24. Chapter 24 Lucy #2
The heat radiating off his body made me want to melt into him, but I resisted the instinct.
That wasn’t the game. I reached for his shirt, stripping it off him easily.
He plucked off my horns, tossing them aside.
I made short work of his jeans, shucking them down his thighs, leaving him in only his tight black underwear.
In return, he tugged me closer, working the zipper on my tiny red dress down to the small of my back. Cold air replaced silky fabric, and I shuddered delicately. In moments, I stood before him in my thong, thigh-highs, and strapless red bra.
“You are stunning.”
His hungry gaze slid over me restlessly, as if he couldn’t settle on just one glorious feature. The admiration in his gaze sent my heart into a free fall. For a moment, I forgot the game. Forgot the burning urgency that held me in thrall. Under Clay’s adoring gaze, I felt whole. Perfect.
I smacked my palm against his chest, pushing him toward his bed until the back of his knees hit and he sat before me. He lolled back, weight on his arms as he considered me hovering above him.
He was magnificent. Broad shoulders. Tanned skin. Slabs of muscle and intriguing dips and valleys. Only his boxers obstructed my view. I held his gaze and reached for the waistband, tugging them off over his impressive erection.
He stroked himself from base to tip, holding my gaze.
His underwear fell from my limp fingers.
I licked my lips, smacking my mouth. His eyes darkened.
One massive hand reached toward me, and I stumbled closer.
Maybe I leaned in. Maybe his arms were truly that long, but he wrapped a palm around the back of my neck, urging me toward his lap, and I fell to my knees, eager to do his bidding.
Stroking him became my mission. My reason. Soft and silky. Firm and hot. My hand wrapped around his girth, twisting and pulling until I reached his tip. It wept for me, and I smiled, taking in Clay’s slack expression, his eyes still glittering with banked desire even as he surrendered to my touch.
“I want to come in your mouth,” he bit out.
It wasn’t in me to capitulate that easily, even if his words made me eager to gloat as he stormed beneath me. I gave him a lazy smile.
“And I wanna come on your tongue and have you rail me until I’m sore, but we don’t always get what we want.” I paused, letting the lust seep into my expression. “Sometimes we get more.”
Dropping my palms to his upper thighs, I leaned in, capturing his mouth beneath mine.
He gave as good as he got, dueling in a battle that left me breathless when I broke away.
I dropped one knee, then the other, to the bedroom floor, grateful for the thick rug cushioning my knees.
He watched me greedily as I arched back, dragging my fingernails along his thighs to his knees, building anticipation.
Shifting until I could grip his penis by the base, I leaned over his lap, taking him in my mouth.
He was hot and silky beneath my tongue. Clay’s fingers speared through my hair.
Not demanding but caressing, as I pleasured him with my mouth, stroking, sucking, working up to a rhythm that seemed to please him, until he was vibrating beneath my hands with the urge to let go.
He arched back, arms supporting his bulk. “ Take it all.”
His desperate growl was all the warning I needed. Instead of pulling back, I wrung pleasure from him like my life depended on it, eager to make him mine. To make his head explode.
He trembled beneath me, and I gulped him down, devouring him. Leaving him wrung out and enthralled by my power.
He collapsed against the mattress, one hand on his heaving chest, skin damp with moisture. I leaned back on my heels, examining my prize. He really was a magnificent man.
“If you thought you could escape punishment for invading my world by sucking me off… you’re wrong,” his voice rumbled, reaching out like a silent caress. Clay’s eyes glittered with intent. He lazed beneath my gaze like a panther, searching for the right moment to pounce.
My thong was already ruined, slick with my moisture. But the way he looked at me from beneath his lashes, the dare in every arrogant line of his expression, made me liquify all over again.
“Do your worst, Hades. I love it when you threaten me with a good time,” I taunted.
He surged forward, surprising me with his burst of energy. I figured he’d need a solid thirty minutes recovery time, but he tipped me back onto the mattress with the starved energy of a man who hadn’t just had his brains blown out by a helluva orgasm.
“Lucifer, Lucifer, Lucifer. You have no idea how long I’ve been looking forward to this.” He manacled my wrists, forcing them above my head as he gazed deeply into my eyes. “I’ve been aching to make you mine for good. There’s no escaping me now.”
“Promise?”
