Chapter Twenty-Seven Charlotte
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Charlotte
I drop to my knees, and what shocks me is that it’s not because I was ordered to or because I’m obedient like my father trained me to be.
Like everything with Lucifer ... it’s because I want to.
The power in that admission fills me, lighting me up with wet need as I kneel before him, fumbling with the buckle of his pants. I have the power here, in every sexual encounter between us, because he gave it to me. Gifted it to me with our safe word.
My chest feels light, buoyant in a way I didn’t know it could be as my mind churns with the possibilities.
I don’t even know if he could truly understand what that means to me.
Lucifer stares down at me from where he leans against the edge of his desk, watching. A smirk pulls at his lips as I expose him, and my eyes go wide.
He’s hot and thick and ready for me.
And I haven’t even begun to touch him yet.
I stare up at him, long lashes fluttering as I stroke a reverent hand over his cock, tracing a visible vein there. Like steel wrapped in velvet. “I did this,” I whisper. “I did this to you?”
He quirks his head. “You’re surprised?”
“You could have any woman in the world.”
“I could,” he says confidently. He looks at me, brows pinched inward, like he’s not certain where I’m going with this.
“And yet, you chose me.”
The pride that swells in my chest at that thought is intoxicating. And I know without a doubt he feels it. My offering.
His smirk widens. “Now, you’re speaking my language, Charlotte.”
I tighten the grip of my hand, licking my lips. “Just this once. This is the last time. Promise me.”
“I’ll promise no such thing,” he growls as his head falls back at how I stroke him. I focus on the sensitive head before trailing down his shaft, trying hard to get him to moan for me.
But he sees what I’m doing and a spark of amber lights his eyes.
“Don’t try to top from the bottom, little dove. No one likes a dishonest addict. Own your pleasure or leave.”
“Fine,” I say, pressing a soft, slow kiss over the head. “Until we end things at the Met Gala, then.”
“It’s your fantasy. I’m simply enjoying the scenery.” His gaze combs over me. “Now suck my cock like a good little slut and don’t ever make me ask twice again.”
“Yes, sir,” I whisper.
I trail a slow lick over him, playing and lapping until I wrap my lips around him.
But Lucifer grips the back of my head, shoving me down on his shaft far enough I almost choke, my eyes watering as he growls, “Drink deep.”
It’s half an hour later and my lips are still swollen from where I drank Lucifer clean.
I’m not sure whose desire we were really chasing this time, if I’m honest.
Maybe it was for us both.
I sit on his desk, watching where he stands by the window, a lit cigarette in his hand. Even with his tie loosened, the sleeves of his three-piece suit rolled up to his elbows to reveal his sculpted forearms, and his dark hair ruffled from where he tied me up with his belt and fucked me on top of his desk after, he looks like perfection. More delicious than anything I could ever imagine. Especially now that I’ve finished with him.
Only he and I know what’s changed between us.
How I please him. And him me.
And how the power that’s given me has ruined me for all others.
“Best be on your way now, Charlotte. You don’t want people talking.” He smirks.
“You did it, didn’t you?” I whisper, still watching him. “You killed Paris Starr.”
He chuckles at me, like he’s genuinely amused. “Quite a hefty accusation, considering how you just guzzled down my cum.”
I finally stand. “It’s not an accusation. Just a question.”
“One I’m not inclined to answer. Not without my lawyers present.”
“Why not?” I cross the room to stand at his side, pulling my dress on as I turn the open zipper toward him.
He brushes my hair from my nape slowly before he zips it for me.
“Even if I told anyone, it’s not as if they’d believe me.” I glance over my shoulder.
He stares down at me, amber eyes lighting. “I didn’t kill Paris Starr. I was with you only moments before. Remember?”
Another spark of pleasure thrums through me. At the memory of that first night.
Of how he tempted me. Even then.
His expression is calm, serious even. But I already know he’s particularly talented at lying. “There. Happy?” he asks. He turns away, but not before I think I see ... hurt in his eyes.
But I can’t allow it to deter me.
I face him. “How do I know you’re not lying?”
“You don’t.”
“That’s . . . comforting.”
“I’ve been up front with you from the beginning. Can you say the same?” His gaze combs over me, taking in my dress, my shoes, my now ruined hair. “What brought you into the office this afternoon?”
I pluck the cigarette from his hand, cool and collected, until I inhale and immediately start coughing. He lets out another low chuckle.
“Not my thing, I guess.”
I pass it back to him, and he brings it to his lips.
“I told you. I want to keep my job at Apollyon.”
He exhales. “I wasn’t aware your position included fellatio expert.” He grins, clearly joking with me, and there’s something oddly ... nice about being casual with him like this.
“You think I’m an expert at it?”
“Your technique could use a little work, but what you lack in experience, you make up for in enthusiasm.” He waves a hand. “Now what, exactly, did you come here for, Miss Bellefleur?”
“I was ... trying to find some answers, actually.”
He lifts a brow.
“About who sent the press release ...”
“Really?” He glances around us like he’s checking that we’re alone, like we’re sharing some dirty little secret. “I thought I was already looking at her.”
I glance down at my hands. “I know you won’t believe me, but I didn’t send it, Lucifer. Sure, I wrote it. When I was angry with you. So angry. But even after you pushed me away in the meeting, I never would have intentionally hurt you like that. I—”
He lifts a hand. “Don’t get sentimental now, Charlotte. It’s one of my least favorite traits in humanity.”
And just like that, whatever spell that seemed to soften him momentarily is gone.
I sigh. “I think it was an Apollyon employee. No one else would have had access to my computer. Or could have gotten past the building’s security.”
“An interesting theory.” He steps away. “One I’d be more inclined to entertain if I didn’t have other places to be.” He checks his watch.
“So ... you believe me? That I didn’t send it.”
He shrugs back into his suit coat, the one he stripped off while I had my mouth on him, before he straightens his now-loosened tie. “Do you have any reason to lie to me?”
“No, I . . . guess not.”
His eyes darken. “Good. Keep it that way.”
I cross my arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Lucifer looks toward me. “It means that if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay far, far away from this and Paris Starr’s murder. Trust me.”
It takes a moment for me to absorb what he’s said as he heads toward the elevator, but then ...
“Wait, are you saying that the press release and the investigation are somehow connected ?”
Lucifer grins at me. “I said no such thing.”
“But you suggested it.”
He adjusts his cuff links. “Humanity interprets my mere existence as a suggestion, but that hardly makes their accusations true. I would assume you’d know that by now.”
“And are they?” I ask as he steps onto the elevator. “Are they true, I mean?”
He grins deviously. “Would it matter to you if they weren’t?”
He smiles at me as he says it, but there’s ... something almost pained in his eyes that guts me. The elevator door closes a moment later, finally leaving me alone in his office.
Lucifer’s words play on repeat in my head long after he leaves.
Would it matter?
I’m ... not certain that it would.
But that doesn’t stop me.
I get to work quickly, combing through his unlocked laptop, every file I can find, any shred of a record that might help me locate what I came here for. When I’m finished, I sit at his desk, staring down at the city below me, a file with all the names and information of Apollyon’s employees now saved to my iCloud. It’s not remotely a smoking gun, but it’s a start.
I glance toward the elevator and my heart twinges painfully.
What if I was wrong? What if he isn’t the monster who trapped me?
What if he’s just as caught in this wicked game as I am?
I look toward the ashtray, where the last of his half-burned cigarette remains. I pluck it from the tray, tossing it onto the carpet and watching where a little hole burns before I stomp it out beneath my heel. Whoever did this needs to suffer.
To pay for what they did.
To both him and me.