Edge of Heaven

by Rhiannon Leith

Sam lifted her, his hands digging into his upper arms. She struggled to balance on the very tips of her toes, her heart beating faster than she thought possible.

  “Without the safe words,” he snarled. “This is no joke, Lily. As far as anyone else is going to be concerned, you are mine, body and soul. If they think for a moment that you’re a free mortal walking their highways, they’ll take you from me. And I won’t be able to stop them. Understand? It’s bad enough that by doing this we’ll risk unbalancing all creation. If they take you, they’ll keep you and break all realities apart, but that’s nothing to what they’ll make you endure. If you’re so set on doing this, Lily, you’ll do everything I say. Now tell me you understand.”

  Somewhere, she found her voice. It sounded very small. “I understand, Sam.”

  “Call me Master.”

  Something inside her shrank back at the malice in his tone. Something else, something she remembered from that night in his apartment, unfurled, dark and sensuous. Lily lifted her chin and gazed deeply into his endless eyes. So this was what he wanted, was it? Or what he needed perhaps? Well, so be it. For Micah—and for Sam—she could do it.

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Lower your gaze,” he growled.

  She dropped her eyes, hooding them with her long eyelashes. It brought his broad chest into full view and another surge of that warmth she recognised as lust swept through her.

  “You need to learn your place. Here, now. Before any other demon lays eyes on you and knows you for what you are. There will be no second chances, Lily.” He lowered her from her tiptoes, his hands running roughly down her arms, making her body quake with unexpected need. His breath rippled across the skin of her chest and neck. “They won’t listen to pleas, or reason, or to anything you can say. And there isn’t much you can say with half a foot of dick down your throat. They like to hear you scream. So from this moment on, you’re mine.”

  “Your slave,” she said. His eyes flashed, a hint of red danger in their depths. “Master,” she added quickly.

  “Better,” he admitted, grudgingly. “Drop your towel.” She shook it free. If areas of her skin were scrubbed raw, he passed no comment, merely looked her over like he was inspecting merchandise. “Up against the wall,” he said and turned away.

  Lily backed up until she felt the cool touch of her magnolia-painted bedroom walls against her shoulder blades and buttocks. She clasped her hands in front of her, knotting her fingers together as she watched him bend over the clothing on the bed. She couldn’t tell what he picked up, something small which he held in one fist as he approached her, looking so out of place that it would have been laughable. If it wasn’t for his glare. If it wasn’t for the way her treacherous body was reacting.

  Micah, this is for Micah, she tried to tell herself. But she knew she was lying. This was for Sam. This was for herself. Her stomach muscles tightened and her cunt grew wet and ready.

  The world slowed, focused on each moment, each sensation.

  “Lower your eyes,” Sam said again, his mouth a hard line, and she obeyed, gazing at the floor, at his bare feet. They were perfectly formed, treading across the cream carpet, leaving slight indentations behind them which took a moment to spring up.

  A thin line tightened around her throat and the warmth of his fingertips guiding it did nothing to assuage the sudden chills that shot through her. He fastened a collar around her neck, pulling it tight enough to be felt, but not so tight as to be uncomfortable. But she was aware of it, she couldn’t fail to be.

  Breathing a little faster, she kept her eyes trained on the handsome lines of his chest, on the way his pecs curved as he moved. He was holding something else in his hands, a length of leather, like a leash. Catching her wrists, he pulled them up above her head and tied them there, the dado rail providing the anchor, her arms stretched as far as they would go.

  Her heart raced as the sensations of the morning returned with a vengeance. Was he doing it on purpose? Making her relive what Hopkins had done? And by extension what happened to Micah? Oh God, he wouldn’t, would he?

  And yet, her demon stepped back from her, his gaze travelling over her skin, and with a surreptitious flick of her eyes, she saw the smile on his face as he drank in her body, the way she trembled.

  His nostrils flared and before she knew what was happening, he slid his hand between her legs, a finger tracing a line between the slick folds of her labia. He brought it up to his mouth and tasted her.

