Her Wicked Angel (Her Angel Romance Series Book 6) (24 page)

Her tongue flicked over the crown of his cock and then she took him into her hot mouth and all of his thoughts derailed. He groaned and grunted, hazy from head to toe as she licked and sucked him, lavishing his length with attention. She cupped his sac again, toying with it as she had near the pool, each little tug sending hot shivers blasting outwards and heightening his pleasure.

Asmodeus clutched her shoulders and tried to fight his desire to rock himself into her mouth, taking it. He stared at her bottom, imagining himself behind her, thrusting into her body like this. He grunted again and pumped into her mouth. She moaned, the noise vibrating along the length of him, adding to his pleasure and making him moan along with her.

She sucked more greedily, pulling hard on him once more and then softening her approach the next. Driving him mad. Was she getting him back for what he had done to her? It felt as though she wanted to torture him for hours, bringing him to the edge and then refusing to push him over it.

His knees trembled and he held her tighter, trying to keep himself upright. She squeezed and tugged his balls, wrenching another groan from him, and stroked his length in time with her sucking. Was this how she would feel when he was inside her?

The thought tipped him right over the edge and he grunted as pleasure shot through him and he spilled himself into her mouth, shallowly thrusting through the ring of her fingers. She lapped at him as he had her, licking up his spending and sending another shivery hot wave crashing through him.

Asmodeus’s hands slipped to the table. He grasped the edge, closed his eyes, and breathed slowly, trying to bring himself gently down.

Liora released him and he glanced down at his softening cock. He had wanted to be inside her this time. She kneeled and ran her hands up his stomach to his chest, rising before him. His heart pounded against his ribs, the rhythm still too fast, making him feel dizzy and hazy. She looped her arms around his neck and he moaned as she kissed him.

He twitched. Stirred.

Grinned.

The more she kissed him and stroked his wings, the harder he became, until he prodded her belly and she gasped and looked down.

“Angel stamin—”

Asmodeus caught her behind her knees and flipped her onto her back, knocking the words from her lips. He growled and spread her thighs, staring down at her feminine core and then slowly raking his eyes up over her beautiful body to meet hers.

Liora stretched her arms above her head and curled her fingers around the edge of the table again. Her eyes darkened with arousal.

He grabbed her hips and yanked her closer, tearing another gasp from her and making her eyes go even darker, and narrowed his gaze on her glistening curls.

He took hold of his rigid length and bent at the knee, bringing him down to level with her. His hand shook. He crushed the nerves that made it tremble and ran the head of his flesh through her folds. She moaned and writhed, and he didn’t want to wait any longer.

Asmodeus edged further down and lost his breath when the crown nudged inside her. Hot. She felt hotter around it than she had around his fingers. He eased forwards and she arched, moaning and straining, incredibly tight around him.

He froze. Too tight.

“Don’t stop… go slow… okay?”

He groaned. He could do slow. It would kill him, but he would do it for her, so he didn’t hurt her. He wanted this to feel good, the best she’d had. Better than the male who had dared touch what was his.

Asmodeus slowly entered her, inch by excruciating inch, swallowing hard to resist ramming forwards and seating himself to his hilt. He planted his hands on the table and then grasped her hips and raised them as he straightened, coming to stand between her thighs. She moaned now, this time one of pleasure not pain.

“Keep going,” she whispered, as breathless as he felt.

He eased forwards, throbbing from how tightly she gloved him and how hot she was, scorching him with her wet heat. The end of his length hit something.

“Oh, bingo,” she muttered. “Mother Earth, you’re big.”

“A bad thing?” He hoped not. He intended to do this often with her. As often as she allowed and then more.

She shook her head. “Remember. Slow and steady wins the race.”

This was a race?

He stared at her. She cracked her eyes open and smiled. “It’s a metaphor. It means you don’t need to rush.”

“Easier said than done… every fibre of me wants to claim you and I want to claim you hard.”

She moaned and flexed around him, and he choked. She could go tighter?

“I love it when you talk dirty.”

