“What?” I coo on the end of a moan.
He strokes deep, pulls out almost to the tip, then rolls back into me.
“When you do that…uh,” he grounds out. “It feels…good. Don’t stop. Nobody ever touches me. Not like that. Keep…keep doing it. Touch me.”
I rake through the silken locks again, caressing him in such a gentle, almost chaste way as he thrusts into my wet womb. I expected a beast. A sex-crazed madman who breaks headboards and rips sheets to ribbons. This is so unlike what he showed me in that bathroom. So unlike the way he was with Kairo and that woman. He’s thoughtful, vulnerable. Almost as if he’s…making love to me.
Something twists in my chest, but the pain barely registers through the intense pleasure ripping through my body. It’s all I can focus on. All that matters in this moment. I know there’s something there, something I’m supposed to know. But when he digs so deep, so, so deep, then twists his hips, I can’t even remember my own name.
He quickens his pace and the hold on my ass tightens. His other hand hoists my leg up to rest on his shoulder. In this position, there’s no limit to the depth of his cock inside me. I can feel all of him, every last fucking inch, and oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.
“Talk to me, Eden,” he grits, his jaw clenched. “Talk to me. Tell me how good it feels to have me pulsing inside you.”
I reach up to touch his lips and he sucks a finger into his mouth.
“You make me feel…so…so…oh God…” I say, my voice quavering. “I want you. Deeper. Harder. Faster. Make me yours, Lucifer. Stain me with your sin.”
He digs in deeper, harder, faster, just as I begged. His eyes close as if my words are a drug and I’m giving him the fix his body craves. I can be that for him. I can be whatever he needs me to be. Because when I look up at him, haunted by the orgasm that creeps up his spine, there is nothing on Earth that matters more.
Another pang in my chest and I gasp. I felt it this time, stirring with an unknown emotion. Lucifer reads it as pleasure and quickens his strokes.
“I need you.” The torment on his face nearly slows my own movements, but it feels too good to stop now. “I need you so bad, Eden.”
He lifts me to straddle him, putting us face to face. I wrap my arms around his neck to steady myself as he punishes me thoroughly. I meet every stroke, every roll of his hips into my womb and squeeze, needing him deeper still. I can feel him swell, a prelude to the orgasm that will shake the heavens and scorch the world with hellfire. I want it. I want all of him, every evil seed to sear my insides with his name. I need him to make me his.
I’m so close that the intensity of my orgasm begins to siphon what’s left of my strength. I open my mouth to cry his name, but he swallows it, stoking my agony with his tongue. Then he fucks me mercilessly, spearing me on his dick as he chases his own climax. He fucks me like he hates me, like he loves me, like this is our last day on Earth.
Inhale. Exhale.
And then I shatter into a million tiny flecks of glittering bliss.
His arms banded around my back, hands grasping my shoulders, he comes inside me, and in that splendid space of solace, the world falls away. We’re coasting along a sea of sparkling stars, encompassed in swirls of purple and obsidian and teal. There’s no air up here, just him filling my lungs, pumping through my veins, and beating in my chest. He and I are the only ones in this universe, living solely for each other and for this very moment.
There is no explanation for what this is. There is no rhyme or reason to justify what we’re doing. With madness slick between my thighs and chaos still quivering through his cock, we aren’t just a cautionary tale. We are legend.
He lays me gently on the bed, taking extra care with my sagging frame. I expect him to lie beside me, but instead, he places his head on my stomach, his ear to my belly button as if he’s…listening?
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice hoarse and sleepy.
“Please? Just for a little bit.”
I know what he’s asking, and it’s absolutely the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.
Lucifer covers our legs with the comforter while I play with his hair. It’s silent, save for the raucous sounds of bar patrons outside our window. I hadn’t even noticed the noise. I wasn’t exactly quiet with him, and surprisingly, he wasn’t quiet either. I decide I like that. I like knowing that I brought him such immense pleasure. He didn’t hold back. He didn’t go to that place of coldness and detachment. He showed me his face—his true face—and what I saw was beautiful.
