Chapter 18

CHAPTER18

“What?”

His gaze flicked to the floor between his legs, then back up to me, and he raised a brow in challenge.

I really shouldn’t get a pleasant full-body tingle at that nonchalantly dominant look and the way he just expected me to fall to his feet and—okay, yes, fine, it was fucking hot and I was all for it.

Biting my lip, I slid off the couch and knelt between his legs. The firm material of my jeans pressed against my already sensitive flesh, adding to the heat building in my core. I met his gaze, and the hunger in his eyes mirrored the need unfurling inside me.

Everything else fell away, the world reduced to the two of us and that brimming connection between our minds, hearts, and bodies.

I might at first have demurred to his idea of distracting me from whatever loomed unspoken, my need to find out what was happening clawing at me from the inside, but in the end…I’d never say no to sex with him. I’d have to be comatose to turn that down. It was in the moments when we played, the energy between us shifting, pushing and pulling, that I felt most alive, that I lived and breathed this connection that went so far beyond anything I’d ever had with anyone else.

These were also the moments when all the things pressing down on me, the haunting knowledge of my shortcomings and all the ways I’d failed him faded into the background. For a few, blissful instants, there was nothing between us but heat and desire, primal need and a deep, abiding bond that fed starved parts of my soul.

So of course I’d cave when presented with the chance to quiet the incessant chatter of my mind and focus on the one thing that was and always had been immediately compelling and unburdened by anything else in our lives—how perfectly we fit together in the most intimate of ways.

Whatever else we might struggle with, it never intruded into the pleasure we shared.

I looked up at him now from much the same position I’d been in during that meeting with Zaquiel, that pivotal moment that had changed so much between us. Back then, I’d been so overwhelmed with lust, my senses hijacked by the erotic impressions of the carnal party going on around us, I’d had my hands on the buttons of Azazel’s pants, ready to blow him right then and there, audience be damned.

He’d stopped me, much to my surprise, but I’d come to understand since then that his unwillingness to share even extended to public displays of intimacy. Where everyone else in Hell seemed to frequently engage in exhibitionist sex, Azazel kept this side of him—of us—private. It made me feel treasured in a strange but luscious way.

The lightning in his eyes as he regarded me now made me wonder if he was as aware as me of how our current position mirrored that moment when everything changed. His gaze stroked over my face with such sensual intent, I almost felt it as a physical touch. My nipples hardened, the material of my bra and tank top suddenly much too heavy, too abrasive.

“Not a day goes by,” he said on a murmur, “that I don’t think about you kneeling between my legs, with that look on your face, that fire in your eyes. I’ve been meaning to relive that moment ever since.”

I licked my lips and shifted my weight, new arousal pulsing between my thighs. It wasn’t like I hadn’t given him plenty of oral in the past, but never in this exact position, never in this conscious reenactment of the first time I’d felt so inexorably drawn to him that it had nearly drowned me in sensation.

His gaze dropped to my mouth, and the power emanating from him sharpened. I drew in a breath, lifting my hands to run them over his thighs toward his groin, where the bulge in his pants spoke to his own state of arousal.

My mouth watered.

He gripped my chin, his thumb stroking over my lower lip. “Open my pants, love.”

With pleasure.

Swiftly, I unfastened his pants, freeing his erection. More wetness drenched my panties at the sight of his cock. Thick and long, veins running up the underside, a bead of precum pooling at the slit on top, it made me squirm on my knees. I was so intimately familiar with how he felt inside me, my inner muscles already clenched in anticipation.

“Now wrap those lips of yours around my cock,” he said, the timbre of his voice making me shiver, “and show me how much you want me.”

Holding his gaze, I grasped the base of his dick, leaned in, and took him into my mouth. His energy pulsed violently as soon as my lips touched his skin, and my core throbbed with an answering beat of desire. Seeing—feeling—his reaction to me never failed to arouse me.

