by ML Guida
“Oh, Holy Mercy,” she gasped.
He couldn’t hide a smile. “We’ve only just begun, angel.”
He worked his way down to the juncture between her legs. He spread her thighs apart and pressed his mouth to her dewy feminine curls.
She arched her back. “Yes, yes.”
Suddenly, his wig was jerked off, and his hair fell across her flushed skin.
Her eyes widened. “You’ve got red hair.”
“So, I’ve noticed.” Did she remember him?
Her sweet mewling was the most erotic thing he’d ever heard. Wanting to please her more, he probed his tongue between her folds, stroking, kissing, and sucking. She screamed and rocked her hips. He grasped her hips and pinned her to the floor as he feasted greedily on her, lapping her sweet cream—something he’d lock away in his memory as he endured Balthazar’s torments.
Poison screamed; her orgasm swooshed into his mouth. He’d never tasted anything so succulent.
He left her wet curls and moved up her panting body, feasting on her sultry flesh. He licked the salt off as she quivered but detected another sweet taste. Perhaps honey? He’d never forget the mixing of sweet and salt, only his angel would possess such a combination.
She held his head to her trembling body. He clasped her nipple, sucking hard. She yielded to him. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. He teased and nipped her breast, and she writhed beneath him. Her slow moans rocked him, and he grew harder. His pants were too confining and rubbed against his erection. He snapped his fingers, and they disappeared. He groaned as he melted against her sizzling skin.
When she curled one leg around his buttocks, he sucked in his breath. His angel drove him mad with her teasing. He sought her other breast and played and pinched her nipple, resulting in a squeal. She arched up against him, pushing her breast deeper into his mouth, and he obliged her by devouring her. Her thundering heart matched his. Hunger swelled inside him, and his appetite for her grew. He wanted to sink his cock into her sweet folds and thrust hard, driving her into hellish oblivion and hearing her cry out his name.
Disappointment filled him. She didn’t know his name.
Shoving his disappointment behind him, he moved to her other breast, giving it the same attention as the last. She caressed his back, and he wanted to feel her fingernails scratching his skin as another splitting orgasm gripped her. His shirt vanished, and her nails scraped along his skin, sending a long shudder running along his spine. A storm of passion surged through him, wild and out of control, and every time she gasped with pleasure, whirlwinds of desire churned inside him, demanding he plunge inside her. But he held back the need, his only intent to please her. He refused to give into his frenzy until he was sure Poison was ready for him. He wanted her to remember this night as pleasure, even if she didn’t know his name.
He kissed and touched every inch of her, hearing her moans, the soft little whimpers that escaped when his mouth and hands discerned every spot, flinging her into devilish pleasure. He sought her mouth and fastened his to hers. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close, her hands moving along his back. He ravenously hungered for her taste and fed on her mouth diabolically, satisfying his desire. Their tongues tangled and danced, Poison matching his every move—hands moved everywhere, touching, probing, satisfying. On fire.
“You’re killing me.” She tangled her fist in his hair. “Please take me. I can’t stand it anymore. Pleasure me as only as a trickster can. Now.”
He lifted his head and stared into her hooded eyes. Her body was hot, hot for him. He raged for her and another tremor shot through him. He wanted her, like this, hungry for him. How could he deny her? “As you demand, sweet angel.”
Chapter Five
Ignoring Michael’s orders, Poison plunged into temptation, matching the mysterious pirate kiss for kiss, caress for caress. Who was she kidding, she knew who it was but couldn’t bring herself to admit it. Not yet anyway. The pirate’s long hair brushed against her sweltering skin, and she moaned as feathery chills raced over her. The demon spread her legs apart and wedged himself between her quaking thighs. The head of his erection was large, pressing tightly against her opening, seeking access.
Michael’s firm words echoed in her mind, but the seduction was too wild, too foregone, too titillating. She pulsed with need, desperate for relief from the fervor—every square inch of her cried out for his possession.
“Now, demon, ride me.”
“First, let me prepare you,” he whispered in a husky voice. His hot breath stirred more tingling sensations.