“This is the first time.”
My hand stills in his hair. “Huh?”
“That we were together. This was our first time. Before…in the bathroom at Irin’s house, it was an illusion.”
I resume my soft strokes, a content smile on my face. “It felt real.”
“I know. I can make you feel whatever I want…manipulate your thoughts, your memories.”
“Is that what you did tonight? Just now?”
He turns around, his head still resting on my abdomen. His face is flush and his eyes are glazed with exhaustion. He looks relaxed, relieved. As if it took great effort to keep up the façade this entire time.
“No. That was…that was me.” He reaches up to grab my hand still playing in his hair and kisses my palm. “All of me.”
“No tricks?”
“Not with you. I don’t need them.”
“You’re certainly sure of yourself.”
He laughs and I feel it in my womb. “Shouldn’t I be?”
Smiling, I resume twirling wayward locks of hair around my fingers. “Yes. You should.”
“I would never alter your mind or your emotions like that. Not anymore.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I’ll consider the same,” I joke.
He closes his sleepy eyes and sighs. “I want more. I want so much more of you…so much more with you. But we’re running out of time.”
I glance towards the window. It’s still dark out, but I assume that dawn will be coming soon.
“We have all the time in the world.”
He smiles, but I can tell there’s a touch of sadness to it, even with those radiant irises concealed. “It makes me happy that you think so.” Then he kisses my bare belly.
I stare at his peaceful, beautiful face, captivated by his etherealness. I never dreamed we could be like this. I didn’t even fathom that I had hoped for it. But now that we’re here, I don’t know how I could ever want anything else for the rest of my days.
After a few moments, his breaths grow heavy and long, and I realize that Lucifer has fallen asleep. He sleeps. I remember he told me that he never did, as if the act was physically impossible for him. But here he is, sleeping soundly against my stomach.
I reach over to pull the comforter over him a bit more, careful to not disturb him. And then I close my own eyes, the heaviness of multiple orgasms crashing down on my eyelids.
But before I drift to sleep, a nagging feeling pulls at my gut.
I’m supposed to remember.
Something.
Someone.
I’m supposed to remember.
I hear music.
It’s faint, making me believe it’s coming from outside. That’s the beauty of New Orleans. There’s always music, even in the middle of the night.
But when my heavy eyelids slowly open, I find that it’s daylight. And the clock on the nightstand flashes 9:06.
However, that’s not what causes me to sit straight up like my pillow is on fire. It’s the fact that this isn’t my pillow at all. This isn’t my bed. And I’m naked.
I’m in Lucifer’s room.
I am butt ass naked in Lucifer’s fucking bed.
“Shit!” I bite out, my now wide eyes taking in the strewn clothing littered on the floor. My panties. My fucking panties. Oh my God…oh my GOD. What happened? How did I get here?
I take inventory of my body and find that there are no defensive marks or wounds. Half of me is rel
ieved that he didn’t force himself on me, but the other half…I can’t even deal with the alternative scenario.
I came in here willingly.
I took off my clothes willingly.
I got into his bed and most likely fucked him willingly.
There’s got to be an explanation for this, something perfectly logical that will be cleared up as soon as I see him.
But I know. I know.
My insides are sore, but that good kind of sore after sex. The kind of sore that makes you want to squeeze your thighs together and contract your inner muscles just to feel the phantom of fullness. My lips are swollen and my nipples are still pebbled from being sucked.
How?
This doesn’t make any sense.
“Think, Eden. Think,” I say aloud.
I run it all back in my mind, although the details are foggy, as if I’m conjuring my memories through a crystal ball. I remember getting dressed, getting my hair and makeup done. Then we were driving somewhere, yet I can’t remember the direction or the destination, like it was cloaked in shadow. It’s all blank from there. However, there are things… A caress along my cheek. My fingers running through strands of silk. A jolt of pain in my chest.
