She wadded up the paper and shoved it into the trash can. She looked so adorable, with her flushed face, he cornered her beside the exam table. He checked the computer camera. It was still covered with black tape.
“Are we alone in this building?” He put his hands on her shoulders. His thumbs skimmed her collarbones. His erection felt like it would split the inseam of his pants.
Dara nodded, her eyes huge. The mixture of hope and fear there undid him. There was nothing he could do about his own longings, but he could satisfy hers. On Saturday, he would do something to make her push him away again, but tonight he would gratify her in ways she’d never known before.
He crushed his mouth down on hers, reveling in her instant response. As their tongues tangled in an ancient dance, his shaft became a piece of iron. Cupping her haunches, he lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist. She ground herself against him and he groaned. This was the strongest temptation he’d ever resisted.
He set her on the exam table without breaking their kiss. She moaned against his mouth and locked her ankles behind him. When they finally came up for air, he pulled her scrub top over her head. Her color heightened, but she made no move to resist.
Against her breast lay the ruby cross that had burned him the other night. He eyed it warily.
She reached for the clasp. “I can take it off.”
He stayed her hand. “Leave it on. It won’t be in the way for what I have in mind.”
He unfastened her bra and tossed it away. Reflexively, her arms crossed to cover her breasts and collarbones, but he grasped her wrists and peeled them away, kissing each palm before setting them at her sides.
“The light’s a little clinical, don’t you think?” she said.
“Do you want me to turn it off?” That would leave the windowless room completely black.
She hesitated. “It’s up to you.”
“Then we’re leaving it on.” He wanted her to be with him without shame or inhibition.
Before him, her breasts swayed free. Their motion made his shaft harden even more painfully. He leaned forward to suckle a breast, feeling her nipple tighten between his lips.
She arched her back, pressing her breast more deeply into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around her nipple. She grasped his shoulders. “We don’t have condoms here. Unless you…?”
“We won’t need them.” He blessed her common sense. It was easier to be the man he wanted to be knowing she would hold him to that standard. “Tonight is all about you.”
He returned his attention to her breasts, taking time between sorties to nuzzle her collarbones, even though every time he touched her scars, his shaft thrust toward her like a lance at a joust.
Reaching down, he slipped off her clogs and dragged her scrub pants off. She was wearing white cotton briefs, which should have dampened his desire, but they were so perfectly Dara they had the opposite effect. Spreading her thighs, he put his face against the cotton cloth between her legs and scraped his teeth over the fabric.
She tried to shut her knees.
“Relax.” He backed off, using his hands to calm her. He stroked down her ribs, feeling the indentations between each rib and the soft skin that covered them. He smoothed her belly, his fingers drifting over the pale scar where they’d taken her womb. She had lost so much. He would not be part of her losing anything else. He kissed the scar to seal that vow.
He contented himself with kissing her until her body became soft and pliant. Then he slipped a finger inside her panties. Her portal was warm and wet and welcoming. He swallowed. There were condoms in the pharmacy. Jamie had just locked it down, but Dara would have a key. Belial pulled himself up short. Condom or no condom, uniting with her would eventually destroy her.
For a while, he contented himself with stroking lightly between her legs. When she wriggled to get closer to his questing fingers, he pulled her to the edge of the table and ground his shaft against her. She groaned and hooked her ankles around his ass, rubbing hard against him.
Her body called to him like a beacon pulling him home. It would be so easy to unzip his khakis, shove aside her panties and be inside her. For a moment, his body pulsed with a hunger so strong he could barely contain it.
Then he looked at her face. She smiled at him, her eyes drowsy with desire. Despite the harsh overhead light, she made no attempt to cover herself or mask her eagerness. She trusted him, and for the first time in ten thousand years, trust felt like something to be honored, no matter the cost.
Corralling his outsize need to join with her, he stepped back. He peeled off her underpants. Kneeling on the little step at the end of the table, he buried his face between her thighs, glorying in the heat and the taste and the scent of her. He stroked her with his tongue until her fists clenched and unclenched on the padded table.
