Did that mean this wasn’t so wrong?
Expecting an outcry from the gates of Heaven, but unable to stop, he leaned forward and slid his tongue across the tops of her heaving breasts.
She still tasted like sweet manna.
Would he risk his soul for this woman? Fuck yeah. Why hadn’t he done so already?
Even as he moved to pull her closer, Verity resisted, a victim to her own nerves. Slowly, he embraced the shaking creature, ready to burn in the pits of Hell for another small taste of her. Something primal inside him snapped into place, and his long-denied need for her flared. His devotion flew away and even prayer wouldn’t save him. Right now, all he wanted to worship was her.
He touched her cheek and forced her to look at him. “We’re in a den of sin, my love. Sin with me.”
Chapter Three
Verity gawked at John as he pressed against her, and her mind reeled. She’d been so sure he’d turn her away as he always had, but when he’d licked at her breasts and she saw the demon cast to his eyes, it scared her. She hadn’t ever wanted to lead him astray … not really. She’d merely wanted another moment in his arms, knowing that was probably all she could ever have. However, the famished look in his luminescent eyes spoke of much more than a moment.
How on earth had the seducer become the seduced?
Would he hate her in the morning when he was called before the Almighty for his grave transgression? “Now I feel guilty,” she whispered.
He gritted his teeth. “No. I refuse to let you suffer how I did. I want you, my soul be damned.”
He traced the length of her bare arms, smoothing his thumbs along her skin, and she shivered. By the time he dug his hands into her hair, she was ready to beg. Damn! Didn’t he know having her scalp massaged made her giddy with pleasure? Of course, he did. He knew the effect of all his touches on her. He took her mouth in a deep kiss, his tongue playing her like an instrument. As he did, he spread his massive wings behind him as if sheltering them from God’s view.
Suddenly, she regretted the garb she’d chosen for this shindig. Maybe she should have left the stilettos, tight pants, and corset at home, because the sight of them seemed to be driving her angel into a frenzy of need. His hands shook as he caressed her. He bit at his bottom lip, and the veins in his neck throbbed.
John blinked once and uttered words that would make the seraphim blush. Her clothes fell away from her body, leaving her as naked and vulnerable in front of him as she’d once been against the parsonage wall. “What are you doing?”
His answer was to fall to his knees before her, the angel venerating the demon. He placed his hands on her thighs. His eyelids fluttered as he glanced at her. “Just a taste.”
“Dear God,” she moaned. Finally.
As John’s tongue made contact with the folds of her pussy, they took flight together and soared around the cavernous salon. They hovered about two feet from the ceiling, buoyed by powers of flight. His tongue on her skin made her feel like the curious girl she’d once been in Salem, rather than a jaded demon who’d seen and done everything. With each swipe, with every soft suck, memories of their love filled her, the love which had been ripped away from them and which she’d mourned for eons. Its loss had turned her into a cold, vile thing, one who spent its days half-heartedly leading men into sin, and then spent its nights dreaming of John.
How she longed to start over with him.
His large wings slid against her body as they floated. Their soft caress was echoed in the reverent glide of his tongue into her pussy. John opened his mouth, covered her mound, and sipped at her juices. His most intimate kiss was ruthless and demanding, something he’d only ever been during their lovemaking. His fever for her had eradicated the gentle angel and replaced it with one of the avenging variety.
As his licks and bites once again made her feel like a blushing virgin experiencing her first orgasm, she writhed and shouted. Luckily, her crazed moans were muffled by the sounds inside and outside the mansion. Hookups were happening all over the house; the evidence was heard within the walls of each room as they seemed to groan and sigh. And the atmosphere only made her hotter.
John tortured her clit by locking his lips around it and sucking for all he was worth, giving her the pleasure that had so long been denied. And as he saw to her needs, he reached down between his legs, palming his cock.
Just as she was ready to succumb to the delicious torment, he removed his mouth from her swollen pussy and caught her eye. She looked at him, almost afraid of the devilish cast in his gaze.
“My little devil,” he said, chuckling.
Then he blew on her pussy and caused a hurricane of sensation to roll over her body. Even as they continued to float around the room, he spread her legs wider so she remained captive to the overwhelming volleys of pleasure. He’d removed his mouth, but his magical breath made it feel as if a thousand mouths were on her, all of them seeking to make her come harder. One blow, and she felt tongues on her clit. Another soft breath and invisible teeth tortured her nipples. Yet another exhalation and fingers claimed all her intimate entries, filling and stretching her. Any orgasm he’d given her back in Salem, life-changing as they all were, was nothing compared to the monumental wave now crashing over her. She threw her head back, felt her womb seize and contract with pleasure/pain, and screamed in a language she didn’t understand.
John, the man, had been a generous, clever lover. Clearly, John, the angel, had learned a few new tricks.
Her climax seemed to go on forever. John continued blowing on her quivering mound, and the invisible mouths assaulted her until she had no choice but to close her eyes and roll over. Her angel caught her in his arms and flew her to the floor and then laid her on the velvet settee. She turned away from him and pressed her feverish brow against the smooth upholstery. Her body still jolted with each breath she took, and her screams of ecstasy still echoed in her ears.