I can’t see the memories, but I can feel them. They last only a second, and then they’re gone, as though maybe they don’t belong to me at all.
Footsteps approach and I hurriedly cover my naked frame. I’m obviously unarmed and I can’t be sure of who or what will find me.
The door opens and Lucifer enters holding a tray of food. My stomach flips, but it’s not from hunger.
“I thought you might be starving.” He sets the tray beside me on the bed.
His smile is dazzling, his clothes crisp yet the jeans and black t-shirt are much more casual than what he usually opts for. Even his hair looks different, as if he didn’t even bother with styling it. He looks…happy. Buoyant. Normal.
I pinch myself. Hard.
“Shit!” I curse, rubbing my skin where an angry red welt is already forming.
Ok, not a dream. Then maybe I’ve been vacuumed into some weird parallel universe where this is not really Lucifer, and I’m not a Nephilim demon hunter.
“Who are you?” I ask, unable to take my eyes off this weird version of Hell’s landlord.
“Uh, Lucifer,” he replies, eyeing me suspiciously.
“And who am I?”
“Eden, are you—”
“Shit!” So I am Eden. “Are you still…you know…the Devil?”
There are shadows in his gaze, and the beaming smile he just donned is gone. Ok, maybe we have the same names in this universe and—
“Yes. I am. You know that.”
Fuck.
I’m out of explanations, which only leaves me with the obvious scenario.
“I’m naked. In your bed. I’m naked in your bed. What the fuck happened?”
Right before my eyes, his expression goes cold and impassive, and the light is shuttered from his stare.
“What do you think happened?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember. But…oh my God. Did we…did we do it last night?”
Lucifer huffs out an aggravated breath. “Did we do it? You mean, did we fuck?”
“Yes.” I can barely choke out the words. “Did you…fuck me?”
Lucifer shrugs. “I fucked you, you fucked me, we fucked each other, yadda, yadda, yadda. Yeah, we fucked.”
I cover my face with my hands, fighting back confused, frustrated tears. Why can’t I remember?
“I can’t believe…oh God. I can’t believe what I’ve done. And with you. You, of all people. How fucking stupid can I be? How? How did this happen?”
“Well, first you ripped my pants off and started sucking me off like I was a popsicle on the fourth of July. Then I licked your pussy until you came in my mouth. Twice. And then I fucked your tight little hole until you were almost sobbing.”
I shake my head furiously. “Stop. I don’t want the details. Just tell me how.”
But he ignores my request and continues to recite each dirty detail. “I’ll admit—you can suck a mean dick. And you taste good as fuck too. Not much of a screamer, but my cock twitches just thinking about how you moaned and begged for me. My only regret is not fucking you in the ass. You have a marvelous ass, by the way. I think you would have enjoyed it.”
“Will you stop?!” I shriek. “Tell me how I got here. Did you drug me? Cast some type of evil spell on me? This isn’t fucking funny, Lucifer. You know there’s no way I would’ve slept with you.”
“You want the truth?” He raises a brow.
“Yes.”
“Ok. We went to a party hosted by a Dark One. You drank a lot of champagne that was laced with an enchantment from Aurora who is an Orexis. The Orexis deal in desire magic. I told you to stop, and you wouldn’t. Then you let complete strangers feel you up and I had to stop you from having a threesome in public. After that, you kissed me and begged me to fuck you.”
Releasing a whine of defeat, I let my head fall back to the headboard. As outlandish as it sounds, what other explanation could there be? And Orexis magic—whatever the hell that is—isn’t the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.
“So I was drugged. Or spelled or whatever. And this desire magic…it made it so we couldn’t control ourselves, right? Like we couldn’t stop what we were doing even if we tried?”
I’m trying to make sense of this. I need to make sense of this.
Lucifer rolls his eyes. “Sure.”
I shake my head once more. “We can’t…we can’t tell anyone. It’s bad enough that it happened, but if it got out… If the Se7en or—oh hell—if Legion found out, they wouldn’t understand. Even though we were spelled, they’d all hate me more than they already do, and I’m having enough trouble living with what I did. I can’t bear their disappointment too.”
