Chapter 23
Lionel
“I’ll have you moaning on my cock for this,” the Devil whispered in my ear.
His words lashed me like a whip. I felt the blood drain from my face, felt hot and cold and thirsty. I trembled.
His fingers roamed under my shirt, over my chest, stopping only when they found my nipples.
He squeezed the right one between two fingers, and I made an involuntary noise somewhere between shock and pleasure in the back of my throat.
Lucifer rewarded me with a burning kiss against the side of my neck.
His lips sat like a brand against my skin, and while I knew I shouldn’t, I wanted to lean into this heat, this promise of pleasure.
I wanted the high I could glimpse on the other side of his touch, and if he’d been human, I’d have jumped at the chance. But he wasn’t, and I…
I knew this was a very bad idea.
Yet, his power, his magic wound around me like so many ropes of silk, insistent, but very soft in the way I was being bound. No magic I had ever experienced at the Collegium or elsewhere had touched me in this way—just another thing that drove home how totally other he was.
I’d tried to ignore what being so close to him, what having his damn delicious scent in my nose, did to me, but I was rock hard.
I didn’t dare look down at myself, because I knew I would see a painful bulge in my jeans.
A part of me ached for Lucifer to burn my clothes off me, but he didn’t do that.
His dazzling magic around me and his mouth on the skin of my neck were soon all I could think about. His tongue drew lines of sparks from one kiss to the next, and he kept rubbing my nipple until it was both too hard and too sensitive, and then he just kept going.
I squirmed in his arms, and it did exactly no good at all. His free hand was splayed over my abdomen in an oddly possessive gesture, its warmth radiating downward.
He made more of those primal noises between his kisses. If I’d heard them out in the woods at night, I’d have run for my life, but here and now…
I needed to get a grip. I needed to call it a night, go home, have ramen, maybe jerk off. Definitely jerk off. I almost had my mouth open to tell him, but he ground his hips against me as he held me, and all that came out was a high-pitched moan.
“Mmm, yes,” he said, his lips whispering over my heated skin.
I lifted my arms. I had to get him off me before he drove me insane.
I tried to dislodge his hand from my nipple, but fuck, I dug my fingers into him through the fabric of my shirt but…
Was I holding on to him instead of pushing him away?
Uh. I had to stay focused, and not on how firm he was or how good he smelled, although why did he have to be this firm?
My other hand went into his hair in an attempt to pry his mouth away from my skin.
Yes, I was most certainly prying him away and not holding on.
I’d wondered what his hair would feel like over the past few years, and had cursed myself every damn time for the thought. It was the texture of eiderdown and baby cat fur, very unexpected. Idiot that I was, I tangled my fingers in it and pulled.
That revved him up like a tuned race car.
He growled against my skin, the noise growing louder when I released my hold.
I gave up and left my hand in his hair, hoping it would prove a useful distraction soon.
It was better to touch him than… Yeah. What I really wanted was to touch myself, get myself off, but this was not the time.
I needed things to go back to normal now.
“Stop,” I said. “Let me go.”
My voice sounded…ugh. As if I were begging. That was wrong. I wasn’t going to beg the fucking Devil for any-fucking-thing. Ever. We’d only get more entangled than we already—and unfortunately!—were.
He raised his head but kept rolling my pebbled nipple between his fingers, driving me crazy.
“No,” he said, his breath tickling my right ear. “I’ll keep you right here. You taste so good, babe.” He planted a soft kiss on the sensitive spot just behind my ear. “Let me have your mouth.”
Fuck, no. That fucker. I tightened my fist in his hair, and he growled again.
He was too warm, his hand on my belly radiating heat, his fingers bruising my sensitive nipple.
This had to stop. I opened my mouth to tell him as much, but he twisted his fingers and pressed his cock against me, and instead of telling him to go to hell where he fucking belonged, I tilted my head back and moaned.
I moaned. Again.
That was a prelude to a walk of shame I didn’t want to do.
Lucifer chuckled and bent over me, claimed my mouth. His kisses before had been uninvited if hot. This one was that too, but also ridiculously possessive.
I gasped into his mouth. The tip of his pinky had somehow slid under my waistband while he steadied me as he rubbed his hard-on against my back. He was still fully clothed, but it hardly mattered. He was big enough that I felt him through all the layers.
I couldn’t focus on his hand, not with his tongue tracing my bottom lip before diving into my mouth. I tried biting down again, but the way he held my body pressed against his and my head angled back, I couldn’t get my jaw to close on that invading tongue.
And why the fuck were his lips so soft? His hair was bad enough.
I couldn’t let myself think about his lips or his warm breath washing over me.
I also couldn’t think anything along the lines of, Wow, I’ve never been kissed like this before.
Marc Deacon back at the orphanage had been my first kiss, and that had been…
nice-ish. Also awkward as fuck, but I needed a distraction from those perfect lips.
Lucifer’s hand wandered; not far enough that he could give me any stimulation, the kind I was secretly craving, but the temptation was there.
He placed his hand just above my right pants pocket.
I could have ground into it with a single twist of my hips, but I was a professional necromancer with lots of willpower, and I wasn’t going to stoop that hot—low. I wasn’t going to stoop that low.
Lucifer’s arm was a line of heat across my abdomen, and all of a sudden, his teeth nipped my lips. The next thing I knew, he’d shifted his hand from my left nipple to my right, and the sound I made in the back of my throat was completely involuntary.
Holy fuck. An aching cold marked the absence of his touch, and sizzling heat ran through my other nipple, and I just…
I sort of bucked as I tasted his lips against mine again and came in my pants.
I was coming.
In my pants.
With the Devil’s hands all over me.
His own still-hard and ready cock was practically rubbing a hole in my back through our clothing.
This could not be fucking happening. I wanted to die of embarrassment, because no way was I going to live and figure out what to do about the mess in my jeans without taking my pants off in front of Lucifer.
Even as my body jerked and shivered against him, his mouth smothering all the aching noises I made as he held me, I felt something overtake me—his power, most likely. I let it, and my eyelids grew heavy.
I passed clean out, surely the first necromancer in history to faint with cum in his pants and the Devil’s tongue in his mouth.