God help him, he wanted her too. But not yet.
“What else?” When she said nothing, he started rubbing circles on the pillowy pad of her pussy, still over her underwear, taking care to put extra emphasis over her clit. “Come on, Suzanne. Tell me what else you want.”
Several moments of silence ticked by, and then, as if a dam had broken inside her, she blurted, “I want to be free. I want to cook. That’s what I am.” She let out a sob. “I’m a cook, and I’m social, and I want to choose my own path and be free of all the damned rules!”
Rules? There were rules for being rich? But actually, when he thought about it, maybe for people like her, there were. Maybe she felt constrained by her family name or the expectations that came with belonging to the D’Angelo empire. All that money, and she still felt trapped.
For a moment, he wanted to tell her to snap out of it. There were worse problems than having money. But obviously, her feelings were real, and she was sobbing as if this was the first time she’d admitted it.
For all of that, she deserved as much from him.
He tunneled his fingers beneath her panties again, and this time, he eased one finger just inside her. They both groaned as he tested her slick, tight channel.
He wanted to do more. He wanted to drop to his knees and lick her until she screamed, but unfortunately, he had other plans for his mouth. He had to give her something he didn’t want to give up.
He had to tell her about the tattoo.
This was going to cut deep.
“Back when I was in the military,” he began roughly, “I had a friend named Gareth. We were part of a joint special forces team made up of members from the Air Force, Navy, Army, and Marines. He was a Ranger.” The team had gone on dozens of missions together, and Declan had patched them all up at one point or another. “I earned a reputation of being a good luck charm, and Gareth got everyone calling me their guardian angel. It was a fucking stupid nickname, but it stuck because whenever I was with a unit or team, no one ever died. Hell, we were freakishly lucky all the time. Enemy RPGs would fly off course and hit empty buildings, IEDs would fizzle out before they detonated... Once, a mountain landslide took out thirty enemy combatants before they could ambush us. So anyway, once when we were on leave, Gareth got me drunk and made me get this tattoo. I don’t even remember getting it.” Which was probably a good thing, because his life went to shit afterward. He drew his finger up her slit, spreading her satin cream over her swollen flesh. “Back to you now.” He made some slow circles around her clit, and she began to pant. “You say you want to be free. Why can’t you be?”
“I—I think I can. I think...this is a start.”
“This?”
She wiggled, rattling her cuffs. “I’ve never done anything like what we’re doing. It’s terrifying. But I have to take risks if I want to be happy, right?”
If she thought he’d be surprised by the fact that she’d never toyed around with BDSM, she was as crazy as her assistant. But he got what she was saying. Sometimes your comfort zone doubled as a prison.
“Keep doing that,” she whispered, straining to push into his touch. “And tell me why the tattoo bothers you so much. I don’t think it’s just because your friend got you inked while you were drunk.”
No, it wasn’t. “I wasn’t even mad. I was cocky. I was a fucking good luck charm, a guardian angel.” And after a childhood of being invisible at best and a means to an end at worst, being needed, being important, was something he’d craved. “But then we got back to work. And one week later, Gareth died when the Humvee he was in ran over an IED. I was in the vehicle behind his. Saw the whole thing. And I couldn’t save him.”
“I’m so sorry, Declan.” Her soft voice held a slight tremor, a testament to her ability to feel empathy for others. “You know it wasn’t your fault, right?”
His heart jerked painfully against his ribs. It was his fault. Because everyone, including him, believed he had some kind of good luck mojo going on, and they’d gotten careless. Gareth had paid the price, and that emotional laceration was never going to heal no matter how many times someone used the words “It wasn’t your fault” like a bandage.
“Whatever.” He moved between her legs and let his fingers play on the satin skin of her inner thighs and ass. Touching Suzanne was far more pleasant than reliving the past. “Now you know something no one else does. Please don’t make me regret telling you.”
“Never,” she swore, the tremor still in her voice. “But Declan?”
