59. Angélique
59
Angélique
W hen I wake up, Elhyor is already awake, his fingers tracing shapes against my back as if I’m his personal canvas.
It’s early in the morning, I can see it through his window, or maybe the lack of light means a storm is coming. We’re used to it. Paris isn’t the sunniest city in Europe, but it dampens my mood.
For a second, I felt cocooned against Elhyor, but now everything comes back, and I can’t stay in bed doing nothing while there’s a countdown on my best friend’s brain.
I might already know that I can’t kill Elhyor.
What I did last night, and the number of orgasms the man gave me, would make me a traitor in the eyes of the archangels, but I don’t regret it.
I might regret it a bit later, but for a whole lot of different reasons. Namely, how my body is already feeling sore because of what we did last night.
I sit in the bed, letting his hand drop away from my back as I move away from his embrace.
“We have work to do,” I say, infusing as much steel into my voice as I can. I can’t let him drag me back to being in his arms. The comfort of it could turn into an addiction, and I’ve got too much to do to let myself feel safe with him.
We aren’t safe. None of us is for as long as my father rules over the archangels.
“We do,” Elhyor says, but he doesn’t move from where he lies on the bed, the covers bunched at his hips and the whole expanse of his tattoos displayed for me to see. He has hooded eyes, and my nipples peak at the way his gaze unabashedly roams over my naked form.
I have never been shy with my body. When you spend more time training than doing anything else, you always keep some pride about the way you hone your body, but the way Elhyor looks at me is different. It makes me feel different. I’m not just an assassin or a pawn in my father’s games. When Elhyor looks at me, I feel like a queen. I feel like I can own the world. I feel like I can change it.
It’s all I want and yet, nothing will happen if we stay in that bed.
“We should go,” I say, as my breathing becomes shallow and my body burns with need for the man who so nonchalantly lies in bed next to me.
“We should,” Elhyor answers, a small smirk appearing on his lips as he looks at me. I moved the cover when I sat, and I realize he now has an unobstructed view of my pussy with me sitting on the side and my legs folded under me.
His arms circle me, and each hand comes to grab my buttcheeks.
“We should,” Elhyor repeats, “but I’d like my breakfast first, Little Devil.”
He doesn’t let me process what he has just said before hoisting me by my ass and dropping me right on top of his face.
“Come here, Little Devil, and ride your husband’s face like a good wife.”
His words echo the ones he said last night, and this time there is no adaptation time needed, or no need to go slow, so I grab the headboard and let Elhyor ravage my pussy like he can’t get enough of it.
I try to stay still at first, letting him do all the work as he plunges his tongue inside of me and then sucks my clit. And then starts again.
But at some point, I can’t. I start to rub myself over his face, and when Elhyor groans, I feel it vibrate inside of my pussy.
Oh, god, that feels so good.
I rub myself in earnest, and it seems to make Elhyor even more enthusiastic, making him groan more and more, which in return vibrates through me and detonates an orgasm in no time.
I hold on to the headboard with all the strength I have left as Elhyor keeps lapping at my pussy as if my cum were the sweetest nectar.
At some point, I raise myself on my knees and look at him from above. A proud smirk is grazing his lips, and I can see a knowing glint in his eyes.
“No. Nope. Not another one,” I say as I scramble out from his grasp. Once I’m standing, I realize that my legs can’t really keep me up, so I cock my hip against Elhyor’s desk and try to breathe normally again.
”You wicked man,” I say, half panting, half laughing. “You can’t have a second breakfast; we’re not hobbits.”
“We are not,” Elhyor confirms as he gets up from the bed. He’s bare, in all his glory, and very, very hard. I can’t decide what I want to look at more. The carnal need I can see on his face or the glorious length of him that makes me wet my lips at the sight.
“You really are a little devil,” Elhyor says as he eyes my lips.
We have things to do, but I want to suck his cock. Sue me.
“As much as I want to paint those gorgeous lips with my cum, we don’t have time now,” he adds as he traces my bottom lips with his thumb.
I look down, and of course, his other hand is pumping hard and fast.
“Shower. Now,” Elhyor says as he finally bursts in his hand, half of his cum spraying my belly.
Yes, no shit, I need a shower now.
Instead, my eyes trail to what is on Elhyor’s desk. It was already there in the evening, but I didn’t pay it much attention, my lust-addled brain not letting me focus on anything else than getting in bed with Elhyor.
But now I’m satiated, awake and ready to take on the world, and I can’t help looking.
“What is this?” I ask Elhyor.
It’s some kind of map, and the layout is familiar, but a few things don’t add up, so I’m not completely sure.
“It’s a map of Versailles palace. A very outdated map,” he answers me, and I hear in his voice that he’s cautious with his words. “It comes from the archives, but it was printed before Aléa even collapsed on earth, so I don’t know how accurate it is.”
“Not very accurate,” I confirm to him, and that seems to relax him. “What?” I look at him with all the sass I can find in myself. “I’m covered with your cum, and it’s only now that you hold your breath?” I add with a chuckle.
“You’re weird,” I mutter to myself, but then something lights up in my mind. “Why do you need Versailles’ blueprints?”
“If we want to stop your father, we need to know where we’re going,” Elhyor says in a gruff voice.
“And why do you want to stop my father? Give me a good reason.” I demand, with doubt in my voice. I want to stop him. I do. But I also need to know if Elhyor is going to destroy the order that has been put in place, and leave chaos, or if he has a plan. I need to know how he plans to stop my father and what will happen after.
“Do I need only one reason?” Elhyor asks me. “I can see a full list of reasons. One, he’s turning that dynasty of archangels into some kind of tyranny. Two, he’s oppressive to other kinds, like humans. Three, he turned your friend into a time bomb.” He presses his hand to my cheek and makes me look him in the eyes. “And last, but not least, he did this to you,” he adds as his other hand trails the length of my scarred back. “He needs to pay for this and for everything else he has been doing to you until now.”
I’m not going to cry. I. Am. Not. Because somehow, Elhyor made it about me more than about anything else and I’m not used to being the reason people do things. I’m the one who people—well, my father—used to do things they didn’t want to do. Namely, to kill a dragon, when no one knows how to do that.
Scratch that. I do know how to do that now.
But I don’t plan to use that knowledge and won’t be sharing the information with anyone, either. I can do something better.
I can help Elhyor in his quest to destroy my father.