He wasn’t sure whether she was teasing. He grasped her hips and stared down at the point where their bodies joined, fascinated as he slowly withdrew and then thrust back in, watching his cock disappear into her body. She felt good. Incredibly good. Insanely good.

He struggled to set a slow and steady pace as she had instructed. He held her firm when she kept trying to wriggle and gently increased his speed as she began to loosen around him. Asmodeus watched their bodies joining, his hard length pumping into her, filling her completely and ripping a moan from her each time it did so. He hadn’t imagined that sex itself would be so arousing.

If she watched them coupling, would it thrill her too?

He wanted to know.

“Would you feel more pleasure if you could see my cock entering you?”

She choked and stared at him with wide eyes. “You’re embracing the dirty talk, aren’t you?”

He nodded and slowed his pace, decided he liked how she seemed to lose her ability to concentrate when he did that, thrusting in long leisurely strokes, and watched her. “I was curious.”

She looked thoughtful and then moaned.

“The thought arouses you?” he said and she blushed, then gave a tiny nod. He looked down again, shifting his hips further back this time, until the head of his cock almost left her, and then easing back in. “It is rather wicked.”

“I want to see.” She crooked her finger.

She wanted him to mount the table while inside her? That was a rather impossible feat and he didn’t feel like withdrawing from her completely.

She made the decision for him by pulling up with her arms, tugging herself free of him. He growled and mounted the table, and then groaned when she pushed him onto his back and mounted him.

Asmodeus lay beneath her, his wings stretched across the black table top, staring up at her. She grasped his cock, positioned it and then twirled her hair up and pinned it using one of his pencils. He held her hips and she pressed her hands against his chest as she looked between them. He watched their joining with her, moaning in time with her as she inched down onto him.

“Very wicked,” she whispered breathlessly and began moving on him, faster than he had dared, long strokes that had him grasping the edge of the table as she had, at her mercy as she rode him.

The sight of her rocking on him was far more wicked than just the sight of him thrusting into her and then withdrawing. He lay beneath her and lost himself in it, amazed that she was doing this with him, wanted him like this. She grasped his hips and tipped her head back, arching her breasts towards him and moaning each time she thrust down onto him, taking him deep into her body. She moved faster, wilder, rotating her hips and moaning louder.

His little hellion.

“Asmodeus,” she groaned and he countered her thrusts, plunging his cock hard into her every time she bore down on him. It still wasn’t enough for him. He needed more. She needed it too.

He growled, flipped her onto her back and grasped her shoulders, thrusting deep. She groaned and grabbed his wings, tugging them and pulling him down to her, undulating her hips beneath him and flexing around him, clenching his length. It seemed the time for slow and steady had passed and she was too far gone to care about any pain. It had all become pleasure.

Asmodeus curled his hips, grunting each time their bodies met and she clawed at his shoulder or clutched one of his wings and groaned. He gritted his teeth and pumped her harder, using the full length of his rigid shaft to feel all of her, and make her feel all of him. She belonged to him. He was claiming her and when he was done, she would be his forever. He would never let her go.

She moaned hotly into his ear, craned her neck and bit the lobe, ripping a growl from him. “Harder.”

Holy hell. He could do that.

He held her tighter and thrust harder, shorter strokes that had her rocking in his arms. His balls drew up and his shaft swelled, aching inside her. She tightened around him, choking him in her heat, drawing him closer to the edge. Not yet. She would have her bliss first.

“More,” she whispered and he complied, holding back and giving her what she desired, letting her feel every inch of him as he took her, giving her pleasure. She dug her nails into his bare backside, clawing at him, forcing him to move faster. He grunted into her neck, bit down without thinking, and she screamed at the top of her lungs.

She went so tight he grunted in pain this time, and then she convulsed into him and her whole body shook as she quivered around him, her sheath milking his cock.

Asmodeus growled into her neck and kept thrusting, drawing out her climax as he sought his own. She clung to him, still pushing his backside, making him take her hard and fast. He tasted blood on his tongue, tasted heat and life, and power.