“Yeah?”
“Halo.”
Chapter Twelve
Halo.
Suzanne couldn’t believe she’d used a safe word. Someone had once told her that safe words were for people who wanted the freedom to say no during sex play without stopping the action. There were other reasons too, she supposed, but she’d simply never seen herself having the kind of encounter that would require a safe word.
But now she understood what the safe word meant to Declan. Like he’d said at the beginning, it was about trust. It was a contract, a guarantee that she was safe with him. She hadn’t needed it—she knew in her soul that he wouldn’t hurt her. And if her soul was wrong, well, he was no match for her power and abilities.
On the other hand, she was no match for his skilled hands and cool, commanding voice, and she’d been on the verge of letting him take her virginity on a bondage horse while in cuffs.
She was not wearing cuffs for her first time.
But more than that, she was in a state of overload. She’d admitted things to him that she hadn’t even admitted to herself. He’d told her things he held private. And he was touching her like no male had ever touched her.
She’d never felt like this, like she was going to explode from her skin, and she just needed a minute to gain control of the situation before she let Declan take command of her desire and her body. She definitely trusted him with those.
As the safe word faded in the air, Declan froze, his fingers digging into her hips. Then, slowly, deliberately, he released her, unlocked her cuffs, and freed her from the stocks.
“I’m sorry if I upset you.” He offered his hand to help her up off the bench.
“You didn’t upset me.” She pushed up on her elbows and resisted the urge to pull down her dress to cover herself as she lay on her belly, her legs still draped on either side of the bondage horse. She felt so exposed, but at the same time, she felt a sense of power every time Declan’s hungry gaze drifted to her legs and backside. “I want to tell you anything you want to know, and I want to learn more about you, but not right now. I need… I want…more.”
He stood there, his body as tense as a steel rod, a massive erection straining at the fly of his jeans. “More of what?” His voice was raw, as if every word hurt. She got that. She ached all over...but she was certain she knew the cure.
Summoning the erotic advice of every women’s magazine article she’d ever read, she reached down and pulled her dress up, defying the instinct to shove it down. If you want it, ask, they said. You’re responsible for your own pleasure.
She was also responsible for her own wings, which she most likely wouldn’t get if she did this. If someone found out she did this. Yes, she could keep her mouth shut and no one would know, but during the Ascension ritual, when it came time for Confessions to the Council, she knew she’d tell the truth.
I had sex and didn’t regret it.
That, she knew, would be the truth.
The hard, cold, steel gray of Declan’s eyes became molten as he took her in, her dress now hiked up around her waist as she bent over the bondage horse, her panties damp and begging to be torn off.
“Tell me exactly what you want, Suzanne,” he said softly. Was he kidding? Her ass was hanging out all over the place, and if that wasn’t an invitation to sex, she didn’t know what was. But she wasn’t entirely sure how to do this. There was a little more to it than she’d expected, which was a happy surprise.
She could start with something b
asic and obvious. “Your fly. Open it.”
His fingers found the top button of his jeans, but there they rested, waiting for her command.
“Yes,” she whispered, her gaze glued to his hand.
She squirmed as he popped the button. Then the next one, giving her a glimpse of dusky skin. Was her mouth supposed to water? Because it was.
He stepped closer, popping two more buttons, and his erection, a magnificent column of smooth skin and bulging veins, sprung free.
Oh, my.
She’d never been this close before. Not like this. Something in her belly fluttered wildly as she reached for him, her fingers skimming the underside of his shaft. The hitch in his breath when she touched him made her own breath catch. She loved his reactions, loved the heady hit of feminine power she got when she caused them.
“It’s so...velvety,” she murmured.
“I’m not even sure what to say.” Holding her gaze with his, he covered her small hand with his big one, tightening her grip around him. “Like that.”
Shifting her weight on the horse so she wasn’t squashing her breasts, she squeezed his hard flesh, taking it from the thick base to the plump head.
