sound of someone making an entrance. The door to the next room was ajar, and I’d hear it if anyone came in, would see the lights flaring in the rest of the suite.
I could be out of this bed and behind the connecting door in seconds.
I’d be fine, and Azazel would have a nice olfactory surprise waiting for him.
Biting my lip, I closed my eyes for a moment and pressed the vibe down on my clit. Pleasure zinged through me. My toes curled, grasped the sheets, and my hips lifted off the mattress.
The image of Azazel in all his naked glory flashed through my mind. His hand squeezing his cock. That gleam of hunger in his eyes as he looked at me. In my imagination, he stroked the length of his dick, slowly, tantalizingly, while he prowled closer, closer…
I thought of those sensual lips of his on my skin, on my breasts, licking and sucking like he’d done during the meeting, only now no lace—however flimsy—separated the heat of his mouth from my nipples.
A quick glance to the door in the wall in front of me, leading to the next room, and the window to the balcony confirmed I was still alone.
I laid my free hand on my breast, squeezed and teased the tight, sensitive bud.
Desire curled in my core, the pressure mounting. I was close, so close.
“I would ask if you’re thinking of me…”
I froze at the familiar voice, the purred question coming from my left, followed by the snick of a door falling shut.
Wreathed in shadows, Azazel leaned with one shoulder against the now closed door to my suite—the door I hadn’t monitored, so sure he’d come back either from the balcony to my right, or the door to the rest of his suite in the wall opposite the bed.
The vibrator buzzed between my thighs. My hand was still on my breast, fingers pinching my nipple.
His eyes flashed lightning in the semi-darkness.
“Fuck,” I breathed.
“That can be arranged.” His voice was lust wrapped in sin, his power drenching the room.
My inner muscles clenched, the ache growing only stronger for the lack of something to clench around. I couldn’t wrench my gaze away from Azazel’s, couldn’t move, my hand clutching that damn vibe. Its incessant, persistent buzzing reinforced the throbbing around my clit.
If I shifted it just a little, pressed down right there...I’d come apart. The wave hovered, crested, a heartbeat away from breaking.
The vibrator disappeared.
One moment I held its weight, the hum of its motor massaging my flesh, the next my hand was empty. My fingers twitched around nothing.
Because I was still holding Azazel’s gaze, I saw in clear, excruciating detail how he lifted his hand—now grasping my vibe—up to his face and inhaled. The shadows surrounding him deepened while his eyes flared with silver fire.
I made a sound close to a whimper.
That spot between my thighs, primed and ready, wet and waiting, almost hurt because of the abrupt abandonment, the lack of pressure.
“Need a hand?” The timbre of his voice stroked me as much as a physical caress.
I trembled. Yearned.
“I’ve got two,” I whispered, clueless where that sass came from at this moment. “But thanks.”
And as if all my good sense had made a nosedive into reckless territory, I lowered my fingers until they pressed against my clit.
He was on me before I could draw my next breath.
Grasping my wrists, he shoved my arms above my head, his large frame looming over me as he straddled me. The mattress dipped with his weight. His power pulsed in the air, making my heart stutter.
And yet he didn’t touch me anywhere other than to hold my wrists in place.
The stark juxtaposition of him still fully clothed while I quivered naked underneath him did something delicious to my insides.
“When you’re in my bed,” he murmured, the dominant glint in his eyes pinning me as effectively as his hold on my wrists, “you will not come by your own touch.”
I swallowed, my mouth gone dry. I had to push him, didn’t I?
“If you want release,” he continued, his thumbs now rubbing over my pulse points, “you either leave this bed and get off in your own, alone...”
I squirmed, my skin too tight, too hot.
“...or you stay…” His gaze burned me. “...and ask me to take care of you.”
My breaths sawed in and out of me.
“What’s it going to be, Zoe?”
God help me.
That knife’s edge on which I balanced. It would cut me