  “All ready and waiting, I see,” he said.

  She said nothing, praying he would laugh and make some sort of smart comment so she would know he was still her Sam, that nothing had really changed and this was just a pretence. But he didn’t.

  Sam cupped her breasts, weighing them in his hands, the pads of his thumbs teasing the nipples to erectness. Lily bit her lower lip and closed her eyes.

  “No,” he said. “Look. I want you to watch.”

  So she did. It was as simple as that, she realised. What Sam wanted, she wanted, and it was not just because it had to be that way. She felt it, pulsing away inside her, the need to please him, to submit to his dominion.

  She watched him run his hands over her body, observed the way he stimulated her, teased her most sensitive places. Nothing was safe from him. He would and could take anything he wanted and there was nothing she could do about it. And she didn’t want him to stop.

  Sam bent to take the tight bud of her left nipple in his mouth, his teeth grazing it, slowly increasing the pressure to the point of pain. Or rather pain and pleasure combined. It formed a direct connection between her breasts and her vagina, a line of fierce desire slicing through her body. She groaned as he rolled the other nipple between thumb and forefinger, squeezing so tightly that it struck again, pulsing in her groin.

  He released her suddenly and without warning. The breath rushed out of her, but he was already gone, his back turned to her and he bent over the bed again. This time he brought back two pieces of metal. At first she wondered if they were some kind of weird tribal weapon, but when he placed the cold curve of metal against her breast, she knew she was wrong. The intricate design cupped the outer curve and clipped against the nipple, cold teeth that bit into her tender skin, enflaming it, and making the blood pump even harder in an effort to reach the abused centre. He fixed the other to her and stood back to admire his work. Like metal tattoos, they embraced her, teased her and dragged against her skin in the most delicious cruelty.

  The corset came next, a sheath of black leather which he stretched around her, lifting her decorated breasts so they sat cupped in the bodice. He hooked up the back, pressing close to her, his musk overwhelming her now. But he didn’t caress her again. His movements were all clinical, cold. He tugged the laces until the corset squeezed all remaining air from her chest, cinched in her waist. The nipple clamps brushed against the bodice and Lily groaned despite herself, rocking her hips in a vain effort to alleviate the building tension.

  Sam caught her hips in his strong hands and pushed them back, stilling them, his touch a warning.

  But he didn’t pull away this time. His fingers dimpled the cheeks of her ass, pressing into the soft skin, massaging her body so that she undulated according to his lead rather than her own will.

  “Tell me how good it feels,” he commanded.

  “It feels good,” she breathed. “Oh God, it feels good.” His fingers bit a little harder and she remembered. “Master,” she finished hurriedly. “My Master.”

  The word sent shards of pure lust running through her veins. Her clit throbbed with need, but he ignored it, driving one finger, then two deep inside her, working against her G-spot until she was shivering and crying out. The metal clamped around her nipples rolled and tormented them, twin points of fiery pleasure that mirrored the violence of her need below. Her vaginal muscles spasmed, locking around his hand as if to hold him tight, or devour him. She felt the white heat of orgasm cresting over her, ready to break and she reached for it, t
he cry of joy hanging ready in the air.

  Then he stopped.

  Sam pulled out of her before she came and the pleasure cut off as if a wire had been severed. Bewildered, betrayed, she stared at him, her chest heaving, sweat sliding down the line of her cleavage, her legs shaking.

  Sam slowly undid his trousers and drew out the magnificent length of his cock. Already erect, the head purpling with its hunger, he ran his hand up and down the shaft, watching her face as he pleasured himself. He took his time, the bastard, his fingers teasing his own skin, drawing the moment out.

  “Please.” He wouldn’t come like that in front of her, would he? He wouldn’t just wank off when they could fuck and— Oh God. “Master, please.”

  Light sparked in his eyes, a demonic light of triumph, of conquest.

  “Say it again.”

  Like she needed prompting. “Please, my Master. Fill me, Sam. Fuck me. Take me away. Please.”

