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“Play with yourself,” he urges on a strained breath. “Touch yourself. Let me see you play with that perfect little clit while you ride me.”
Even though he told me to touch my clit, I take my time getting there, obeying his commandmyway. One hand remains on his chest for support as I start to play with my breasts with the other hand. I pinch my nipples, then pinch them hard and moan as I slam myself down on him.
“You dirty fucking girl,” he rasps, his nostrils flaring as he watches every movement. “You like teasing me, don’t you?”
I smirk down at him. “I thought you said you know how I think. Then you should know the answer is yes.”
He slaps my ass, gripping and massaging my ass cheek to soothe away the sting, and I feel myself coating his cock in more wetness as I let my head fall back, losing myself in all of it.
I ride him harder as my hand falls from my breasts and finally goes to my clit. I rub myself in tight circles, starting off with a light touch and then increasing the pressure as my body starts to spiral toward another climax.
“I’m gonna come,” I murmur, squeezing my eyes shut. “Come with me, Lucifer. Please.”
“Eyes on me, little bird,” he commands, the raw hunger in his voice making my eyelids pop open immediately. “Watch what you do to me. See how you fucking undo me. How you fuckingwreckme.”
My pussy tightens in response to his words, and my jaw drops open as I keep riding him and stroking my clit. Our gazes are locked, everything else fading away as we devour every expression on each other’s faces. And when my orgasm finally hits, I let him see the pleasure that swallows me up like a tsunami, crying out his name in a hoarse, ragged voice.
“Lucifer!”
“Fuck! Sophia!”
My name falls from his lips a second later, and he pumps up into me, meeting me thrust for thrust as he fills me with his sticky release. As his cock throbs inside me, he sits up suddenly, wrapping his arms around me and crushing our chests together, holding me in his embrace like he’ll never let me go.
His primal grunt rumbles in my ear, and I swear I hear the word“mine”in there somewhere.
A smile twists my lips as I cling to him, feeling the truth of that single word resonate in my chest.
He’s not wrong. Iamhis. But he’s mine too.
Chapter13
Lucifer
Still inside Sophia,I sit up and hold her close. With the hormones expelled from my body, I’m left only now with the bittersweet taste of dissipated panic. I haven’t felt fear like that in decades. Now that it’s melting away I can feel how deeply it tore at my heart, how close it came to wrecking me. Holding her, having her close and safe and so very alive, it soothes the ache. She brings me peace. If she’d died…
My heart drops like a rollercoaster cart at that thought, giving me emotional vertigo. I would lose my mind. I would burn myself to the ground, never to recover, and I would probably take half of Hell down with me.
I need her to stay alive, I need her to be safe. I need… fuck, I just need her. I’ve never needed anyone, not like this. Feeling protective of her is something I acknowledged long ago. Feeling safe with her is an entirely different story, and a confusing one. I’ve never been aware of feeling unsafe, emotionally. Or maybe I have, but never acknowledged emotional safety as something desirable, or the lack thereof as a problem. Hell, I don’t know if I’ve ever acknowledged emotions apart from rage and satisfaction. Sophia holds worlds of them within her, and opens that universe in me.
If I lost that link—if I lost her—I would become a shell of the being I am and a monstrous mutation of the man I was. I can’t lose her. I can never lose her.
Slipping out of her, I roll her over. She gazes up at me with those soft eyes full of all the things I never knew I needed. The wounds on her chest, although healing quickly, are still an angry red. I kiss them, one after the other.
“I missed you today,” she murmurs softly.
“And I missed you.”
I’ve missed you for decades and centuries untold, since before your ancestors set foot on the continent which bore your to me, when the reality of you was nothing more than a statistical possibility.
I keep my mouth pressed to her chest, unwilling to let those words cross my lips. Not yet.
“I spoke to my father,” I tell her once I have swallowed the emotions that press insistently against my tongue. “I confronted him about the attempt on your life.”
“So it was deliberate,” she says grimly.
“It was. Those snakes aren’t your average household pests. And they’ve been all but eradicated in the wild. Someone owned that snake, and someone released it.”
Her fingers stroke my hair absently, a gesture of affection so natural it requires no thought. A contented sigh escapes me. “Were they after me specifically, do you think?” she asks. “Or after you?”
