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Karma was indeed a vicious bitch who bit without provocation.
“First guess.”
It was embarrassing to realize she had completely lost control of the situation. The reins she’d gripped so tightly at first were now clenched in his hands, and she couldn’t get them back. He’d set the rules, he’d chosen the punishment and reward.
She had one ace in the hole left, the only thing that could possibly keep her from dying today.
What had possessed her, thinking she could outsmart the one being who literally had the lives of everything cupped in his palm? In her head, she’d always imagined herself to have the edge…and how laughable was that?
She had no say in the place or time, no input into how the game—her goddamn game—would go. She was a pawn in the skilled fingers of a chess grandmaster.
Blowing out a breath, Lara composed herself. She still had the ace, she reminded herself, refilling her lungs with oxygen and the scent of woodsmoke from a fire that burned no wood.
“Don’t keep me waiting, Ms. Townsend.”
“For fuck’s sake,” she snapped irritably. “Drop the formalities, will you? This is not a Ms. Townsend situation.”
“This is a whatever the fuck I want it to be situation, Ms. Townsend.” Unruffled by her outburst, Death smiled serenely as though she were a child on the verge of needing a timeout. “I’ll call you by your given name when you correctly guess mine.”
Asshole. Glowering at him, she folded her arms over her chest. “Fine. Azrael.”
The immortal being sprawling in the chair opposite her shook his perfect head, tsking softly in disappointment. “For all your bravado and eagerness to play this game, I expected you to come up with something more original than that.” With a sigh, he rose with definite care, popping open the buttons on his suit jacket. “Lose the shirt and bra, Ms. Townsend. Your first guess is incorrect.”
Stamping her foot was pointless—she knew it was the wrong answer, but his attitude…oh boy, if he couldn’t swat her like a fly, she would give him both barrels of sass. Instead, her hands trembled as she gripped the hem of her shirt and yanked it over her head, tossing the material aside as warmth from the room battled with the chill of her nerves.
Appreciation glowed in Death’s dark eyes as they roamed over her, his teeth scraping over his lower lip as he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over the back of the chair. To her surprise, he removed the waist jacket while she unfastened her bra and let the straps slide off her shoulders.
“I lost,” she said suspiciously, “so why are you stripping?”
“Why indeed.” Pulling his tie free of his collar, he proceeded to dispense with his shirt, stealing her breath as he revealed broader shoulders than his suit indicated, well-defined pectorals, and a not-quite-a-sixpack stomach. Fit, firm, but not steroidal.
She wanted to nibble her way down his arm from shoulder to wrist, maybe suck on a couple of those long fingers for good measure.
Death was fucking hot, and from the look in his eyes, he knew it.
Taking the tie between his hands, he pulled it taut, perusing her with intent. “It has been a long time since I had the pleasure of fucking a woman, human or otherwise. I see no reason to waste precious seconds undressing when you’re finally naked and I’m victorious in this strange game.” Prowling toward her, he grinned. “Link your fingers together at the back of your head.”
“Whoa there, buddy. No one said anything about bondage.”
“Not aloud,” he replied with a chuckle. “I’ve certainly been thinking about it.”
Why was he allowed to hold such power over her? It seemed completely unfair that he could make her wet with only words. She found herself leaning forward, gravitating toward him as he stopped in front of her. Her nipples were waving pom-poms, cheering for his attention in the hopes he would notice them.
“Hands. Head. Now.”
This was what she was here for, she reminded herself as her arms lifted, her fingers wrapping around the back of her skull and linking together. Of course, her pussy chose that moment to clench hard enough to send sparks of bliss snapping under her skin, almost rolling her eyes back into their sockets.
“Ah-ah, no coming until you have some part of me inside that cunt,” Death murmured, circling behind her. His skin was cold when he touched her wrists, only by a few degrees but certainly noticeable as he secured one end of the tie to her left wrist, then brought it down over the top of her right shoulder, circling it around her throat, over her left shoulder, and crossed it back to tie the end off to her right wrist. “Preferably my cock.”
Lara jolted, her hands automatically trying to resist the restraints, but all that happened was her breathing grew shallow. The silk tightened if she moved her hands too much, which meant she needed to remain incredibly still if she wanted to stay alive.
She shuddered as cool lips brushed over her shoulder lightly, and she was ready to throw the whole damn game in the trash and just get down to the sex, if he was up for it—no pun intended.
More than ready, she corrected, arching into his palms as they stroked around her ribcage and cupped her breasts in a firm, chilly grip. Her nipples doubled their efforts, jutting into his caress as a moan—her goddamn moan—broke free and shimmered on the air.
“Going to give me a ride to remember, aren’t you, Ms. Townsend?” Death chuckled in her ear, apparently pleased with the wanton, slutty noises battling in her throat for supremacy. “Maybe I’ll tell you my real name before I fuck the last breath from your lungs, so you can scream it.”
Goddamn him!