  Sam pressed close to her, his body moulding to the length of her, and his mouth silenced her, his tongue plundering her mouth, reaching deep inside her. She returned his kiss with a ferocity which startled even her. With agonising slowness he slid his hands down to lift her, hooking her legs around his waist. It only took a flex of his hips and he slid deep inside her, filling her, his girth stretching her.

  Lily gasped, her whole body arching to meet him, taking him so deep inside her that she was sure he must now be a part of her. That they were one being and could never be parted.

  Sam thrust, his body taking what he wanted without thought for her, without a care. He fucked her without tenderness, without compassion, his mouth ravenous on hers, teeth and tongue grappling with her. Lily stretched out her hands, wriggled her fingers in a vain attempt to gain the freedom she no longer wanted.

  Sam rammed himself against her, bracing his hands on the wall to either side of her, slamming himself into her willing depths. His tongue penetrated her, delving deep and churning the rising current she could no longer fight.

  It might never end, she realised. She might be bound here forever at his mercy, subject to his every whim. Micah might be lost to her, never to be won back, but Sam—Sam was here for her, for himself. Sam was taking her, consuming her, taking everything she was and recreating it according to his image, his needs. And she would let him take whatever he needed, whatever he wanted. Without reservation.

  Sam growled with his release, emptying himself into her and triggering her own orgasm, a wild and abandoned scream of joy, of need fulfilled. They sank against each other, drenched in sweat and exhaustion, breathing hard as their foreheads pressed together and they stared obsessively into each others’ eyes.

  “Do you understand?” he asked, his chest heaving, his arms wrapped around her, holding her close. “Tell me you understand, Lily, or this can’t go any further.”

  She shook against him, aftershocks still tremoring through her body. He could feel that, surely. He could feel how he affected her, how he made her feel.

  But if this was how it had to be, this was how it had to be. There was no arguing, no dissent. What Sam wanted, Sam got, Sam took. And that was that.

  “I understand,” said Lily solemnly. “Whatever you say. Until we have him back. Help me, Sam.”

  “I will,” he promised, in tones just as serious as her own. “You know I will. And now don’t speak of it again. Promise.” He untangled her legs, lowering her away from his body.

  She bowed her head, lowered her eyes to the ground, even as her legs trembled and went from beneath her. There were only two words that conveyed all she felt, all she needed to say, every promise she owed him and he deserved.

  “Yes, Master.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sam paced the living room, waiting for her, wishing she’d see reason. He had hoped that showing her what was in store for her would frighten her enough that she would leave well enough alone. But not Lily. Oh no. She responded to him. More than responded. She turned it back on him, dominating him with her willing submission.

  He should have known. He should have learned by now. But he kept on doing it. Underestimating her. Just like Micah had said.

  Thoughts of Micah twisted his stomach. His enemy, yes, but one so close at this stage that he was something else. A friend? A lover? He didn’t expect to feel this way about anyone. Let alone both a mortal and an angel.

  The sound of Lily clearing her throat brought his eyes up to the bedroom door. He swallowed hard on his tightening throat, unable to do anything about the similar tightening in his groin.

  The corset was the least of his worries. True, it presented her body, moulding it for him alone. The tight leather skirt she wore barely covered her ass. Beneath it she wore nothing. His fingers twitched at the thought that he could slide them in there, with unrestricted access. Leather cuffs hugged her wrists and ankles, all the better to hold her in whatever position he desired, given a frame to which he could bind her. The studded leather choker around her throat forced her to lift her head proudly, but she kept her eyes demurely cast towards the floor, a perfect contrast.

  Lily had applied a little makeup to her eyes, a little blush to accentuate the flush of arousal beneath her skin, and she had painted her lips scarlet.

  Sam couldn’t deny it. She was perfect.

  So damned perfect it sent chills through his body, followed by waves of hunger.

  “You’re ready?” he asked.

  He wished she would say no. That she would shake her head and back away in fear. But she didn’t.

