Chapter Thirty Azrael
Chapter Thirty
Azrael
Mine and Charlotte’s rebellion doesn’t last long, but it’s so fucking sweet, so fucking sinful, and we’re both wound so tight from the earlier part of the scene that my ex has no choice but to sit back and give in.
Or make it look like he has anyway.
Lucifer watches us hungrily.
I’m so close to finishing, I’m certain I’m only a few thrusts from spilling myself inside her again.
That narcissistic bastard had it coming.
The look of unchecked fury in his eyes is such sweet fucking vengeance, such delicious torture, it almost makes me—
“Reaper,” Lucifer purrs, his voice smooth and low and . . . submissive, like it used to be. Like it was so many times when I was inside of him.
Before we both realized he preferred it the other way around.
Before he started to loathe his own vulnerability and recognized that me letting loose was too dangerous. My balls tighten, that familiar tone when I’m already teetering so close to the edge nearly making me cum, but Charlotte’s not quite ready.
Her eyes dart back and forth between us as she watches us eagerly. But she’s so close to her own finish, her pussy tightening around me like a vise, she doesn’t seem capable of doing anything but panting.
Good.
I want her ruined.
I want to ruin her in front of him.
I reach down and finger her clit, giving her the extra stimulation she needs as my other hand comes to one of her breasts.
“Azrael,” she moans, not remembering to call me by his address, like she’s already long forgotten the purpose of this little game we’re playing.
She’s so clearly focused on me that her cries only seem to make Lucifer even more furious. The edge of my mouth twists.
Let that devious bastard watch while I fuck his queen.
“Reaper,” Lucifer taunts again, that soft, familiar tone calling to me, unleashing something dormant inside of me until I have no choice but to turn and look at him.
He strokes his free hand up and down the length of his cock, from tip to throbbing base. He’s not as thick as I am, but he’s longer, able to reach places inside me that wring out a pleasure I never would’ve thought possible.
“Azrael?” Charlotte cups my cheek.
But I’m unable to look away from where Lucifer’s hand is still trailing over the swollen head of his cock. The thick vein there. The bead of precum that gathers as he . . .
“Azrael.” This time, Charlotte’s more insistent.
She tries to guide me back toward the light, toward her, just as Lucifer says, “You’re thinking about that time in Pompeii, aren’t you?”
My spine stiffens.
“Or Sodom.”
“Azrael.” Charlotte’s voice rises, strained, frustrated. Like we’re both hanging over the same cliff, but she’s starting to fall and Lucifer’s holding on to me.
And I’m torn between two equal parts of myself. The softer side I’ve given to her recently, and the darker one, the majorly fucked-up one, the Grim Reaper who’s always belonged to—
“Or how about that kiss at the CFDA awards?” Lucifer says, driving the final nail in as he crucifies me. “It’d been more than a few centuries since you’d let loose. Did it make you crave it?”
Charlotte goes still in my arms, and I can tell from her sharp intake of breath that whatever she expected Lucifer to say, it wasn’t that.
I made a mistake not telling her.
But that was between him and me.
The three of us were barely a thought then.
Charlotte starts to pull off me, but my grip on her tightens.
“No,” I snarl, looking back at her and refusing to let go. Not unless she uses her safe word. “Don’t let him ruin this.”
Her eyes go wide like she never expected I’d refuse her.
I’ve been intentionally gentle with her up until now, kept myself leashed.
But now the truth’s come out to play.
“The Black Plague was another favorite,” Lucifer drawls, like he’s listing off my greatest accomplishments, rather than all the times when he made me . . .
Goddammit.
Charlotte’s eyes go so wide.
Something primal in me awakens.
“If you run, it’ll only make it worse,” I growl as I drag her back down, impaling her on my swelling cock so hard she cries out.
The fear and the hint of challenge in her eyes nearly undoes me.
But I won’t stop.
I don’t ever fucking stop.
Not when he’s torn off my mask like this.
I grip her face. “You wanted this, little siren.”
Charlotte shoves against me, her hands slamming into my chest as she fights me, but I thrust into her even harder, my grip tightening to the point of near pain.
I slam her onto her back on top of the bench and pin her hands above her head before she can manage to get away from me. “Don’t you fucking dare,” I snarl.
But she has her safe word, and she doesn’t use it.
“Daddy?” she pleads, trying a different tactic as she glances toward Lucifer.
Like now that she’s seen this side of me, she’s frightened by it.
“Put her up on the rack once you’re finished with her.” Lucifer smirks, not an ounce of pity in his voice, like he’s the true puppet master of this whole goddamn thing. “You wanted to fuck Death? The Grim Reaper, Charlotte?” That devious grin of his widens. “Now it’s your turn to watch, darling.”