He chuckled, the sound low and rough. Like he knew a secret I didn’t. His hands kept mine immobile. His grip didn’t hurt, but it kept me still. Ish. I arched my hips, seeking to rub up against him, but he pulled back, evading me.
“Not what I had in mind. Patience, Luce.”
“I’m done being patient,” I pouted.
“Then I’ll share a secret … me too.” The wicked glint in his eyes and the hint of smugness in his smile should have warned me. He tugged something from beneath his pillow, holding it up for my inspection.
“Do you trust me?” A blindfold dangled from his fingers.
“Yes.” My answer was instinctive. Clay had my heart. He’d absolutely earned my trust.
Anticipation flared as he slid the silken blindfold over my forehead until it cocooned me in darkness.
Being deprived of my vision helped me focus on other sensations.
The cool cotton at my back. A velvety voice singing from the speakers.
And the hint of lavender from the scented candle burning in the corner.
The mattress shifted beneath me. I could no longer see Clay, but at some level, I could still feel him. And I doubted he’d leave me lonely for long.
A minute ticked by. Two. I squirmed on the bed. While I could get up or remove the blindfold, it’d end the game. And I desperately wanted to see what Clay had up his sleeve.
Soft footfalls were my first clue that he’d returned. I shifted restlessly, aware that I was spread nearly naked across his bed, yet he hadn’t really touched me.
Heavy heat snaked up my ankle, along my calve to my inner thigh. Not skin. Not plastic. I struggled to place the sensation. It was hot, but not uncomfortably so. More like the gentle burn between my legs, making me ache for him.
Clay traced my body, his hands guiding the object.
Slowly, it cooled, until the trail it left behind had more to do with Clay than its heat.
He shifted above me, the bed rocking slightly, and returned with another hot, smooth toy, repeating the massage.
Heat zipped up my thigh, and I thrust my hips forward. Empty. Aching. Needy.
Moisture slicked my body, heat from his toys transferring to my nerve endings, creating a cauldron of warmth burning beneath my skin. I thrashed beneath him, stubbornly biting my lip to keep from making demands.
The bed shifted again, and I held my breath, heart beating with anticipation. He peeled my thighs open, leaving me exposed. I shifted restlessly, more than ready for whatever torture he had planned.
A hot object settled against my clit, and I hissed, the sound low and long, as I struggled for control.
The heat against my delicate flesh sent a flush through my entire body.
This time, it wasn’t smooth, but more ragged.
The texture was almost too much as he gently rubbed it against my mound, stimulating my clit.
I wanted to rip the blindfold off. Know what he was pleasuring me with.
It took every ounce of control I had left to let go and just feel .
Grating heat rubbed me. Gentle enough not to abrade, but firm enough to send me to the edge.
Sensation gathered, energy pulling from every corner of my body and centering on the top of my pussy.
“God, you are gorgeous like this.” Clay’s voice, husky and deep, added another layer to the sensuality gripping me as he rubbed, heat and light threatening to go supernova. “So earthy. Natural. Mine .”
The promise in that last word, the possession, sent me tumbling over the edge, spasming beneath him. Gasping out an orgasm more intense than I’d ever managed on my own.
He ripped the blindfold from my eyes, his expression pure smug pleasure. “How did I know that would finish you? Me calling you mine.”
“Maybe because it’s true.” If it came on a pant, sounded more vulnerable than I intended, he refused to take advantage. He leaned in, brushing my mouth in a kiss so delicate, I wasn’t sure I’d have felt it with my eyes closed. Like butterfly wings, it fluttered softly, a gentle worship.
“That’s okay, Lucifer. I’m every bit as much yours as you are mine.”
I trailed a hand down his chest, holding his gaze as I reached his hip and crossed to his groin.
“How do you feel about being mine again?” I added a slow stroke, emphasizing my point.
“Like I’m eager to please.”
“Robertson, I love you.”
The words slipped out, utterly natural. Like I’d been saying them for years.
I sheathed him, enjoying the way his lids fluttered as I stroked his chest, positioning myself. Sinking down on his erection inch by inch, holding his gaze only made me want to say the words again. And again. Until he was sick of them.
Instead, I began to ride, his fingertips branding my hips as he helped me find a rhythm that suited us both.
Rocking gently, closing my eyes, I let go, drowning in sensation.
Saturated in him, until I felt like we bled together in one big, beautiful piece of artwork, emotion achingly apparent in every stroke.