“I mean, unless you try to take a bite out of it, I can’t imagine you could do it wrong.”
“But I want it to be good for you.” He’d certainly made me feel amazing.
He pulled back, rising up on his knees, and I watched in fascination as he undid the button and zipper of his pants. His cock sprang free, thick and swollen with need where it hung heavily between us.
I swallowed hard, caught between my desire and fear.
“You don’t have to do anything,” Joriel reminded me.
“I want to.” I leaned forward and placed a kiss to the tip, swiping my tongue over the bead of moisture pooled at his slit, and was rewarded by Joriel’s hiss. I bit back a grin. There was something deliciously satisfying about knowing how much I affected him. I closed my lips over the head and gave it a tentative suck.
“Oh fuck. Laila.”
Moving down his shaft, I took as much of him as I could while he cursed and clenched his hands in my hair. I could tell he was holding back. The way he was keeping himself perfectly still couldn’t be natural.
I pulled back, releasing him with a pop. “What’s wrong?”
“Absolutely nothing is wrong,” he said, his voice strained.
“It’s like I’m kissing a statue,” I said pointedly.
“I’m hanging on to my control by a damn thread, sweetness.”
“So let go.”
“That’s not a good idea. You’ve seen what happens when I lose control.”
I wrapped a hand around his base, grinning when he sucked in a sharp breath. “Your monster doesn’t scare me. I don’t believe you’ll hurt me.”
“Ihavehurt you,” he gritted out.
“Trust me.” I stroked him before taking him into my mouth again.
I felt the moment Joriel’s control snapped. His hand tightened on my hair, holding me in place as his hips thrust, pushing himself deeper. I gagged and felt him tense, but when I dug my fingers into his ass, urging him to keep going, he obeyed, his thrusts becoming more frantic.
“Fuck, you feel too good. I’m going to come.” His hand released my hair, and he started to pull back but I held on tighter, refusing to let him go. Salty liquid hit the back of my throat as he poured into me, my name sounding like both a prayer and plea on his lips.
Pulling back, he gathered me in his arms and buried his face in my neck.
We sat tangled together while I stroked his hair for what might have been hours. Blue and white paint was smeared over both of us, but neither of us was in any rush to get up or clean off. There was something profoundly intimate about this moment, and I was afraid of breaking the spell.
TWENTY-TWO
Joriel
The monsterinside me had fallen silent. It was the first time since I’d lost my soul and been chained in the prison realm that I couldn’t feel it beating against my control. The darkness had receded like a beast recognizing its queen and bowing to her will. Laila had commanded it, and it had listened, slinking back into the shadows.
“You’re not even trying.” Roth’s voice broke me out of my thoughts. His hand slipped past my defenses, hitting me in the ribs.
I grunted. We were supposed to be training for Sathanas’s tournament in two weeks. Laila was still in her art studio, pouring her talent onto canvases. Her charms had worked beautifully on Abadon, giving us a clear path into Lucifer’s palace. I just had to win Sathanas’s tournament without dying.
“I’m fine,” I muttered, blocking Roth’s next jab and countering.
“Fine is going to get you killed in two weeks, and I really don’t want to deal with a mourning and angry Laila.”
“Dick,” I muttered.
Roth grinned. “If you think the demons you’ll be fighting will be any better, you’re delusional.”
