Chapter 23
Lucian
"Lucian," Seraphina's angelic voice drops to that sweet-but-dangerous tone that makes my dick twitch.
"If you don't put down that phone, I will have to get creative with my heavenly persuasion.
" She bends down, her golden hair brushing my cheek while her honey-warm breath teases my ear.
I'm trying to text Alaric about our psychotic maker, but holy fuck—having a literal angel whispering in your ear is one hell of a distraction.
"Cupcake, if you're looking for some quality time with this walking disaster, all you gotta do is ask," I groan, already fighting a losing battle with my self-control.
I've been spamming every vampire contact on my phone like a teenager with an Instagram addiction, trying to get any intel about that Psycho Dick-Tator.
It's been quiet as fuck these past few weeks, and I know Lilith—that crazy cunt's got a few screws loose in her pretty little head.
When she's this quiet? It means she's plotting something that'll make Lucifer's ass clench.
With Team Thunder Buns, Mr. Stiff Upper Lip and our resident scientist are off playing tourists in Cloud City (and no, not the cool Star Wars one), I'm stuck here holding down the fort like some supernatural building manager.
Because, being the fun brother also means being the responsible one when everyone else decides to go dimension-hopping. Go figure.
"Just let me finish up with this, I know she's planning something, and I can't—"
Seraphina's lips find my neck, trailing soft kisses that make me groan with need.
The phone slips from my fingers, forgotten.
"I know. But you've been driving yourself insane since Lilith returned.
" Her breath whispers against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
"She's not getting in here, Lucian. We've taken every precaution—Emily and Sable's magic, Dani holding the deed.
.." Her tongue traces a sinful path along my throat, and my cock practically salutes. "It's time to unwind."
Christ on a cracker. A fucking meteor could be hurtling toward Earth, and I wouldn't give a single shit—not with my angel working her heavenly mojo to drag me back from the edge of this anxiety-fueled hellscape I've been trapped in.
I've been losing my mind since Lilith strutted back into our lives as some demonic fashion show reject.
Finding out my brothers went full supernatural genocide on the Hawthornes to keep Satan's Side Piece locked up?
That was one hell of a plot twist—killed an entire witch bloodline because they couldn't trust them to keep their magical mouth shut.
Fuck a lot of good that did—now we've got their pissed-off descendant playing tag team with our maker.
Seraphina rises like sin in silk, sliding those mile-long legs between my knees as I sprawl in my favorite chair. Her fingers toy with the belt of her robe, and Mother of Merc with a mouth—that glacial smirk promises heaven beneath that flimsy fabric. My mouth goes desert-dry.
Please let her be naked. For the love of all things holy, let there be nothing but angel under that silk.
Emily dragged Sable out for some "witch gone wild" dive bar and Damon's downstairs in Vamp Kindergarten class, probably angsting his way through a few blood bags.
So it's just me and my celestial snack cake, and she seems determined to make me forget my own name. Not that I'm complaining—I'll take any distraction from the shitstorm brewing outside these walls.
"Don't be a tease, Angel Face. Give me a peek at the goods." I shoot her my patented panty-melting wink and reach for her, but she twirls away like a ballerina, that silk robe staying firmly in place.
I collapse back into my chair, grinning like the lovesick fool I am. This heavenly minx is playing coy, and it's adorable as hell. She toys with the robe's edge, drawing out the suspense until I'm ready to beg. Then, with a flutter of silk, my world detonates.
Sweet merciful fuck.
I swear I hear a choir of R-rated angels singing Hallelujah.
"See something you like, Sparky?" she purrs, and hot damn if that voice doesn't go straight to my already straining zipper. The robe slides off one shoulder, giving me a peek show that would make a saint commit felonies.
She's rocking a white lace teddy that should be illegal.
The sheer fabric clings to every delicious curve like the gods themselves painted on it.
Intricate patterns swirl across her breasts, drawing the eye to where pebbled nipples strain against delicate lace.
The neckline plunges to her navel, held together by a single satin bow begging to be tugged loose.
The lingerie lovingly cups her ass, framing perfection in floral lace. A matching garter belt hugs her hips, clipped to sheer stockings that make her legs look like they were carved by Aphrodite herself.
My cock goes from interested to diamond-cutting hard so fast I nearly pass out. Seraphina smirks, fully aware of the effect she's having on me. She could ask me to recite the alphabet backwards, and all I'd manage is a caveman grunt.