Lucifer snorts a laugh. “No problem. It’s not a big deal anyway. Not like I was going to record every salacious detail in my diary.”
He picks up the tray of food and turns towards the door.
“Oh, and if you could remove yourself from my bed, that’d be great. I’d like to change my sheets.”
The bedroom door slams behind him on a mystical gust of wind. Seconds later there’s a deafening crack and the sound of glass shattering and silverware clanging.
My knees are weak when I stand, and it takes considerable effort to get my panties on. I have no idea where my dress is, so I grab the terry cloth robe hanging up in his bathroom. When I open the door to cross the living room, I find that Lucifer is gone. The tray has been snapped in half, the plates broken and food and debris are splattered on the wall. My bare toes brush a pile of black fabric that I realize is my dress, so I pick it up and quickly escape to my room. I have no idea when Lucifer will be back, and I don’t want to be anywhere near him when he returns. I’ve been humiliated enough for one day.
I’m so out of sorts that I climb into bed still wearing my borrowed bathrobe and last night’s panties. Just to busy my mind, I pick up the remote and resort to flipping through the channels of the TV mounted on my bedroom wall. I don’t want to think about what I’ve done because if I really concentrate on those fractured memories, the guilt would be palpable enough to strangle me.
I had sex with the Devil.
And according to him, I liked it.
It’s not only that I betrayed Legion when he needs me the most. I went against any moral fiber I had and willingly spread my thighs for Satan. What does that say about me? I mean, I know I’m not the picture of virtue, but Lucifer? The ruler of all evil? Who does that?
Maybe it’s residual Dark magic or staying up all night doing God only knows what, but I’m exhausted. My limbs are sore, and there’s a radiating ache between my legs that could probably use a dose of Advil. After blankly staring at the Food Network, I succumb to sleep. And sleep welcomes a dream…
It’s too bright here.
Fluorescent
lights, white walls, and nothing else. I look down and see that I’m dressed in the same color. There’s so much of it that it hurts my eyes, and even though I blink against it, the very essence of its harshness is burned into my eyelids. I try to shield my retinas with my hand but find that my arms are restrained, as well as my legs. Another tug yet the leather straps don’t give an inch. I’m strapped to a bed that’s more like a table. It’s hard and unforgiving on my back. I struggle against them using all my might, but it’s no use.
I’m dreaming. I know that, but this time is different. I’m not just a spectator anymore, searching for breadcrumbs. I’m in it. And I can’t get out.
There’s an oddly strong scent that stings my nose, like bleach and chemicals.
The sterile white walls and bright lights. The noxious scent of severe cleaning agents. The hard table and straps.
Hospital. I’m in a hospital.
I hear hysterical screaming in the distance, the blood-curdling kind that speaks of unimaginable horror, fear, and agony. I feel it. The sound shoots right into me, right down to my bones. What pain it must be born from. How can anyone bear so much misery?
A gurgling sound and then it stops, cut silent as if the person has passed out. Or worse. I know it’s worse.
I should be relieved. Whoever that was has been freed from their suffering. But when the screaming resumes, the dread rattles my insides again. Because this isn’t the same voice. Now it’s someone else’s turn to be tortured.
Once again, the wailing is strangled from the victim’s throat. But I know it’s not over. I know that in just a few minutes, it will start again. And that scream will sound closer. And the ones after that will be even nearer than the last. Until it’s right in the next room.
Until it’s me who’s screaming.
Five. I count five separate cries, each growing in intensity. Coming towards me. Chasing me.
I have to get out of here. I bite down on my fear and try to focus all my mental energy beyond this small, white room. Maybe if I can tap into the mind of the one inflicting all this pain, I can will them to stop. I can force them to turn their methods of torture on themselves and put an end to all this.
Fallen Reign (Se7en Sinners Book 4) Page 12