Her heart lodged in her throat, and the air sucked out of her lungs. Prepare for what? But then, he moved a rough hand down her molten skin and slipped a finger into her core. She sucked in her breath and instinctively rocked her hips. Sinful sensations whisked through her. She gripped the carpet and held on tight as he added another finger, and her tight muscles clenched around them. As the demon’s finger probed deeper and his hot mouth brushed soft kisses on her nose, cheeks and lips, he fueled another orgasm—one more lustful than the last.
Have I just fallen from grace?
And each time she whimpered or propelled her hips, he worked his fingers harder, brought her higher, until she was nearly blinded by the brilliance of her own furor. She dug her fingers into his thick biceps, holding on to him as a rush of sensation tore through her.
He removed his fingers and thrust his shaft deep inside her slick entrance. She cried out at the raw friction between them. She was shocked he remained so still, allowing her body to adapt to his large size. Demons were selfish, but not this one, he seemed bent on pleasing her, not hurting her. He put her pleasure above his own. Strange.
She roamed her hands over his hot back, and he trembled. She smiled at the power she had over this arrogant being.
“You’re so tight,” he murmured.
She tossed her head back, allowing his wicked lips to suck her neck. So hot. A raging fire swept down her throat and spread to every inch of her body. Tension swelled inside her, blocking out any reservations, demanding a luscious release.
She arched her hips, and he thrust inside her, delving deeper, harder, sending a spitfire of orgasms through her, each stronger than the last, yet never enough. She wanted more of him, to drain every bit of his seed. The thin red area rug failed to cushion the demon’s powerful plunges, and her buttocks smashed into the hard floor, but Sweet Heaven, she loved it, craved it, demanded it. She locked her legs around his buttocks and rocked her hips, matching his rhythm. Her heart pounded, and she tried to catch her breath, but she held onto his shoulders, clinging to him, holding on as he rode harder, afraid she wouldn’t survive the sensations filling her.
Deep within her belly, a flicker slowly grew, flourishing into a burst of energy that spread through her blood stream at angel speed. What was happening? A soft glow illuminated around her and her lover. It burned brighter as her orgasm heightened, this one, ten times as strong as the others.
She’d lain with men and angels before, but nothing like this had ever happened.
Wait.
Heaven’s Wrath, was this what Scythe had been talking about? This demon was her angel-mate. No, this couldn’t be happening. What was she thinking? Michael knew. That’s what he meant by temptation. It wasn’t like angels could pick their angel-mates. Holy Miracles, she wished she could have, but now, she had hers, and she was never going to let him go.
She wrapped her fingers into his thick hair, pulled his hot lips to hers, and kissed him hard, devouring his masculine taste, wanting him to bind him to her. He slammed hard into her. The fierce pleasure, almost excruciating in its intensity, gripped her, and she realized the demon gauged the force of each thrust by the strength of her cries. Heaven’s gate, he planned on killing her with devilish pleasure.
The angelic power flashed through her body. The demon tore away from her lips and lifted his head. He braced his hands on the sides of her neck as he arched his back. White light burst through her m
outh, illuminating the room. A thunder bolt pierced the demon’s right pectoral. Blinding radiance filled the room, and he cried out as he came again and again inside her. Her mind went blank as pleasure filled her body.
She spotted an evil clown tattooed above his right nipple. It was Ringmaster! She cried out his name in ecstasy.
He collapsed on top of her and buried his face in her neck. Neither of them spoke, both panting to catch their breath and collect their wits. Poison ran her hand over his quivering back. She turned to kiss his damp neck. She glanced at the clock—ten minutes to deadline. Thunder rumbled outside. “Crap.”
He lifted his head. “What?”
He still sent tiny thrusts inside her, and more orgasms washed over her, but minuscule compared to the tsunami she’d just endured. Another loud thunder shook the skies. She licked her lips and her hand cupped his face in her hand. “Michael.”
He lowered his head, and his hair caressed her still sensitive skin. She sucked in a breath.
“Balthazar won’t be far behind.”
Fear seized Poison. Michael wouldn’t kill her. Punish? Yes. Kill? No.