"Holy shit..." I drag a hand down my face, brain cells committing mass suicide at the sight before me. "Like is the understatement of the fucking century, Cupcake." My hands itch to touch, to claim, to worship every inch of that heavenly body.
"You're trying to kill me, aren't you?" I groan, drinking in every lacy detail like a man dying of thirst. "This is revenge for that time I used your halo as a frisbee, isn't it?"
She laughs, the sound of pure sin wrapped in angel wings. "Maybe I just wanted to give my favorite disaster a surprise. I used that magical plastic rectangle again—I hoped you'd approve." Her smile makes my dick throb.
My credit card. She's talking about my damn credit card.
And approve? Christ, I want to build a fucking shrine to whatever genius designed this scrap of lace and temptation.
"Angel face, you've got 'til the count of 'I'm too fucking horny to count' to shimmy that delectable ass over here before I channel my inner caveman. And trust me, there will be grunting."
Her eyes dilate at my less-than-subtle threat, eclipsing honey-gold with 'fuck me' black. My kinky Cupcake gets off on this—the thrill of the chase, the promise of being caught and thoroughly debauched.
"Catch me if you can." She dances back with a smile.
"Oh, it's on like Donkey Kong, baby girl." I launch from the chair like a heat-seeking missile with a hard-on.
She bolts with a laugh that's purely erotic in surround sound, darting behind our couch like it's base in some X-rated game of tag.
"Playing hard to get? That's adorable. Like hiding behind furniture will save that sweet ass from what's coming." I stalk around the leather behemoth, channeling my inner predator—if predators had raging boners and zero chill.
"Maybe I'll just stay here all night," she teases, matching my movements with grace. "Safe behind my leather fortress."
"Newsflash, Cupcake—this isn't Fort Knox, and I'm about to stage a hostile takeover." I fake left, then vault over the couch like some sexually frustrated ninja. She squeals a sound that goes straight to my already aching cock.
The chase is on—like some twisted version of Cops but with more sexual tension and less tasering.
Though I'm not ruling that out for later.
My angelic cocktease is quick, but I'm the fucking Flash of fuck.
I snatch her around the waist, hauling her back against the rock-hard evidence of how much I want her.
"Gotcha, baby girl. Now, what am I going to do with you..." I nip her ear, grinding against that perfect ass. "I'm thinking something biblical. Really put the 'sin' in sinful."
She melts into me, her ass grinding back in a way that makes me moan. "Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something," she purrs, exposing the length of her throat like an all-you-can-eat buffet.
Holy hand grenades and hot sauce. This angel's gonna be the death of my dick, and I'm 169% on board.
"Mm, you're damn right I will." I drag my teeth along her racing pulse, savoring how her breath hitches. "But first things first..." I walk us back to the couch, spinning her around and plopping down so she's straddling my lap.
She settles against me with a little shimmy, her pretty pussy pressing into my painfully hard dick.
I fist my hand in her hair, tugging until she mewls.
"You're not playing fair, Cupcake," I growl against her lips, my free hand sliding under that delicate lace to grab a handful of angel cake.
"Strutting around in this 'make Lucian lose his mind' ensemble?
That's like waving a red cape at a very horny bull with excellent taste in lingerie. "
"Maybe I like playing dangerous games," she purrs, grinding down on my dick that makes my brain cells wave little white flags of surrender.
"Oh, we're way past games, Angel Face." I nip at her lower lip, enjoying her sharp intake of breath. "This is more like nuclear warfare, and baby? I've got my finger on the button."
Her laugh is pure temptation wrapped in honey. "Then what are you waiting for, Sparky? Launch the missiles."
"Fuuuck," I groan, my hand finding her hip as she rocks against me. "You're gonna make me spontaneously combust, you know that? They'll find me here, nothing but ash and a happy smile, with 'Worth It' carved into the coffee table."
"What a way to go though," rolling her hips, making my vision blur. "Death by angel—I'm sure that'll look interesting on your obituary."
"Fuck yeah, it will. 'Here lies Lucian—died doing what he loved: corrupting his angel and loving every damn second of it.
'" I grab two handfuls of her perfect ass like it's my own personal slice of heaven.
"Though if you keep moving like that, we might need to add 'died of extreme blue balls' to the epitaph. "