The moment he swallowed to clear the taste away, his blood lit up like lightning and he jerked deep into her body and came hard, his climax wringing his seed from him over and over again until he trembled and collapsed on top of her, breathing hard against her throat. His cock continued to pulse inside her.

“Mother Earth…” she muttered into his ear and he grunted in response, unable to form words to express how that had made him feel but agreeing with her and the awed tone she had used. She poked his arm, nudging him. “Asmodeus?”

He grunted again.

“You okay?”

Shrugged.

He felt dizzy. Drained. High.

He tried to look at her and closed his eyes again. “Spinning.”

Her hand knocked against his face and then touched her neck. “You bit me.”

It took him a moment to remember that. He nodded. “Did not mean to.”

“Blood. Sex. Magic.” Her tone made those three words sound significant and he managed to push himself up and drowsily looked down at her. His length still throbbed, sending pleasant aftershocks tripping through him.

“Huh?” he mumbled and her eyes darted between his. She cupped his cheeks and pulled his lower eyelids down with her thumbs, inspecting his eyes, and then checked his teeth and he was beginning to feel mildly concerned. Only mildly though. Panic had no chance against the hot hazy bliss consuming him. “Huh?”

“Witches are forbidden to exchange blood during sex.”

He was glad she still sounded breathless and her voice hitched at intervals during her explanation, her pupils swallowing her irises in time with each one. Aftershocks. She had them too. He could feel her quiver when they happened.

“Why?” he said.

“Normally it has a bad side effect… like… death.”

“Death by sex?” Not a good side effect at all. “We did not exchange blood. I had a tiny taste of yours. It tastes like lightning.”

“Really?” Curiosity replaced any shred of fear in her eyes. “I guess we didn’t exchange blood… and you’re not a witch… and you’re immortal and rather powerful… but… you had me worried there.”

“Felt good though.” He tried to stifle his smile, knowing she would detect the touch of pride in it.

She blushed and said in a small shy voice, “It did.”

Asmodeus grinned. “Want to do it again?”

Her blush deepened.

He took that as a yes.

He dipped his head to kiss her.

The entire castle shook.

L
iora was one hundred percent certain that shaking had not been a pleasure aftershock like the ones rocking her body.

Asmodeus growled, pulled out of her and was clothed in an instant in his pieces of gold-edged black armour. Liora hastily hopped down from the table, grabbed her clothes and pulled them on. She had just managed to get her bra fastened when Romulus and Remus bounded into the room, growling and snarling, their crimson eyes bright with death and fangs dripping blood.

Asmodeus spoke in his dark tongue to them and then his golden blades appeared in his hands and he rose to stand on the table, his black wings furled against his back and his eyes burning red.

“What’s happening?” She looked up at him.

His crimson gaze shifted to her and his black eyebrows met in a scowl.

“We have company. I shall turn them away.” He walked the length of the table and dropped down from the end, landing silently on the stone floor.

“Wait.” Liora raced after him. “I’m not letting you go out there alone.”

He strode down the steps to the next level. “Go to the bedroom, Liora, and remain there with Remus.”

“No!” She damned well wasn’t going to let him order her around like that and treat her like a damsel in distress, a woman unable to protect herself and fight. “You don’t have to do this alone. I won’t let you do this alone. We’re a team. We do this together.”

He paused and looked back at her, the dark expression on his face warning her that he wasn’t in the mood to argue. She wasn’t in the mood either and there was no argument. She was going with him whether he liked it or not.

“Return to the bedroom,” he snapped and began walking again. The castle rocked and dust rained down from the black ceiling of the corridor.

Remus whined behind her as she followed Asmodeus. He might not want to anger his master by disobeying his orders, but she wasn’t going to let him boss her around.

“I’ve fought countless demons, Asmodeus.”

He stopped again and turned to face her. “When you were twelve and your parents died? What did you know about fighting at that age?”

She shook her head and swallowed her nerves. “No… after that. I’ve participated in countless demon hunts and I have killed hundreds of them.”

He frowned at her and her stomach squirmed. He must have caught the flicker of guilt in her eyes because he sighed, stepped towards her and sheathed one of his swords so he could stroke her cheek.