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“Fuck,” Joy cried. “Yes.”
Using his wings for leverage, Malachi leaned up so he was balanced on his knees, his hands gripping her hips. He lifted her slightly off the mattress so she was balanced on her upper back, tilting her hips up for a better angle, then resumed his strokes.
Joy was reduced to drooling and babbling, her hands fisting the sheets on either side of her. Her tits bounced with every thrust, and Malachi felt secure in his mind’s whisperednext timeand as he hungrily watched them dance.
“Oh God, I’m coming,” shecriedafter a few minutes, her back arching, her thighs clamping around him.
“Yes,” Malachi growled, his tail flicking around his hip to where they were joined, finding her swollen clit.
Joy’s body locked up. Malachi held her to his straining length as she came, spasming around him. Stars burst behind his eyelids as he enjoyed the orgasm practically strangling his dick, his balls cramping.
When she relaxed, he resumed his movements, rutting into her like an animal,sweet little“ah, ah, ah”s escaping from Joy’s mouth with every thrust.
“When you come, I want you to bite me,” Joy gasped, the words leaving her lips like she was stating the time.
And Malachi was coming. He bent over her, slapping his hips into hers, his mouth working soundlessly at the intensity, his body shaking. His wings moved without his control, lifting them into the air for a brief moment, before they collapsed back onto the mattress.
“Holy shit,” Joy whispered while Malachi tried to regain his senses, his face pressed into her neck. “Did you just fly? While you wereinsideme?” Her scent went smoky and hot.
Malachi nuzzled her throat, grinning, tucking her reaction away for later. “Well, my wings are certainly not just there for decoration.”
Joy smacked his arm, but she was laughing. He leaned up on his elbows to look at her.
She bit her lower lip. “I missed you,” she whispered.
Malachi’s heart felt so fucking tender. “I missed you, too.”
Joy’s eyes were twinkling with happiness. Malachi leaned down, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against hers.
“I’m—I’m not good at being vulnerable,” he said, his voice so low she probably had to strain to hear him.
“Pot, meet kettle,” Joy said.
He laughed, and opened his eyes. “I’m not good at being vulnerable,” he repeated. “But I’d like to try with you.”
Joy’s eyes shone. “Me too.” She cleared her throat when her voice came out hoarse. “Me too,” she repeated, tilting her face up for a kiss.
Malachi kissed her, long and deep. He murmured against her mouth, “I wish to know—who is Joy, when she’s not being murderous?”
Joy laughed. “Who is Malachi, when he’s not making contracts?”
“I guess we have time now to find out,” he said, not managing to keep the hope from his voice.
Joy’s smile was so, so soft. “I guess we do.”
EPILOGUE
One Year Later
Iyore was, unsurprisingly, a stunning bride. Joy had expected her to get a moment of cold feet, but all Iyore seemed to feel was joy. Joy’s lips twitched at the entendre.
When Joy had summoned a demon to help her get rid of her rapist—permanently—she didn’t think she’d turn into some kind of vigilante.
After she’d summoned Malachi the second time, and they’d spent a few blissful days talking and fucking and cuddling and basking in what felt suspiciously like a honeymoon glow, Joy had finally laid down her plan on how to get revenge against Iyore’s uncle. Malachi had simply taken them into Iyore’s dreamscape, manipulating it so the man in question appeared in the dream and they got his identity. After that, and a bit of digging, Joy completed the deed.
Iyore didn’t seem to question it. After she’d announced it to Joy—“Heart attack,” she’d said, her voice devoid of emotion, her face slack of all expression—Joy had taken her straight to Coldstone for a heap of ice-scream. Her best friend had cried, but Joy hadn’t needed Malachi’s supernatural senses to know they were happy tears. After their ice-cream—and pizza—they’d gone dancing with the rest of their friends, Malcom included, though only he and Joy knew the real reason for the impromptu outing.
After the funeral—which neither she, Iyore, nor Malcom had attended—the eagerness to get married suddenly lit a fire on Iyore’s ass. She’d waited what she’d deemed an appropriate amount of time from the funeral,beforeshe’d gone into the frenzy of preparing for her wedding.