“Faster.” His voice was a lash of command, and she didn’t even consider disobeying. Licking her lips, she pumped her hand and watched him rock into her fist, listening to his breath as it became ragged. “That’s right, Suzanne. Just. Like. That.”
A shudder shook her body at the praise, and all she could think about was how his cock was going to feel inside her. She’d pleasured herself, one of those Memitim rules they weren’t supposed to break, although Hawkyn had recently gotten that particular mandate revoked. But sex with another person, especially sex with one’s own Primori, was bad.
Whatever. Right now she felt like being bad. Very, very bad.
As if Declan could read her mind, he pulled out of her grip and moved behind her, his fingers trailing over her butt as he maneuvered himself around the bondage horse. His warm hands felt like fire against the place where he’d spanked her, and she moaned as the most decadent sensation filled her. She’d been shocked at first by the bursts of pain followed by moments of a soaring bliss that she wanted to hold onto forever.
“Talk about velvet,” he murmured as he stroked her hot, spanked skin, and then she squeaked in surprise when she felt his lips on that same spot. Oh, how she wanted to feel more of his lips, but then he straightened, gripped her panties, and pulled them down her legs.
She couldn’t have prepared herself for the sudden vulnerability of being naked in front of him, bent over and spread-eagled. Instinct made her try to close her legs, but he cupped her intimately, pressing gently in a soothing, tender massage that chilled her out like he’d hit a switch.
“This is going to be amazing, Suzanne.” Declan stepped back and suddenly, shockingly, he replaced his hand with his mouth.
“Dec—” She broke off with a cry as his tongue probed her slit, the tip teasing her entrance.
This was incredible. Decadent. So sinful she almost expected to be struck by lightning right through the roof of the house. With a moan, he spread her with his thumbs and delved into her slick heat, his tongue-lashing becoming a merciless torture as he licked and nibbled at her intimate flesh. And when he latched onto her clit and sucked, she sobbed with the need to come.
He seemed to know when she was right there at the edge, and then he’d cruelly change the rhythm or focus on a less sensitive spot. He teased and tormented her until she was a writhing, panting ball of need. And then, just as she gathered enough breath to beg him for release, he stopped.
Momentarily confused, she tried to crank her body around to see what he was doing, but right then he moved against her, pushing the blunt head of his condom-covered cock into her entrance.
The condom wasn’t needed since un-Ascended Memitim weren’t fertile, but she wasn’t surprised that he’d been prepared to protect her.
“Damn,” he breathed. “Oh, damn. I’m going to embarrass myself.”
That wasn’t going to happen, but she didn’t have the words to say it. Not when he was pushing inside her, stretching her to the very edge of pain. A good pain. She’d never known such a thing existed, but it did, and she wanted more.
As he pushed deep, her core clamped around him as if trying to hold him there. Her body hummed with lust, and the slow, easy thrusts weren’t enough.
“Faster,” she rasped. “I think I need...faster.”
As if he’d been waiting for permission, he hammered into her, his hard flesh stroking her slick channel. Every pump of his hips brought a new sensation and wrung a different sound from her. She especially loved how every time he came close to pulling out, the crown of his cock hit something near her entrance that made her wild. She nearly bucked herself right off the sex furniture until he gripped her hips harder, holding her for every punishing thrust of his hips.
Yes, oh...yes...there!
Every cell in her body quivered with ecstasy, making her shake and sob and see stars. Nothing she’d ever done by herself could compare to this. Nothing but Declan could make her blood steam through her veins with the hottest pleasure she’d ever known, and she knew it. She was spoiled now.
She’d need this again.
He shouted in his own release, his hips pumping violently, ramming her forward on the bondage horse. From this position she couldn’t see him, but she felt his fingers digging into her hips, felt every spasm that made his body jerk with ecstasy.
Finally, with a deep, tortured groan, he collapsed on top of her, his breath fanning across her neck as he panted in exhaustion.