I swirled my tongue around the crown, sucked briefly, and then went down, taking him deep. I’d worked on my gag reflex over the past few months—a girl had to put in some effort to accommodate that kind of length—so when he hit the back of my throat now, my eyes only watered a little.

The guttural sound he made as I relaxed my throat and took him even deeper was the sweetest reward, making me clench my thighs against the building pressure inside me.

Up and down I bobbed, sucking on the way up, taking him deep on the way down. His hand fisted in my hair, the sting only adding to the pulse of lust between my legs.

I thought I couldn’t be more turned on when he cupped my face with his other hand, slid his thumb to my lower lip to feel himself sliding in and out of my mouth and said on a groan, “Good girl.”

That made me melt into a puddle of arousal, my own need now so acute, so pounding, I couldn’t take it anymore.

Slipping one hand between my thighs, I pressed my fingers against the throbbing center of my lust.

“Uh-uh.” Grabbing me underneath my jaw, he pushed my head back, plopping himself free of my mouth at the same time he used his power to yank my hand off my crotch. “You don’t get to touch yourself. When you come, it will be with my cock in your pussy, understood?”

I whimpered. “Then fuck me already.”

His expression was all sorts of devilish. “Not yet.”

Ignoring my sound of utter frustration, he rose from the couch. I was already halfway to my feet as well when he laid a hand on my shoulder and pushed me back down to my knees. His power whispered over my wrists, and the next second my arms were pulled behind my back, held there by invisible bonds.

“Because I don’t trust you to keep your hands off yourself,” he muttered, a glint in his eye.

I looked daggers at him for that while my core still throbbed something fierce, primed and ready and so close to climax.

He wrapped one hand around my head, fingers tangling in my hair. “Now open that pretty mouth.”

My eyes widened just the slightest bit, but I obeyed and parted my lips. His gaze holding mine spellbound, he slid his cock inside my mouth, and I made a little sound of pleasure at tasting him again.

He watched with intense focus as I swallowed him whole, his dark lashes half hiding his stormy eyes, and the way his features tightened and pinched with lust when he thrust into my mouth made new wetness pool at my core.

“That’s it,” he murmured, deepening his shallow strokes until he tapped the back of my throat once more. “You’re gonna take it all, aren’t you?”

I hummed in assent, all my concentration on keeping my muscles relaxed so I wouldn’t gag. This was very different from the previous position—with my arms held immobile behind my back and his hand on my nape keeping my head in place, I had no control over speed, angle, or depth. He was fully in charge, fucking my mouth as he pleased, and all I could do was take it.

It felt wonderfully wicked and delightfully dirty.

His thrusts became faster, rougher, though still only a fraction of his normal speed and force. Dark energy curled around me, his power making the air shimmer as he kept his strength on the tightest of leashes. His cock filled my mouth, hot and hard and deliciously demanding, and I watched in rapt fascination how he watched me, his face stripped of anything civilized, his expression one of pure primal need.

“I’m going to come down your throat,” he said, his voice a touch rough, “and you’re going to swallow every last drop.”

I made a happy little sound around the thick length of him, sucking just a tad more—and he lost it. With three quick, powerful thrusts, he came, his hot cum splashing against the back of my throat. I worked hard to swallow it quickly without choking on it—not that easy when I couldn’t angle my head or use my hands to control the distance—but I managed, my eyes still riveted on him, on his expression of sheer pleasure.

Goddamn, I might be able to come just from that look on his face.

When he pulled out, I chased the head of his cock and sucked off the last bit of his seed as if addicted to his taste. Which was likely true.

“Fucking Hell, Zoe,” he said with a surprised chuckle.

I grinned up at him, feeling tingly and warm at the way his features had softened with his release and the satisfied smile he gave me.

He rubbed his thumb over my lips for a heartbeat, his eyes mapping my face, then he tugged upward at my hair with his other hand still at my nape. “Up,” he murmured as he released his hold on my wrists.

