neck, swiping me one last time before turning and tossing the towel in the sink and walking out.
“Wait,” I say, forcing my legs to work again as I follow him into the bedroom. “You burned my shirt,” I remind him before picking up my pants and pulling them on.
“You can wear one of mine,” he says as he heads into a closet.
By the time my pants are on and my boots are laced, Jerif comes out fully dressed in black cargo pants and a gray T-shirt that pulls at his muscles. He hands over a black shirt that smells like him. “Wings, remember?” I tell him.
“I burned holes in the back for them already.”
I turn the shirt around and notice that he did, in fact, burn me some holes. “Such a gentleman,” I snicker before turning around and giving him my back.
I pull the shirt on over my head, and Jerif automatically takes the fabric and feeds my wings through the holes. It’s much easier to do with a looser shirt—and with someone else to help. Still, I’m committed to the strapless top thing. I really need to order some easy for wings shirts to make my life easier. I wonder if Hell has Amazon Prime? Or Maybe Tazreel will give me Lousen the dress designer’s number. I bet she knows how to fashion shirts that work with bird parts.
Turning around, I loosely tuck some of Jerif’s shirt into my pants to help tighten the chest area around my boobs. “Okay,” I say, nodding to myself that this is good enough. “I’m ready to deal with Pride.”
Jerif snorts before taking my hand and tugging me out of the room. I look back longingly at our little spot on the floor, already missing sitting next to the fire and fucking on the feather down blanket.
“Soon,” Jerif promises me, as if he can read my mind, as he pulls me into the hallway.
“I’m going to take you up on that,” I tell him.
“I’m going to take you up against a lot of things,” he counters.
My pussy flutters at the delicious promise. I’m so game for that.
“Do you know where they are?” I ask as Jerif leads me down a bunch of unfamiliar hallways. “Also what’s a girl gotta do to get a tour around here?”
Jerif snorts. “I’ll give you a tour, Princess, I just need enough time to do it so I can fuck you in every room as we go.”
My vagina clenches greedily, and my ass holds up a sign that says put me in, Coach.
“Nothing says home sweet home like I came all over that,” I agree evenly, completely on board with that plan.
I immediately start thinking of ways to get rid of Tazreel so we can implement the Tour de Sex. I don’t even know if I want to meet my biological mother. How am I supposed to feel about the person who birthed me, blocked me, and left me to live a lie my whole life?
Jerif leads me into an atrium—or at least, that’s what I think rich people call weird rooms full of plants and too much sunlight. I could probably fit eight of my houses in this place. Actually, make that nine, I observe, as we exit a row of plants on tables and I discover a whole section of planter beds that seem to be filled with vegetables.
Imps are inside the space, tending to the indoor mini farm. I can hear Tazreel’s pompous voice bouncing off the glass ceiling as he recounts some useless story that probably has nothing to do with anything other than him loving the sound of his own voice and talking about himself.
I’m going to owe the guys so hard for keeping him entertained while I was sobering up on Jerif’s cock.
“Ahhh, there she is!” Tazreel announces jovially as Jerif and I get closer to the flower covered corner they’re all standing in.
I get the impression that Tazreel might need to spend some time sobering up himself, judging by the way he whirls to me and Jerif, spilling half the contents in his glass. He stares at the puddle of spirits he just deposited on the ground and then looks at the massive red blossom next to him and says, “You’re welcome,” as though the flower should’ve thanked him personally for the shot of alcohol.
Surprisingly, the guys don’t look put out or irritated at all, they look easy and casual like—gasp—they might be having a good time. Maybe they’re drunk too,