Chapter 35
Chapter thirty-five
Delilah
My heart was thrashing in my chest, but worse than that was the steady pulse beating between my legs.
Archer was going to touch me. He was going to make me come, and the horrible demon, Astaroth, was going to watch.
Under my scratchy dress, my nipples pebbled, my body so turned on by the entire situation that I could scarcely breathe.
What was wrong with me? I should have been horrified by the entire situation, and instead I was practically panting for it.
Watching Archer make a deal with the Duke of Hell, a cruel and powerful man who ruled over a kingdom of tortured souls, caused a fresh wave of desire to stir within me.
He was so resolute, so much in control of himself, I wondered what it would take to see him break.
To see that mask of ordered detachment crack for something other than his rage.
And I wondered if I could be the one to make it happen.
Now that the deal was done, Archer turned, his heated gaze leveled on me, and I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning.
He was so sexy, his demonic form not detracting from his physical appeal to me in any way. Archer had always been big, muscular and strong, but in his true form, he was hulking, his size not the least bit intimidating and wholly enticing.
I stared at him, the way his shirt and pants hung, torn and ruined, from his frame, the black, leathery wings rising and falling with each of his breaths, and I knew that there was nothing I wanted more than to have that demon put his hands on me.
To feel him against me, surrounding me and keeping me.
Making me his.
Blinking furiously, I tried to shake off the wayward thoughts that I had no business entertaining. What we were about to do was transactional, a payment for services rendered. The incubus wanted an orgasm and I was going to give him one.
As simple as that.
Archer took me in, his burning black gaze dragging up my body and leaving goosebumps in its wake. For a while, I wasn’t sure he’d go through with it. Demon deal or not, he seemed reluctant, no matter how restlessly his tail twitched on the floor behind him.
Just the thought of that tail and the things he might have been able to do with it had me shifting on my feet, my thighs rubbing back and forth in an effort to quell the fire burning between my legs.
Archer inhaled, a low growl in the back of his throat, and I felt a blush rising up my cheeks. Did he know? Could he tell how turned on I was?
I stared up at him, watching as he prowled across the room toward me, his body moving with an animalistic grace that had my whole body clenching in anticipation, but it was when he licked his lips, showing off the forked tongue that hid behind his fanged teeth, that I couldn’t help the quiet moan that escaped me.
“Oh, my,” Astaroth murmured breathily. “You’re a desperate little slut, aren’t you?” Grabbing himself roughly, the Duke let out a low groan. “He hasn’t even touched you yet, and you’re already so fucking close.”
I wanted to snap at him, to swear that he was wrong, but that would have been a lie.
Because I was closer than I’d ever want to admit.
After snarling a wordless warning at Astaroth, Archer dragged out a chair from the dining table—which had thankfully been cleared of its horrific dinner offerings—and pulled it into the middle of the room, facing Astaroth on his ridiculous throne.
Settling himself down on the seat, Archer spread his legs wide before holding one hand out to me.
“Come, witch.”
“Not yet, she’s not,” Astaroth chuckled, his own hand sliding inside his pants as he continued to stroke himself.
Archer ignored him, instead holding my gaze as he waited for me to take his hand.
As I looked at him, his dark eyes holding so much burning intensity, I knew that there would be no going back from this moment.
Drawing in a shaky breath, I stepped forward and placed my hand in his.
The contact immediately created a buzz of sensation that started in my fingers and quickly traveled up my arm and through my whole body, dancing along my limbs like fireflies in the dark.
I couldn’t tell if Archer felt the same, because as soon as he had my hand, he tugged, pulling my body between his spread thighs and caging me there.
Even sitting, he was still tall, his eyes level with mine as he stared at me.
I could see myself reflected in the glassy surface of his black gaze, my mouth open and my cheeks stained with a blush that I could feel, the heat of my lust burning through me like wildfire.
The collar, that ever-present entity I’d actually come to like, hummed in anticipation.
“Archer,” I breathed, not sure what I was asking for, but knowing down to my bones that he would give it to me.
A low purr rattled out of him, the sound vibrating between us, comforting me and seeming to calm my racing heart.
“I’ve got you, witch,” he said, his voice low. “Trust me.”
That was the crux of it, wasn’t it? It was exactly what Phips had told me to do in his letter. Trust a demon.
At first, it had seemed impossible; his kind and mine had been enemies for hundreds of hears.
But the more time I spent with Archer—with all the guys, really—the more I realized that those prejudices were mostly smoke and mirrors.
There were no lines drawn between us by faction alone.
There were good and bad members from both camps, as our run-in with Helena and her filthy, traitorous coven just proved.
Archer had shown me time and again who he was. It was time that I believed him.
Standing there, my body thrumming with pent-up energy as Archer held my very soul in his hands, I realized that trusting him was the easiest thing I had ever done.
“Yes,” I agreed simply, feeling my whole body relax into his hold as his strong arms curled around me and pulled me toward him, the heat of his body like a furnace as he pressed his face into the crook of my neck, breathing me in.
Lifting my arms, I wrapped them around his neck, tilting my head back to grant him access as he kissed and suckled along the tender skin under my jaw.
At my throat, the shadow collar pulsed, the sensation soothing, encouraging even, as Archer’s lips ghosted over the place where it rested.