But Balthazar was a different kind of animal. He liked to hurt things. Torture things. Kill things. What he would do to Ringmaster made her throat run dry. What could she do?
She was an angel of death, and she’d be damned before she’d give up her angel-mate without a fight. She traced her finger around the silver wings next to the evil clown. He shivered and looked down at her. She reached around his neck, untied his mask, and flung it across the room.
He cocked his eyebrow. “Angel-mate, huh?”
She nodded and stared into his beautiful face. “Bound to me forever.”
Chapter Six
Roaring thunder shook the room. Ringmaster cringed. Great, the leader of the Angels of Death was arriving, and he was alone with one of Michael’s most fierce, but now, he was her mate.
He ran his hand over the wings imprinted next to the clown, marking his name. This sweet angel had branded him—a demon. Did she know the deeds he’d had done? The whoosh of each foul act flashed in his memory. Guilt rattled him. Could she really live with him?
Nothing could break the tie. Hell, he didn’t want to. When their bosses discovered what had happened, they’d fight over who got his guts for trophies.
He bent down and kissed Poison’s luscious lips, then gave her a resigned smile. “Time to face the music—angel-mate.”
As if on cue, the fire roared behind them. He peered over his shoulder. The gas fireplace burned brighter, as if someone had given it steroids. Yeah, Balthazar was close. And he was going to be fresh hell meat. First things first.
He pulled out of Poison and rolled to the side. Lisa sat in the same position, her face frozen. She’d seen nothing.
He clamored to his feet and reached down and pulled Poison to her feet. He waved his hand, and instead of a pirate costume, he wore blue jeans and a black T-shirt. He snapped his fingers, and Poison was clothed in her usual army attire, the sexiest soldier he’d ever met. He was proud to be her mate. Why he was chosen, he had no idea. But he was the first. Balthazar was going to be pissed.
He snatched the spell board off the coffee table and gripped Poison’s stiff shoulders. “Take this and Lisa and get the hell out of here.”
Poison lifted her chin. “No.”
He shook her. “This is no time to argue. Balthazar’s coming.” He tilted his head. “Now go.”
She remained silent. More thunder pounded outside. It was getting closer. The clock chimed behind them. Dong. Dong. Dong. Midnight.
She raised her eyebrow. “You’re going to sacrifice yourself?”
He dropped his hands. “Yes. Balthazar will destroy me.” More thunder rumbled. “Besides you have enough trouble on your hands.”
“I’m not going to let you die. I’m an Angel of Death.”
“And Balthazar is Lucifer’s second in command.” He grasped her soft chin with his fingers and stared into those determined eyes. “No offense, mate, but your powers could never defeat him.”
She wrapped her hand around his wrist and pulled his arm down. He was amazed at the strength in those soft feminine hands.
“Maybe I don’t want to defeat him.”
He blinked. “What?”
Poison’s eyes widened, and her nose wrinkled.
“Hello, Ringmaster,” a low voice said.
Ringmaster spun around. Balthazar leaned against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. As usual, he wore no shirt but donned black leather pants and high leather boots. He claimed he never wore a shirt due to the heat in hell, but Ringmaster knew better. The bastard liked to show off his rippled muscles.
Balthazar stared at Poison. “I see you’ve been going where no demon has gone before.” He rubbed his chin. “Well, not quite. No one has ever turned traitor.” He dropped his hand and narrowed his eyes. “Until now.”
Ringmaster stepped in front of Poison. “Let her go.”
“Ringmaster.” Poison hit him in the back. “I’m not a damn cherub.”
He didn’t move and met Balthazar’s fierce glare. His insides twirled, and sweat trickled down his temples. This wasn’t going to be good.
Balthazar stood straight and strolled over to them.
Ringmaster put his arms out and blocked Poison from coming around either of his sides. He slowly backed up. “Take me, Balthazar. But leave her.”
“Oh, I intend to take you, but you won’t be going alone.” He waved his hand.
Poison groaned behind him. Ringmaster wheeled around. She was buckled over—one hand wrapped around her stomach, and the other covered her mouth. She gagged and coughed.