“Declan?” Her voice sounded like she’d swallowed a mouthful of sand.
He grunted, but before he could say anything, the video monitor on the wall beeped, revealing a vehicle at the gate.
“Fuck.” He gently pulled free of her body, and she nearly wept at the loss. “That’s Steve. He’s here to help me figure out what’s going on with the security system.”
Bullshit. Oh, Steve was probably here for the reason Declan said, but she had no doubt he was also going to help Dec scour the place for a secret entrance. She hoped they didn’t find one. She didn’t know much about this house, and for all her denials, it wouldn’t surprise her if they discovered a portal to another dimension or some crap.
It was already proving difficult to lie to him, and she didn’t want to have to do it again.
There was, however, one thing she did want to do again, and that definitely wasn’t going to happen if Declan believed she was lying.
Chapter Thirteen
Azagoth hadn’t seen his mate in four months.
Everyone expected him to go full Grim Reaper over it. And, as he stood in his office, black clouds churning overhead and lightning striking all around him, he couldn’t blame them. He was known for his temper.
But for all these months he’d managed, more or less, to control his inner demon. When he needed to release it, he went to the Inner Sanctum and tortured a few evil souls. And not just tortured them, but scared them. He became their worst nightmares. He’d spent a full day on a new resident of the 3rd level, a serial killer from the human realm who’d gone by Jason Drayger. Hawkyn would be happy to know about it.
So, yes, he sometimes got to release the monster within, but on this side of Sheoul-gra, he’d kept his displays of fury limited to shit like this.
Except this shit was just for show.
Mostly.
Jim Bob, one of his Heavenly spies, had just revealed the identity of the person who had helped Lilliana get out of Sheoul-gra, and after four months without her, he really wasn’t in the mood for this.
“I know you’re a big fan of killing the messenger,” Jim Bob said, his face nearly obscured by the hood of his cloak. “But if you fry me, you’ll miss me.”
Azagoth snorted, but the angel was right. Jim Bob was, by far, his best source of Heavenly intel, and it would be a shame to electrocute him. It might
even take a little more effort than usual, given that the force of the guy’s angelic ability was tangible even here in Sheoul-gra, where Azagoth limited all power except his own.
“Then maybe,” Azagoth said, shutting down the storm, “you should bring me better news.”
Jim Bob shrugged. “I would think that learning Reaver helped your mate escape would have been good news. You know he’ll keep an eye on her.”
“Lilliana didn’t escape,” he snapped. “She’ll be back. And fuck Reaver.” Reaver, the most powerful angel in the universe, had been a thorn in Azagoth’s side for years, so it was no surprise that the haloed bastard had answered Lilliana’s call for help in getting out of Sheoul-gra.
He’d have to get Cipher to find out how she’d contacted Reaver. That was assuming he could get the Unfallen away from the flaxen-haired female he’d been doing every chance he got. Flail, a True Fallen, had been living here for a couple of months now, paying her rent in the form of intel gained from high-level demons and from cleaning toilets.
According to Hades’ mate, Cat, cleaning toilets was a great way to knock arrogant fallen angels down a peg.
There was a rap at the door, and Zhubaal stuck his head in. “Hawkyn wants to talk to you. Says it’s important.”
“It’s time for me to go, anyway.” Jim Bob moved toward the doorway, his black cloak flapping around his boots. “Be well, Azagoth.”
He ducked out, and Azagoth gave Z a nod. A moment later, Hawkyn entered.
“Father,” he said, bowing his head in greeting. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” His formality said he was here for Memitim concerns, but the worried thread in his voice said it was personal.
Which meant Azagoth was probably going to make it personal as well. “What is it?”
“It’s Suzanne. She’s gotten in too deep with her Primori, and she won’t listen to me. I was hoping you’d talk to her.”
If Hawkyn was asking Azagoth to talk to his favorite sister, the situation must be bad. “What do you want me to say? I’m going to need more to go on here.”