pretense of a buffer there, my most intimate skin now rubbed against my legs folded underneath me on the cushion with every little move I made.
It was both arousing and maddening.
Azazel and Zaquiel engaged in what I imagined was demon small talk, mentioning people and places whose significance flew right past me with what little knowledge I had of Hell and its inhabitants. They might as well have been talking in another language.
I did try to pay attention at first, to see if I could glean some more useful information about either Azazel or my new home down here. The longer I sat, however, the more the sensual drums of the music sank into my bones, reverberated in my blood, the more the sight of the dancers twisting and twining to the rhythm in an artistic rendering of sex drew my focus, the more Azazel’s caresses—on my head, down to my neck—scattered my thoughts.
By the time Azazel broached what seemed to be the business part of their conversation, I was half feral inside, vacillating between a weird mix of languid sensual relaxation and throbbing need. Any lingering self-consciousness about the amount of skin revealed through the lace of my dress had long slid off me, and all that was left was a creature fitting right in with the sexually charged atmosphere of the room.
Azazel’s hand tangled in my hair, pulled my head to the side and back until I could see him out of the corner of my eye. The position forced me to lean back until I was sprawled over his lap from my shoulders up, my breath unsteady and fast.
Go get me a drink, he said in my mind, his other hand stroking a line of heat down my throat, toward the neckline of my dress. And one for yourself as well, before you catch fire.
More like dying of boredom, I shot back.
Oh?
With a tug on my hair he made me stand up and immediately tumbled me onto his lap, my legs dangling over his thigh on one side while he held me upright and half leaning against his chest with a firm grip on my hair. My hands reached out to grasp his shirt for purchase. The heat of his body poured into me, ignited the already simmering fire burning in my core.
So if I were to stroke between your legs, he said in a silken murmur, I wouldn’t find you wet?
My breath hitched. I squirmed in his hold, and even though technically I was still covered, air brushed against the very spot he’d mentioned, proving his assumption true.
Zaquiel said something about streamlining trade processes, and Azazel’s reply might have contained something along the lines of decreasing soul qualities, but the words were a blur, drowned out by the hammering of my heartbeat, the drums of the music, the rapid rise and fall of my own breath.
With his focus unnervingly on the conversation with the other demon, Azazel laid his free hand on my knee, slid it higher in oh-so-torturously slow increments. I both dreaded and craved the conclusion to that exploration, unable to do anything but sit still and anticipate.
Now underneath the skirt of my dress, his fingers inched up, drawing tiny circles ever closer to my core.
“I recognize your supply lines are compromised,” he said to Zaquiel. “And I appreciate your willingness to reconsider the terms of our deal.”
Zaquiel’s reply got lost in the undignified sound I made when Azazel’s finger brushed my skin less than an inch from the damningly wet proof of my arousal. I involuntarily jerked on his lap—and my hip rubbed against the very, very hard proof of his arousal.
Ha!
I wasn’t the only one affected here. Somehow that realization made me feel a lot better. As cool as he was playing this, he couldn’t deny his own physical reaction to having me squirm on his lap.
And squirm some more I did, just to aggravate his situation a bit.
His grip on my hair tightened, and his fingers dug into my thigh. When I chanced a glance at his face, his pupils had dilated, almost swallowing the lightning storm of his irises. When his gaze met mine, an electric current bolted through me, arrested my breath.
Go fetch those drinks, he said mentally and pushed me off his lap.
Taken aback by the sudden move, I swayed a little on traitorously unstable legs. He grabbed my hips to steady me, then ran his hands over the curve of my ass, resting them on the exposed