She wants to escape the rut that she finds herself in and what better way but to fall in love. Unfortunately, she feels that luck in both her professional and romantic lives are out of reach for her.
Her big break comes when her boss tells her to report on the breaking news of an alien race living among humans. She goes to the home of Colin Rafferty, a big-wig in real estate in the San Francisco Bay area and the purported leader of an ancient alien race. She's been waiting for the biggest story of her career. And this just might be it.
Colin Rafferty is the member of an ancient alien race. For hundreds of years, they have lived in harmony with human beings. Yet tensions have always simmered beneath the surface. And lately this land seems more and more inhospitable to his people.
He spent most of his days rolling around in bed, closing six and seven figure dollar deals by the bay. San Francisco. Yep, some of the most expensive real estate in the world. It's a playground to him. And he most enjoys playing with women.
But all that is about to change when he locks eyes with Samantha. Will he allow her into his world?
As for Samantha, will getting the story on Colin open a new career path her? Will she lose herself as her heart begins to melt under Colin’s erotic flame? Or Will she retreat from love, choosing solitude and security over love and the possible pain of loss?
Only Samantha and Colin know the answers to these questions as they struggle with outside forces wanting to do them harm and their own inner struggles of love and desire.
Chapter 1
Colin
He sprung from the bed and stretched his arms in the air. Nearly six hours of sleep. It was more than he had enjoyed in weeks. He felt refreshed.
After preparing his first cup of espresso, he sauntered out onto the d
eck. The crisp, morning air coming off the bay sparked his mind. For six years, he’d been waking up to this stunning view. And never, not once, has it ceased to amaze him. No matter how much wealth and luxury hung thick in the air, what most impressed him about the San Francisco was its natural beauty.
Damn morning wood! He reached down and squeezed the tingling rod. All work and no play keeps the soldier hard all day. He shook his head and laughed. He’d neglected his virile member choosing instead to direct that energy toward closing more seven-figure condo deals by the waterfront. He usually abstained from sexual play while working on big deals—and that’s all he was doing these days. With women around it was so damn easy to get distracted and forget about what’s important. Winning. Winning. Winning. There was nothing like it. It was the only reason to be alive. Whenever he competed against human beings, he always felt like he would come out on top. That's how Colin had been raised. In the old-style. The proud style. When life was more demanding. Before his race had begun to really gain a foothold in society. These days Colin and others like him were only supposed to think about how they could work together with humans, how they could completely integrate into human society.
After dressing, he headed downstairs. He nodded at the two pimply faced college kids behind the condo desk.
“Hi, Mr. Swartz. Have a great day Mr. Swartz.”
The building owner’s sons. They were his eyes and ears. What they saw was just as important as what they didn't see, or at least what they pretended not to see. They were often good sources of intel, for those occasions when a stranger was snooping around in the lobby asking the wrong questions. And they also knew how to clam up quick, if some woman from his past or present, started poking around.
Every few weeks, he made sure to slide them a white envelope or two. Keep the gears greased. And the oil right. No sense waiting for something bad to happen before you started shelling out cash. It was that little bit of extra help that a man in his sometimes delicate positions needs. There would never be enough allies. And the enemies would continue to spawn daily.