  “Yes, Master.”

  The words sent shudders through him and his insides knotted with need. Blood pounded and an echoing pulse answered from the sperm damned up in his cock. Damn it, damn it, damn it. All he wanted to do was to push her back onto the bed and…

  The bed they had shared with Micah.

  Damn.

  “Come here,” he told her, forcing his voice to be calm and in command. “Hold on to me.”

  She stood against his back, all the long, warm, curvy length of her pressed against his skin. Carefully, she wrapped her arms around his waist and before he could catch his breath, she turned her head and pressed her cheek against his back.

  “Is this permitted?” she asked in her soft and sultry voice.

  “It is. Now hold on.”

  Never before had he found it so difficult to draw the sigil to open the way to Hell. His hand shook. That shouldn’t happen. But Lily changed him. She changed everything. Perhaps that’s why Heaven and Hell were so interested in her. Or the reason the Nephilim had been drawn to her in the first place. Or perhaps it was all about Micah, as he had said. He didn’t know anymore. How could he tell one end of this tangled web from the other?

  Sam curled his hand into a fist and tried again, more controlled now, more confident on the outside at least. Inside was a different story. He traced the word of opening and the line of fire hung in the air for a moment before it twisted and began to unfurl. A warm blast of air rolled over them and Lily’s grip tightened.

  So she did feel fear. And she trusted him to protect her. Too late he realised why she was doing this.

  She trusted him.

  Sammael clenched his teeth together, leaning back against her as the gateway opened. Beyond he saw an empty chamber, just what he had wanted. Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself what he was, what he was doing. He closed his hands over Lily’s, holding her against him. Her fingers wriggled for just a moment beneath his firm grip, then fell still. Trusting him.

  Damn it, why did she have to trust him?

  Sammael stepped through the gateway, dragging her with him, and closed it behind them.

  The heat made drops of sweat stand out on his skin, and behind him Lily exhaled, a breath of surprise which played on his flesh, maddening his rising lust. This place was part of it. Hell always aroused him. Down through all the endless years his best and worst moments had taken place here, until now. Until Lily and Micah.

  The demon in
him growled and began to uncoil, grabbing back control from the conscious rational being he hoped to be. Forcing it back down took all his willpower, willpower which faltered when he caught Lily’s scent in his flaring nostrils. Sweet, rich, musky, like spiced honey, like a drug, her body pressed to his, the faint hint of fear clinging to her just making the concoction all the more addictive.

  “Lily, come here,” he growled.

  Obediently, she stepped in front of him, her eyes dutifully downcast. Oh, she played the part all right, she played it wonderfully. Not the slightest hint of rebellion.

  And why would there be? Here and now, in his domain, his world, she was his. All his.

  Sammael pushed her back against the wall, running his hands down her sides, pulling her hips towards him so she could feel his arousal, sense his needs. Her pulse quickened and she breathed a little faster, spreading out her fingers against the rock face on each side of her slender form.

  Bending his head, he captured her mouth, his kiss designed to brand her, to remind her that here she had nothing but him, and was nothing, to make her realise his dominance was no charade.

  A moan sounded deep in her throat, that music of submission that he had come to expect of her. She would fight him, at some point, he knew that. When she realised they weren’t going back, that they weren’t going after Micah. Then she would fight.

  And then he’d punish her.

  His cock twitched at the thought.

  “I was wondering where you’d got to, Sammael,” said Asmodeus. Sam jerked around, rage blazing within him. The demon king of lust stood a little way down the corridor, hands on his hips. “We’re gathering in the audience chamber. You won’t want to miss this.”

  Then his eyes snagged on Lily and he grinned. “Or maybe you will. Is this her, then?”

  He sauntered forward. Every element in Sam’s body rose aggressively, but Asmodeus didn’t seem to notice. He slid by him, pressing into the space around Lily. She shrank back against the wall and looked to Sam with desperate eyes, her heaving chest inadvertently thrusting her decorated breasts up at Asmodeus.