The metal edge of the step chewed into his knees, but he would have been content to stay there, tasting the honey of her, forever. Occasionally, he would reach up to tweak her nipples, or stroke the pit of her elbow or the delicate flesh behind her knees. Every touch seemed to delight her, pushing her closer to orgasm, and that delighted him.
When certain movements of her body warned him that she was about to climax, he slid one finger inside her, then a second. Unerringly, he located the spot that magnified a woman’s orgasm and pressed against it. His tongue stroked harder. With a muffled shriek, she grabbed his hair and ground herself into his face, arching off the table like a woman possessed.
Joy bubbled up inside him. Into the life of this woman who had known so much pain, he had brought pleasure. Her orgasm rolled on and on, filling him with a fierce exultation.
Only when she finally eased back against the table, releasing his hair and lying there, spent, did he remove his fingers from her body. He stood. Dara appeared to be semiconscious. He kissed her, savoring the way her body looked, more relaxed than he’d ever seen her. He probed one of trapezius muscles with a fingertip. It was as soft as a sea sponge. She didn’t move under his prodding. He couldn’t help grinning.
“So that was okay?” he asked.
She opened heavy eyelids. It was clearly a struggle.
“Better than okay.” She dragged herself up on one elbow, tired but game. “What can I do for you?”
That was Dara. Even exhausted, she thought about others.
“You could stay naked,” he said, letting his eyes roam over her.
Unfortunately, that brought her back to herself. Blushing, she got up and dressed. She moved more slowly than normal, and that made him smile. He pulled her close and kissed her.
“Saturday,” she mumbled against his shirt. “I’ll pay you back on Saturday.”
He kissed the top of her head.
Before Saturday, he’d have to figure something out.
Chapter 40
On Wednesday, they discovered they needed a special permit, a variance to the local zoning ordinances, to allow gambling at the ballroom. The zoning commission wouldn’t meet until next month, so that required another trip to Hell.
This time, Belial had to blackmail Bad to get what he wanted. He threatened to tell Satan about Bad’s dalliance with a certain she-demon during the same period said she-demon was also dallying with Satan. It was only after he listed dates and locations and hinted that pictures might exist that Bad agreed to have one of his minions hack into the Bermuda County computer system to file and approve the variance application.
Belial watched over the hacker’s shoulder, confirming the variance had gone through.
Bad wandered up beside him. “While you’re down here, the boss wants to see you.” He made no effort to hide his satisfaction.
Cursing under his breath, Belial made his way to Ring Nine.
When he got to Satan’s office, the boss’s color was normal and no hint of smoke emanated from his horns. Belial’s demon senses tingled. There was no way Satan was this calm with the wager so near its conclusion and nothing decided.
“Have you
made any more progress?” Satan asked.
Belial thought about his foreplay with Dara in the exam room. “I’ve been busy with the tournament. That will seal the deal.”
“Take her back to the beach house after the tournament,” Satan said. “The boys haven’t had any fresh porn in a long time.”
Belial tried to cover his distaste. “I don’t do my best work in front of an audience.”
“Deal with it. Three-quarters of the demons down here have already lost money on the pool for how long it would take you to boink her, and they’re pissed. If you’re to become second-in-command, you need to start mending fences.”
Belial’s unease increased. Satan acted like his long-awaited promotion was a done deal rather than dependent on a mission that was behind schedule. Belial should be tap-dancing to avoid being recalled, not arguing logistics.
“She’ll be a lot more comfortable in her own home,” he said.
Satan’s face darkened a shade. “After six weeks, she should be willing to do it in a glass elevator, if that’s what you want. Fuck her in the beach house.”
“Seriously? You’re willing to risk the outcome of this wager to keep the troops happy?”
“You say you want to be a leader. Show me some leadership skills.”
“I am showing you leadership skills. Risking an important mission to provide a circus for a bunch of louts who should be out seducing their own targets is exactly the kind of practice I want to put an end to. We could be ten times more productive if ‘the boys’ would get off their dead asses and get to work.”