John sat next to her, caressing her hip, and then turned her toward him. He was naked now as well, having disposed of his clothes in the blink of an eye. And even though his perfect, muscled form called to her, she resisted.
“No more,” she implored, feeling less like a demon than she ever had.
“You wanted this, Verity,” his deep voice rumbled. “And there will be more. Much more.”
As he positioned her on the settee, she groaned.
*
What am I doing? Why am I doing this?
It was because Verity Chisholm’s cries had haunted him for ages. He’d meandered through the centuries, happy to be doing God’s work, but always knowing something was missing. He’d prayed, led countless souls to the light, and had led lost souls out of harm’s way, but nothing had ever given him the satisfaction he’d felt holding the woman he loved.
Making her come, as they’d flown around this New Orleans salon, had filled his soul with happiness and reawakened desire. For centuries, he’d forced her memory to the back of his mind, knowing she was off-limits. She was one of Lucifer’s own; he was pledged to the Lord. There was no way this could have had a happy ending.
And yet he’d missed her so much. Had fretted and tortured himself about her, had wondered what sins the devil inspired her to commit in his name. Right now, she didn’t look like a sinner. She looked like the sweet woman he wanted to take to bed night after night.
Starting tonight.
He pulled her into a sitting position and grinned. She was boneless within his arms. He’d dazzled a demon. And Lucifer had once said angels were boring.
His cock hardened further, straining for her. He pulled her over his legs so she straddled him. She looked at his cock as if she were afraid of what it would do to her. He slid its bulk back and forth along her wet seam, teasing her, teasing him. Gripping her with one arm around the waist, he lifted her a few inches. With the other hand, he readied his cock head at her entrance.
“Verity,” he choked out in anticipation of fucking her. “Close your eyes.”
“Do it.”
She obeyed, and he impaled her on his cock, finally finding his way into the sweet bower that had been his only real home. She wiggled on his lap and took him deeper. He held her, unmoving. Saints alive, her tight channel felt better than ever.
Before he lost himself completely, he used his powers to whisk them away, away from the salon, away from New Orleans. Flying through the air on a stratum no human eye could discern, he carried her to the place that meant the most to them. The place where they’d fallen in love.
Once they were in Salem, he commanded, “Open your eyes.”
She did and gasped. Even though they were still joined and he ached to start thrusting, he held immobile as she looked around with tears in her eyes. They were behind the parsonage, back in the year 1692. Even though the building had been in ruins for years, it now stood as if untouched by time. It was nighttime, and all the good souls were in bed, leaving them quite alone, without even Samuel Williams’ prying eyes for company. As much as Verity’s perfume filled John’s senses, other scents made themselves known: embers from a dying fire, pine needles, and the delicious aroma of someone’s mutton stew. It took him back in time and made him happier than ever.
Verity wrapped her legs around his waist. She held on to him and kissed him hard. The succubus part of her showed through when she nibbled his bottom lip. After several loving, biting kisses, she gazed at him and smiled. “I was so happy in this place with you.”
He cupped her cheek. His heart pounded with love for her. “One last time here, my love.”
She nodded as fresh tears coursed down her cheeks.
After wrapping his wings around her so her skin would be protected from the rough wooden wall, John pinned her to it. He moved his hips against her, luxuriating in the tight grip of her pussy. She seemed to know just how to squeeze him. She’d always understood what he’d needed, more than he had. A smile. A gentle caress. She’d given him so many gestures of love during their short lives together, and he’d wasted the last few centuries denying them both an eternity of love.
On a grunt, he plunged deep inside her, moving so slowly he could have been turning back time. Verity cried out, her head falling forward onto his shoulder. He nipped at her neck and thrust again, faster this time, building up a momentum that was as painful as it was blissful. He fucked her, making silent promises with his possession that even he didn’t fully understand. All he realized was her body unraveling all around him and the delicious tightness of his balls as they slapped against her bottom. She squeezed his ass with her small hands, and he clenched, moving faster against her, sliding ever deeper.
Becoming one with her again.
As they reached climax together, John burrowed his face against her neck. When he finally looked up, his face was as wet with tears as hers. Stars shot across the sky, and he knew God’s angels were on guard, ready to take them down on a single word from on high. What they’d done was blasphemy, treason.
And for the first time in his long life, he didn’t give a fuck. This was his woman. Hell, she always had been.
Before any angelic warriors could take aim, John whisked her back to New Orleans. They landed in the salon, on the settee. He gazed at her fragile beauty, transfixed. Still so hungry, he touched her moist pussy, and she gasped. With a smile, he knelt before her, spread her legs and drank from her one more time. Verity wiggled under him, her hips moving with a sinful grace that would cause angels to barricade Heaven’s door. She grasped his head, burying her fingers in his hair, and held him fast. Summoning his powers to delight, he tongued her clit and absorbed her body’s soft sigh as she came in his mouth.
Complete wonder. His personal Paradise.
When he swallowed her last tremor, he got up and sat with her, holding her to his heart. After several minutes, they reached for their clothes without a word. Neither of them addressed what might happen next.