Ringmaster wrapped his arm around her trembling body. “Stop torturing her.”
Balthazar shrugged. “It’s nothing that she doesn’t deserve.” He half smiled. “Right now, I’m being lenient with her.” His face darkened, and his eyes burned bright red. “But you won’t be so lucky.”
Fear slammed into Ringmaster’s gut. He didn’t care about himself, but he’d die before he’d allow Poison to get anywhere near Balthazar’s little fun-house room. What his boss did to demons and humans made the toughest, evilest, devil flinch.
Balthazar snapped his fingers. Ringmaster’s clothes burst into flames. He jerked away from Poison. Unbearable pain seized him. He screamed.
“Ringmaster!” Tears welled in Poison’s eyes. She struggled to stand. “No, leave him alone.”
A snap rang in Ringmaster’s ears, and the flames vanished, but not the anguish. Steam rose from his body. The stench of his own charcoaled skin turned his stomach. He panted, trying to get his breath, but each time he inhaled, agony filled his burnt lungs. “Balthazar, please,” he said, in a scorched whisper.
“Ah, nothing like the sound of begging.” Balthazar stretched out his arms, and then lowered them. “Kneel, traitor.”
Ringmaster gritted his teeth but did as he was told. The red carpet scraped his charred flesh, but he bit back another scream. What could he do? If he refused, Balthazar would hurt Poison. Making her sick was the least of his torturers.
He’d do anything to protect his little angel.
Lightning lit up the darkened room. He raised his fried palm to shield his eyes. Electrical tingles swept over him. He flinched. The slight movement blew swells of agony through him. For some reason, his eyes weren’t seared. Knowing Balthazar, there was a reason—a sinister one.
Thunder cracked again. The clock fell off the mantel and shattered. Picture frames crashed to the floor. The desk lamp tumbled to the floor and cracked in two.
A massive headache slammed into his temples, as if someone had a fired a gun next to ears. He couldn’t think, couldn’t cry out. “You’ve had your fun, Balthazar.”
The demon grinned. “I haven’t even started.”
His smile faded, and the cockiness left his face. For a moment, fear flickered in his eyes. What could he have possibly to fear? Ringmaster fro
ze. Unless…
Balthazar reached for the spell board but it jerked out of his fingers and flew across the room by itself to a dark corner. He crinkled his eyebrows. “What the hell?”
An outline of a tall shadowy figure stood in the corner. A pair of silver eyes glowed through the darkness. A tremor of terror vibrated through Ringmaster. His heart quivered, and pain jabbed through his body. Things had just gotten worse—apocalyptic worse.
“Hello, Balthazar,” a surly male voice said.
Michael emerged from the shadows, clutching his infamous sword, Excalibur, powerful enough to take down Balthazar.
Chapter Seven
Crap, Michael.
The hair on the back of Poison’s neck fluttered. A million goose bumps ran over her arms, as if feathers tickled her skin. She was so dead.
The soft glow of the fireplace illuminated his tall, menacing form. He towered over all of them, and his white wings spread out like an eagle’s. His long, black hair hung past his shoulders. He gazed at each one of them and clutched his heavenly sword which gave off a bluish radiance. “Well, well, what do we have here?”
She licked her lower lip. She’d broken the rules and had given into sin. Heaven’s Bells, he was going to banish her to hell. “Michael,” she gasped. “I…”
The air crackled as he moved. He held up his hand. “I told you not to give into temptation.” He looked past her to poor Ringmaster, who was on all fours.
Poison’s heart broke, and tears stung her eyes. How could Balthazar do this to Ringmaster? Michael would never help him.
She wanted to help him, but the stench of hell reeking from Balthazar sent her stomach reeling. She trembled and couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering. Raphael’s little potion got a huge ‘F’ from her. But then she wasn’t confronting just any demon, she had gone up against the Duke of Hell.
Poison ached to reach out and touch Ringmaster, but his skin had turned black, like an overcooked roast, and cracked. She was afraid his flesh would crumple and fall away from his bones with the slightest touch. She wanted to heal him, but she didn’t have the power.