He pulled back and stared down at her. “Don’t think about it.”
He knew. Of course, he did. And like her, he seemed conflicted about it.
Or maybe she was simply projecting. Maybe he’d have no problem slitting her throat when the time came.
She raised her hand to her neck and covered it. Flimsy protection at best.
Making a sound she took to be displeasure, he stroked his big hands over her torso before cupping her breasts. His palms covered them easily. Fear aside, every fiber of her being responded to his touch. Even now, she was wet for him.
“No one will get past the wards I set,” he reminded her. What went unsaid was that he had no plans to kill her, either. At least not until after they fucked again.
They were alone for now. Lucifer wasn’t going to pop in and snatch her away for not killing Maccus. While she couldn’t stay here forever, for now, she was free to do as she pleased.
What would have happened if she and Maccus had met under other circumstances, one not tainted by secrets and lies?
I want to feel beautiful, like a woman, not a demon hunter.
Maccus’s dark eyes gave away nothing of his thoughts. But his body told a different story. His lips were slightly parted, his breathing heavy. The heat of his erection pulsed hard against her thigh. He was still, a patient hunter waiting to flush out his prey.
Death was always hovering, waiting to swoop in and take what little existence she had. She’d much rather taste life.
She placed her hands over his and pressed them more firmly against her breasts. Some piece of information tickled the back of her brain, some tidbit about a fallen angel. What was it?
Then Maccus leaned down and ran his tongue over the slope of her breast, and her mind turned to mush. Either she’d think of it later or she wouldn’t. But for now, she’d enjoy what was to come.
The texture of his skin was rough. The heat of his mouth made her crave more. And he gave it to her. He swiped at her nipple with his tongue before sucking on the hardened nub. Heat and tingles raced from that point down to between her thighs. She clutched at his hair, letting it glide through her fingers. It was as soft as the finest silk and a sensual caress whenever it brushed her skin.
His neck was thick, his shoulders broad. Touching him was like being allowed to pet a wild, exotic animal. One that others feared. It gave her a sense of courage and also of being privileged.
The erotic torture continued as he dragged his tongue over one nipple and then the other, massaging her breasts until it was no longer enough. A low growl slipped past his lips when she lifted her hips and rubbed herself against him. In retaliation, he worked his way down her body, peppering her torso with kisses until he finally settled between her spread thighs.
God, he was going to lick between her legs. Anticipation had her panting and her core spasming.
He placed his hands on her inner thighs and pushed them wide, exposing her totally to his gaze. His eyes flashed, turning from black to red, momentarily startling her.
Then he ran his tongue over her slick folds from back to front, and all else fell away. A low moan escaped her when he flicked his tongue over her clit.
“Don’t stop.” Her voice was hoarse with barely suppressed need. It was deeper than usual. Sultry.
He lifted his head and licked his lips, his eyes gleaming with sexual promise. Then he dove back in sucking and licking her into madness.
He’s going to kill me.
Was it possible to die of sexual frustration? Doubtful, but it seemed that way. It was too much. It wasn’t enough. He’d get her to the edge and pull back, leaving her hanging. She wrapped her legs around his shoulders and thumped her heels against his back.
The man was diabolical.
“Finish it before I kill you.” The threat was real. She was