The Halloween party was in full swing. Loud music pumped from speakers, a musical segue to new debaucheries of which he wanted no part. He dressed and watched as Verity slid into her tight pants. When it came time to adjust her corset, he walked over and gently removed her hands, and fastened it himself. She stared at him. All hope had disappeared from her eyes. The twinkle was gone, replaced by shadows.
He laid his forehead against her. “I was so wrong to run from you. So wrong to let my guilt stand in the way.”
Her eyelashes fluttered over eyes that no longer held the allure of the temptress. She was all softness and vulnerability now. “John, what I said at the gallows … it was my fear talking. I don’t want to be a succubus. I want to be with you. I love you.”
“I know. I always knew. And I love you, too.” He kissed her as a new sense of determination filled him. He could fix this. He had to fix this. “Maybe we can still be together. Maybe you could join me in the ranks of angels.”
She shook her head. “What if Lucifer won’t let me go? What if God won’t take me?”
God couldn’t be so cruel. They’d spent centuries apart for their innocent follies. They’d made their mistakes and had paid for them. Surely heaven wouldn’t refuse a soul who was truly penitent. They’d already suffered through one judgment day. Surely God wouldn’t make them endure another.
He tipped up her chin and absorbed every beautiful detail on her face. “Whatever happens, we’ll do it together this time. I won’t let you go.”
Verity let out a deep breath and swallowed. He could tell she was willing to take on the powers of heaven. This time, he’d be with her every step of the way. He wouldn’t let anyone take her. He’d fight and bargain and beg for his woman. Reaching for her hand, he offered her a grin of encouragement.
With one more kiss for luck, they left the mansion and swiftly took flight.
About the Author
Rosanna Leo has her degree in history and literature, as well as in classical singing. She currently resides in Toronto, Canada. Her favorite things are her family, dusty libraries, and Nutella. Rosanna loves it when the geeky, awkward girl gets the hot guy, and has made it her mission to see this happen in her books as much as possible. She is a multi-published author with Liquid Silver Books. Her books include For the Love of a God, The Selkie and Predator’s Kiss.
You can find all her books at www.lsbooks.com.
Rosanna’s blog is www.rosannaleo.blogspot.com
Other Titles Available by Rosanna Leo
Now Available:
For the Love of a God
Up In Flames
Sweet Hell
Sunburn
Orkney Selkies series
The Selkie
Selkie’s Revenge
Gemini Island Shifters series
Predator’s Kiss
Predator’s Serenade
Empress
Cherie Nicholls
Dedication
For all the ladies who like to be in charge, this one’s for you.
Lucy looked down at the invitation in her hands.
There was a man sitting in the chair on the other side of the room, waiting for her.
So far, this night hadn’t been like anything she’d expected. First, she’d managed to get herself fired from a job she loved. Second, she sort of crashed a Halloween party. But hey, she’d been invited when she’d worked in the Michaelson’s office; the party’s hosts didn’t need to know that technically she wasn’t a Michaelson employee anymore.
Finally, she’d made the mistake of turning over the invitation and looking at the back. Printed on the reverse side was the image of half of a tarot card. The Empress card. Lucy didn’t know much about the mystical element, but doubted the picture had much to do with reading peoples futures at this party.
There were also some instructions printed on the card. Basically, someone would have the other half of her card; her mission was to find that person. Lucy had almost rolled her eyes, but something about the image pulled at her and here she was … a party-crasher
.
Upon arrival, she’d headed to the bar and ordered a soda. Lucy had barely taken a sip before a man in a scarlet suit approached her.
“Madam, I believe the person holding the other half of your card is in a room upstairs.”
“How do you know what card I have?”
The man had merely smiled and walked away. She’d had no intention of heading to a room away from the main crowd; she was not stupid.
But the more she’d thought about it, the more she’d felt the need to have a look. A quick peek she’d promised herself as she walked up the ornate staircase.
Lucy had worried she’d not know what room, but she shouldn’t have. One room stood out―a gold shining plaque on the door clearly stating it was the Empress Suite.
She’d taken a deep breath and opened the door.
That was where she found herself now, looking at a man in an expensively cut suit sitting in a chair, watching her.
A suit that had to have been tailored on Saville Row, leather shoes made in Milan, and a haircut that had to have cost one hundred dollars. She’d worked as an assistant to one of the brothers who ran the Michaelson company, and her boss had always made sure he had the best of everything. Lucy had learned to spot the cut, make, and model of everything he liked.
The man in the chair brushed a hand over his head, letting his fingers run through the strands. Lucy’s own hand tingled with the need to follow the same path.
Dark chocolate-brown eyes watched her every move. His gaze scanned down her body, taking in the tight red dress she’d poured herself into and the killer four-inch heels she wore.
Lucy pushed her long brown hair over her shoulder and let him look. She had curves and was proud of them. If he thought he’d fluster her, then this guy really didn’t know who he was messing with.
“Like?” she asked,
“Red is definitely your color.” His voice was deep, vibrating across the room and hitting her square in the pussy.
“Thank you.”
Love in the Cards Page 11
