AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Lara didn’t want to die, so why the fuck would she ever want to be like him?
Seth growled, shaking off the sentimentality as he worked his hand out from the confines of her jeans and licked her juices off his fingers with an appreciative hum of delight.
No, it was better this way.
Once she lost the game, he would hammer as many orgasms as he could from her body, exhaust the fight from her busy brain, and when the order came down from above to send her home, he would rut her senseless and do the deed before she knew what hit her.
Moving around in front of her, he plastered a wicked smile on his face to disguise the unhappiness in his eyes. Tracing a fingertip around her taut left nipple, he reached down and flicked open the button of her jeans, lowering the zipper until the garment sagged on her hips. Taking the waistband and her panties in his grasp, he tugged them down to her knees, then set his foot in the crotch and pressed it down to the floor. “Step out.”
“I’ll fall.”
“I won’t let you.”
Pouting, Lara lifted her right foot, wobbling precariously. Her arms tried to balance her, but only succeeded in tightening the silk around her throat. Perhaps the predicament bondage was a tad too far, but Seth couldn’t help but love it—the touch of fear in her eyes, the knowledge that her life was indeed a fragile and easily snapped thread.
He hooked his fingers in the tie circling her throat like a collar, taking the pressure off her windpipe, then set his other hand on her hip to steady her. The fire behind her seemed to swell in the confines of the stone fireplace, crackling faster, the flames darkening to ochre, then a rich and tantalizing orange as his arousal surged.
Swallowing hard, she slipped one foot out, then the other, flushing as her body was bared in all its beautiful, naked glory. There were kings, princes, sheikhs, who would pay inconceivable amounts of money to have such incredible art featured in their collections, a queen hidden amongst paupers.
What he wouldn’t give to make her his queen.
When she stood defiantly with both feet firmly on the carpet, her hands locked behind her head, Seth stepped back and admired her. Graceful, swanlike neck—kissable and snappable. Strong shoulders with collarbones faintly ridged, leading down to the soft swell of her breasts. Pretty pink nipples, budded and darkening at the tip, begging attention from his mouth.
He was willing to bet she tasted divine.
Not as sweet as that pussy though, he thought with a smirk.
The slight paunch of her belly, the firm curves of her hips, suggested she wasn’t too concerned about looking like a size-zero model or hitting the gym, which pleased him immensely.
From what he could remember, pounding into a female was no fun when something sharp like hipbones protruding from beneath the skin were digging into his palms. A couple of firm handfuls of pliant flesh were more effective handles, making it easier to hold her in place while fucking her exactly how he liked.
A light covering of gold shaded the prize between her legs, protecting it, but unable to disguise the evidence of her lust. Her juices were smeared over well-proportioned thighs, demanding he kneel and lick every inch of her skin clean.
Instead of bowing to those imagined demands, Seth removed his own pants, deliberately slowly, amused by the dilation of Lara’s gloriously green eyes. He doubted the woman would survive a night of poker with drunken idiots, let alone win this fight she’d picked with him. Those eyes gave away everything.
“I’m going to be nice, Ms. Townsend,” he said casually, shoving down his boxer-briefs. People might wonder why Death, reaper of souls, bothered with such a human concept as underwear, but the truth was when a man—immortal or otherwise—was in possession of exceptional equipment, he needed to keep it protected, with ample support. “This is your last chance to bow out gracefully. Surrender your soul to me, and this will go no further.”
She just licked her lips, her eyes wide and locked with laser focus on his cock. “Sweet baby Jesus. God thought highly of you when it came time to hand out the goodies, didn’t He?” She blinked slowly, a wicked smile teasing her mouth. “Why bow out when I can bend over?”
Kicking away his clothes, Seth tilted his head in consideration, then reached out and released her from her bonds. The tie fluttered to the floor, forgotten, as he grasped her wrists, yanking her forward violently enough for their flesh to clap together, breasts to chest, cock to belly. “Is that what you want, mortal? To bend over for me, offering these tight little holes in lieu of your soul?”
“Not in lieu of,” she mumbled, still assessing his God-given gift with trepidation as she tried to peer between them.
Kissing her should probably be his next move, but he daredn’t risk it. There was magic in a kiss, an untold power that might have been watered down as the humans expanded their touchy-feely ways, but could awaken a beast in the right person.
If she were truly descended from witches, Lara could ignite the world.
A kiss, a lick, a stroke of his hands.
Was it worth it? Was it worth endangering the world and its people so he could stave off loneliness, making memories to last him another thousand years once she was gone?
Between commitment to his work and dedication to himself, he had to admit that here and now, he was choosing himself. Here was his space, his tiny sliver of peace. As long as she was here with him, he saw no reason to deny himself.
What he wanted, he would damn well take.
Grabbing her thighs, Seth hitched his captive up so she could wrap her legs around his hips. Her arms looped around his neck, her nipples rubbing against his chest and driving him crazy. The scent she exuded was akin to catnip to a goddamn tiger, making him want to dig claws into her ass and pound the soft, wet flesh between her legs into quivering submission.
Swinging her around to the bed, he let her fall, her upper body bouncing on the mattress he doubted he’d ever spent more than a handful of hours on, total. Her breasts lifted and fell in time with her gentle oomph of breath, but he held her thighs firmly against his hips, pleased with the bridge her naked body formed between him and the bed.