I got to my feet, the oversensitized, neglected spot between my legs throbbing with the movement. My entire body was strung tight and buzzing like a live wire, aching with unfulfilled need. With my arms now free, I immediately touched him, seeking the heat of his skin. He’d changed out of his fighting leathers and into a more casual outfit earlier, and I slid my hands under his shirt, needing to feel him.

“Off,” I muttered.

His shirt went up in flames and then fell away as ash. I smiled at the impatience evident in that move, but the next second, he had his mouth on mine, claiming me with a rough, demanding kiss. My toes curled at how he stroked his tongue inside me, branding me, making me moan and melt against him.

“If you don’t fuck me in the next five seconds,” I panted as soon as he granted me air to speak, “I will spontaneously combust.”

His hand slid to the front of my throat, holding me there with just enough pressure to make my knees weak and my belly flutter with excitement. With a roguish grin, he leaned in again and slowly, torturously nipped at my lower lip, then sucked on it.

I closed my eyes and let out a breathy moan. He was killing me.

Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, he turned me around and steered me toward one of the divans.

“Bend over,” he said as his hand pressed against my upper back.

Heart thumping a mile a minute, I leaned over the padded backrest of the divan, its height just sitting a bit higher than my hips.

“More.” He pushed me further down until I set my hands on the divan’s seat cushion to steady myself, my toes barely touching the floor on the other side.

I was now pretty much dangling over the backrest.

He stroked his hand up and down my spine and made a pleased sound before he reached between the backrest and my hips and opened my jeans with dexterous fingers. Feeling his touch so close to where I needed it tore a moan from my throat. I’d been in unfulfilled-sexual-need-Hell for what felt like an eternity, that ache between my legs near unbearable.

Grabbing the waistband of my jeans and panties with both hands, he shoved them down roughly, baring me completely to his gaze. Cool air kissed my most sensitive skin, slick with my arousal.

“Beautiful.” His velveteen praise stroked me a moment before his fingers did.

With a touch that was excruciatingly light, he caressed my entrance, gliding through my juices, his attention not nearly close enough to my clit for my liking. My inner muscles clenched around nothing. Heaven help me, I was dying to be filled.

“Azazel, please.”

He hummed, palming my ass. “You’ve been good.”

“Yessss.”

“Did everything I asked.” He squeezed my butt.

I nodded vigorously and bounced a little on my toes. “Yes, yes.”

“Then it’s time for your reward.”

My enthusiastic agreement drowned in a drawn-out moan when he thrust inside me with one powerful push. Overwhelming sensation shot out from where his cock speared me in the best of ways. My nerves all fired up, stars exploding behind my eyes.

The move shoved my mound against the backrest, my clit rubbing over the padded fabric—and I came apart at the seams.

I cried out, splintering under a climax that seemed intent on undoing my very essence. Pleasure so acute it stole my breath rolled through me, unmaking every thread that held my being together.

“Fuck,” I moaned, still in the throes of my sexual high as Azazel withdrew and thrust back in, setting off the fireworks again.

I loved it when he gave me half a dozen orgasms before he took me, but there was something to be said for the explosion that followed delayed gratification. I never climaxed as hard as I did when he tortured me with withholding my pleasure for what seemed like hours.

He pumped into me, harder, faster, every thrust shoving my mons onto the backrest again, and the combination of his cock pounding into me and the friction on my clit sent me over yet again.

And again.

I was hoarse from screaming by the time he emptied himself inside me with a few last, near bruising thrusts. His deep groan made me clench once more around him, my clit feeling delightfully battered.

Good grief, I’d probably be too sore to walk.

He withdrew, making me gasp at the loss of his cock, and then he pulled my jeans and panties all the way off and cleaned me quickly with a summoned cloth.

Attuned to my needs as always, he swooped me right up into his arms then, saving me from testing if my legs still worked. Resting my head against his shoulder, I lazily petted his bare chest, the trimmed dark hair there tickling my fingers.

