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ChapterForty-Five
CALEB
Blood humming with anticipation, I stuck to the shadows as I forced myself to stride calmly down the stairs toInquity’slower level. Lilith was waiting for me, her usual smirk in place as I reached her.
“Father.”
“Demon spawn.”
“Technically, I’m pure demon.”
I let out a light chuckle at the oxymoron, plucked a few notes from the pocket of my trousers, and handed the money over to her. “Thank you for letting me know.”
“Always a pleasure doing business with you. If you ever want to take me up on my other proposition, the offer is open.”
I cast her a disdainful glance. “Never going to happen.”
“A girl can dream.” She raked her gaze over my form. “A hot priest at my disposal, ready for me to defile...” A little shiver raced through her, and she sucked in a sharp breath. “Succubi have fantasies too.”
“None I’m interested in.”
“No,” she murmured thoughtfully. “You prefer to watch.”
My jaw clenched, and any humor I’d felt at our interaction fled. I dismissed her with a wave and strolled down the hallway toward the room that had become my own private den of sin. I’d have to spend some quality time with my flogger after this, begging forgiveness for the weakness I couldn’t conquer. But I’d resigned myself to the fact that no matter what vows I’d made, I was also a man, and God made us sinners. It was the only solace I could cling to.
The door to my room slowly creaked open, the darkness within absolute. My hand found the switch without effort. I’d done this enough times by now to operate by memory. I should have been ashamed; instead, I was hard as a fecking rock. She was already there and on display, just for me.
Well, not just for me. But my eyes were for her alone. It was easier to pretend I was the one touching her and responsible for those breathy little moans that fell from her lips. Even now, the scent of her cunt sparked in my mind, the taste of sweet honey and cream, the memory that I could’ve fucked her deep and hard on the desk in that study room during the ball fresh in my mind.
“Fecking hell, I am depraved,” I muttered even as I took my seat and unbuckled my belt.
Her voice filtered in through the speakers, sweet and perfect, an angel sent from God to test me. I was a failure.
“Then do it, Noah. Claim me.”
My hand snapped out, shutting off the speaker. I didn’t need to hear how much she loved him. If I didn’t have to listen to the words, I could believe they were for me as I read her lips. Her moans, the look on her face as she found pleasure. I could pretend she was in my arms, taking my cock, scoring her nails along my back. Not his.
When I was in here, I could pretend she was mine. And I did. I watched the forbidden fruit be plucked that first time, and every single time they were here thereafter. Only when she came in alone did I finally give in and join her in her sordid fantasy. Because it was aboutme.
How could I resist the angel of my darkest desires when she called outmyname? I was only a man. I was weak. Broken. Soulless. But damn it all, in that moment, I was hers.
One soft gasp from her, and I’d thrown my resolve out the window. I’d lost my soul when I’d been made a vampire. What was I holding on to my vows for? I was damned already. Hellbound and lost. Forsaken by the very God I’d sought to serve. Why should I deny myself the only thing I’d wanted in decades?
So I let the sin of lust take me prisoner. As though observing a holy rite, I’d even anointed her with my seed. Marked her as mine. Watched as she’d rubbed the proof of it into her skin, branding herself in my scent.
Trails of crimson streaked down Sunday’s neck as Noah drank from her. My fangs filled my mouth as a new kind of hunger joined the first.
Fuck, but I wanted to taste her again. Her blood was every bit as delicious as her sweet cunt. A groan tore from my chest, and I gave in, spitting into my palm before encircling my cock and stroking from crown to base, gripping hard enough to hurt. My hips kicked upward involuntarily as I searched for more friction, moving in time with the thrusts she was taking.
Sensation built at the base of my spine, but I needed more. I needed to be closer to her. Getting to my feet, I planted one hand against the cool surface of the glass, my other hand working furiously. I was already so close, desperate to ride out the orgasm along with her. Preparing myself to drown in the wave of shame and guilt after, but ready to accept it as penance for wanting her.
My thighs tensed, balls tight and heavy as the swell of pleasure built, ready for the dam to break. “Yes, Sunday, take my fucking cock,” I murmured as precum dripped from the head. “It’s all for you, my sweet girl.”
As if she could hear me, Sunday threw her head back, her mouth opening on a scream. One last glide of my fist, and I was right there with her, grunting out her name as if she was both my salvation and my curse.
Because she was.
I bowed my head as though in prayer as I rode out the last pulses of my orgasm, the wall of glass painted with thick ropes of my release. God save me; I was weak for her. My stomach churned as I brought my gaze back to her, to where Blackthorne had lifted her onto his lap and latched her mouth to his chest.