“Not chasing me away this time?” he murmured, and I wondered if he was talking to me or the collar. Either way, I couldn’t answer him, as in the next moment, he swept me up, spinning me around and planting me on his lap, my legs spread lewdly over his.
“I can smell your desire, witch,” he purred, his chest rumbling against my back as one hand wrapped around my throat from behind. “I wonder what I’ll find under this dress.”
Starting at my knee, Archer trailed one clawed finger up my inner thigh, gathering the hem of the dress with him as he went.
Across from us, Astaroth leaned forward in his seat, his brows drawn down low and his hand stroking his cock furiously as he tried to get a look at every inch of my flesh that Archer revealed.
When he reached the apex of my thighs, Archer’s low purr turned into a rumbling groan as he discovered that while Persephone had been gracious enough to lend me a dress, she hadn’t been as generous with undergarments.
“Fucking bare,” he growled, his thick finger sliding up and down my slit.
“Show me!” Astaroth demanded, his view of my body blocked by the fabric of my dress and Archer’s large hand. “Let me see how she drips for you.”
“You’ll shut your fucking mouth and take what I give you, Duke.” With those words, Archer spread his legs even wider, taking mine with him as he did. His hand on my throat gave a firm squeeze before moving lower, cupping my breast through the dress, causing me to let out another appreciative moan.
My mind was spinning, so many sensations overwhelming my senses that I could hardly focus on any of them.
Closing my eyes, I tried to float away, riding on the river of feeling that was carrying me away.
I felt like my chest was expanding, filling with heat as Archer continued to stroke my pussy with his blunt-tipped claws.
“No!” he suddenly spat, his fingers delivering a sharp pinch to the nipple he had been playing with. Bringing his hand back up to my throat, he cupped my jaw in his large palm and tipped my head back so that I was gazing up at him. “Eyes on me. Only me. I want to see every single second of this.”
With those words, he dipped one finger carefully inside me, hissing as his broad digit penetrated me slowly.
“Slippery little witch,” he rumbled, and my inner muscles clenched around his finger at the dirty words. Words he’d thrown at me in insult several times, but when he uttered them now, they felt like praise. “So wet for me. So ready.”
“Yes,” was all I could say, but my hips began to churn, chasing his finger as he pulled it back and then slid it in again.
Over and over, he repeated the motion, moving deeper with every thrust, and beneath me, I could feel his cock hardening against my ass, the massive ridge it created in his torn pants making me both desperate and intimidated.
“Fuck her harder, Archer,” Astaroth commanded, the words rough. “Let me hear how wet she is.” He was panting, the words barely audible through his low, hungry growl. “Make her scream.”
“I won’t tell you again, Astaroth. Shut your fucking mouth or I’ll shut it for you,” Archer spat, but he also sped up his hand, adding a second finger as he moved them in and out of me at a faster pace, the stretch burning in the best of ways.
My head was cradled against his shoulder, my body writhing on his lap as I ground against his hard cock, the ache inside me calling for more even as his fingers had me hurtling toward an orgasm.
The fire burning in my chest continued to rage, and I knew that whatever it was, I wasn’t going to be able to contain it for much longer.
“Fuck.” Archer groaned, his lips pressed to my throat.
He kissed me there, then I felt his tongue dart out, the forked end dancing over my pulse where it beat in my neck.
“Look at you. So beautiful. Ready to come for me. You belong to me, witch. Your pleasure, your fire, your very soul.” His words rolled over me, and I found myself nodding, ready to agree to whatever he wanted as long as he’d let me come.
“You belong to me, Delilah. Don’t you?” I moaned, and he snarled, his fingers curling inside me deliciously. “You’re mine! Tell me you agree?”
“Yes!” I cried. “Yes, I’m yours.”
Archer snarled, my acceptance of his ownership fueling him, and he sank his teeth into the flesh where my neck met my shoulder, just below the shadow collar—which had gone suspiciously still—marking me in a way that was somehow both brutal and tender at the same time.
I screamed, the pain sparking something deep inside me, even as my blood began to leave a hot trail down my skin.
Suddenly, Archer was there, the carnal lick of his forked tongue making me gasp as he dragged it across the bite, lapping up my blood, finishing with what I was almost certain was a soft, reverent kiss against his mark.
Finally, I came, the orgasm cresting through me like a tidal wave.
My eyes slammed closed against a burst of bright white light and I screamed Archer’s name, wave after wave of pleasure rolling through me.
At the same time, the burning in my chest exploded, a searing pain slicking through the hazy euphoria of my orgasm, the combination somehow enhancing and increasing the ecstasy as my body clamped down on Archer’s fingers, even as he continued to pump them slowly inside me, shallower with each stroke until he finally pulled out completely, leaving me feeling hollow.
When I finally roused, blinking blearily around the room as I tried to catch my breath, the first thing I noticed was the shocking quiet. When I tried to move, Archer stopped me, righting my dress and moving me carefully behind him, like he was trying to protect me from something.
It was then that I noticed Astaroth, standing before his chair, pants undone, glaring at me with abject hatred.
“You!” he hissed, pointing his finger at me in rage. “What the fuck did you do?”