I was still high on endorphins when he laid me on our bed and divested me of my top and bra. Humming contentedly, I curled right into him the second he joined me on the mattress. He’d taken off his pants as well, and we lay there, skin on skin, our legs intertwined, my head on his chest where his steady heartbeat soothed me down to my soul.

That peace didn’t last long.

“I almost forgot this,” he spoke into the lightning-kissed darkness and moved his arm.

I drew back and blinked at the tiny box he held in his palm. With a flick of his fingers, he flipped it open. Nestled into the black satin inside was the most stunning ring I’d ever seen. Gleaming silver in the light of the flashes coming from outside the window, the band split into filigree tendrils coiling around a sparkling jewel in the middle. The gem seemed black at first glance but for a glimmer of light in its depths that turned the obsidian color into radiant iridescence.

“Last year,” he said with a half-smile, “you demanded a ring. I’m afraid I’ve been remiss, but better late than never.”

I raised a trembling hand to my mouth, but he gently took hold of it and slid the ring on my finger.

“Happy one year, and here’s to many more.” He turned my hand and placed a kiss on my palm.

My chest burned, my lungs seizing. I drew in a rattling breath. “I’m so sorry,” I blurted out.

His brows pinched together. “For what?”

I shook my head, my throat thick. Opening my mouth, I closed it again, trying several times to speak. When I managed, it was barely a whisper. “I don’t have anything for you.”

He tilted his head, his look questioning.

“For our anniversary.” My lower lip quivered. Embarrassment seared me from the inside out. “I don’t have a gift for you.”

He stared at me intently for a moment.

My pulse pounded so loud, I almost didn’t hear him when he asked, “So?”

I scoffed. “So?” Flailing, I sat up. “You’ve got me these amazing things, and I’m over here with nothing!”

He shook his head. “It’s not a competition.”

“No, but…” I rubbed a hand over my face. “You’re so thoughtful and attentive and just all around perfect—”

“Me?” He raised both brows. “Perfect?”

“Yes. You think of all the things. You remember everything. You’re loving and considerate. You always know just what to say and you do all the right things—”

His hand covering my mouth cut my speech short. “Careful,” he whispered harshly, making a show of looking over his shoulder. “If anyone hears you, my reputation will be ruined.”

“That!” I said emphatically after removing his hand from my mouth. “That’s exactly what I mean. You’re funny on top of everything else, and you deserve better than—” I broke off and bit my lip.

His gaze homed in on me with laser-like focus. “Nu-uh. Go on. What were you saying?”

I wilted under his intense stare. “You deserve better than a wife who forgets your anniversary,” I mumbled, lowering my eyes, cringing at the sting of shame accompanying my words.

I didn’t know what I’d expected, but it wasn’t to hear him laugh. Glancing up at him through a film of tears over my eyes, I noticed the genuine amusement lighting his face.

“That’s not funny,” I said, my voice cracking.

Sobering, he leveled a serious look at me. “All right. Then let me make this clear. I don’t give a fuck if you remember anniversaries or birthdays.”

I flinched.

“I am thousands of years old,” he went on, his voice a calm rumble in the dark. “I’ve seen centuries go by in the blink of an eye. For an immortal, celebrating annual dates doesn’t have the same importance as it does for humans. I remember and commemorate them for you, because I know you’ll appreciate it, and I love the unadulterated joy on your face when I give you a gift. But I don’t require the same in return. I won’t measure your love by whether or not you have a present for me on a certain date. You think I deserve better than you?”

I sniffed, the tears spilling over.

He wiped them from my cheeks. “You light up my life. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a tragically long time. When I’m around you, I’m the best version of me I’ve ever been. You make me better.” He cupped my face with both hands, his fingers gently digging in. “You don’t need to give me gifts, not when your presence in my life is the greatest one I’ve ever received.”

“Stop,” I sobbed.

“No. You’ll hear me out, because I know where this comes from.” He pointed a finger at my head and made a little circle. “I know all your previous relationships were short—”

“And whose fault was that?” I croaked.

“Shush.” He gave me a look. “You’ve never been serious with anyone. Always kept them at arm’s length. But this is here is different. With me, you’re all in, and it scares you. Because deep down, a part of you thinks you’re not lovable. That you’re not enough.”

All blood rushed from my head. He was cracking me open one word at a time.

“And part of that is due to what happened with your father. The way he abandoned you left scars, the kind that are subtle but sink deep. The kind that makes you doubt, in your heart of hearts, that anyone could ever truly love you for who you are. You never let anyone close enough to make it all rise to the surface. Until me.” His eyes glowed in the gloom of our shared bedroom. “But now that you’re faced with the kind of deep connection that challenges the shit your father’s neglect ingrained in you, you can’t believe it’s real. So you keep looking for things that confirm what you think is true—that you’re not lovable enough for someone to choose you before anything else.”

I stared at him, dumbstruck, while distant thunder rumbled outside the window. “How?” I rasped. “How do you know all that?”

“I’m a demon,” was his simple answer. “We excel at seeing into people’s souls and picking apart minds to find hidden trauma.” A fluid shrug. “All the better to torture the damned.”

I swallowed hard. “I never realized…” Shaking my head, I continued in a small voice, “Never realized that about me.”

“It’s not a conscious thing,” he said gently. “That’s why I told you. Because I need you to understand, to believe”—he took my hand and laid it over his heart—“that this is real. That I am the one who will always choose you. That I am fucking lucky to have you.”

Fresh tears burned in my eyes. “Even when I’m an anxious mess who never does anything special for you?”

The way he stared at me sent a chill down my spine.

“I would like to shake you right now,” he said with quiet menace.

I gulped.

He grasped me under my jaw, his large hand a hot brand on my skin. “You,” he growled, “never did anything special for me?” He narrowed his eyes, the irises swirling with inhuman silver. “You crawled for me, in front of Lucifer’s entire court.” His grip tightened. “You stayed when you had every reason to turn away. You chose me, over the comfort and familiarity of your old life. You gave up everything to be with me, even knowing what life in Hell is like. You think I care about anything else?”

I blinked rapidly, my throat tight and my chest aching.

Wiping the fresh tears from my face again, he laid his forehead against mine. “When you see me showering you with gifts and feel like you are lacking for not doing the same, you’ve got it all backwards. It’s the fucking least I can do for you for what you did for me. I’d lay the world at your feet if I could. It’s no less than you deserve.”

The pressure inside me broke free on a sob. I buried my head in his chest, my shoulders shaking as I wept. His arms closed around me, enveloping me in warmth and reassurance and the kind of love I never could have dreamed of.

He held me like this for the longest time, while my tears slowly dried and my breathing calmed.

Kissing the top of my head, he eventually murmured, “Sleep now.”

And I tried. I really did.

With the mental and physical exhaustion from the events of the evening, I should have slipped right into a comatose sleep. Alas, somehow the rawness of my emotional state allowed the nagging worry I’d all but banished to return with force, making my heart pound and my skin itch.

That moment when Cadriel had spoken to him played over and over in my head, the memory of the anguish in his eyes as he’d glanced at me… The reassurance of his declaration from earlier non-withstanding, whatever put that look on his face had to be devastating.

“Zoe.” His sleep-drenched voice pulled me from my anxious thoughts. “Sleep.”

It wasn’t a mental command, though, just a grumpy admonishment, so I disentangled myself from him and sat up.

“I can’t,” I said, chewing on my lip. “I need to know what Cadriel said.”

He rolled onto his back with a deep sigh.

“Please tell me,” I whispered.

For a moment, he lay there unmoving, his eyes closed, and I almost thought he’d gone back to sleep, but then he rolled out of bed in one swift movement, coming to his feet with inhuman grace. Grabbing his pants, he pulled them on, then he summoned a pile of clothes and held them out to me.

“You’ll want to be dressed for this.”