It was a speech he’d given Satan a thousand times. He’d said nothing new, but the boss’s face lightened.
“You still want that promotion.”
“Of course I still want that promotion,” Belial said, though he could not have cared less.
“Fine. Boink her wherever works best. Then report in.”
One thing that worried Belial was the attacks on the clinic. Lilith continued to deny responsibility, though he knew beyond doubt she was behind them. Worse, they appeared to be escalating.
On Wednesday, Tia called in sick because of a huge, painful boil on her perineum—the plague of boils. Dara was supposed to meet Ben and Kelsey at the ballroom to plan decorations, but Tia’s illness meant she had to cover the Wednesday night clinic. That, in turn, meant he didn’t get to see her. She was philosophical, but, knowing it was one of the few days they had left together, Belial was furious.
When he got home that night, he confronted Lilith. “I know you’re behind these plagues. The boy you gave MRSA identified you.”
Lilith widened her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m doing everything I can to help you. Jeremy’s been there every night, helping. What else do you want from me?”
“I’m glad you asked. I want you to convince every board member to participate in the tournament.”
Her mouth fell open. “The buy-in for your tournament is two thousand dollars. How do you expect me to convince people I barely know to donate that kind of money on three days’ notice?”
“You’re a demon,” he said. “Use your skills.”
“Fine.” Then her eyes narrowed. “How are you paying for all this?”
“You’re going to help me.”
“I so am not. Mammon’s right—you need to learn to work within a budget.”
He reached into the pocket of his jacket and retrieved the velvet purse he’d brought back from Hell. He’d considered simply stealing some of Lilith’s jewels and pawning them, but again the thought of Dara finding out and thinking less of him dissuaded him. Before he even opened the flap, Lilith’s eyes began to glow.
“Is that…?”
Nodding, he drew out a pair of jeweled hair combs. They had belonged to Jezebel. Before he seduced her, she’d been a nice young girl. It was a stark reminder of what could happen if he had intercourse with Dara.
Lilith’s hand hovered over the combs. “May I?”
He shoved them back in the purse. “For a price.”
She glared at him. “How much?”
He knew to a penny how much he needed to finish funding the tournament. “Five thousand dollars.” Their history made them worth far more, and they both knew it.
“I’ll have the money transferred to your account.”
He shook his head. There were too many ways to interfere with electronic transactions. “Cash only.”
She pulled out her wallet and handed him fifty crisp hundreds.
“It’s a pleasure doing business with you.” He handed her the combs. “By the way—why haven’t you been hanging around Dara, helping with the tournament?”
She slipped one of the combs into her hair and pulled a mirror from her purse. “I thought it might be good to give her some breathing room.”
A flicker of hope ignited in his chest. “Did she make you?”
“Please.” Lilith stuck her nose in the air. “Unlike some demons, I know how to do my job.”
The next day brought a freak hailstorm that broke several windows at the clinic, though no other damage was recorded in Alexandria. Belial wished he’d charged Lilith twice as much.
On Friday, Dara met him at the ballroom after work.
“How did things go today?” he asked.
“Power outage,” she said. “We sat in the dark for three hours. And when the lights came back on, the computer network wouldn’t come up. The tech thinks we have a virus.”
“The plagues of darkness and pestilence,” he said.
She nodded.
Neither of them said it aloud, but that left only the death of the firstborn. He wished he could tell her not to worry about that. The terms the Enemy had set down ensured that no one would die. His cell phone was in his pocket, so he couldn’t say anything. He held her in his arms and rubbed the tight muscles in her shoulders, kissing her hair and murmuring, “Everything will be okay. I promise.”
Dara spent Friday evening kissing Ben in every dark corner of the Alexandria Ballroom they could find. The interludes left her panting for more. If Kelsey and Jeremy and Javier and Gabby hadn’t been there, she would have dragged down his jeans and mounted him right there in the ballroom.
On the way home, she stopped at Mercy Care to see Nana. Guilt stabbed at her. It was only the second time she’d gotten by to see her grandmother that week.
Nana was already in bed when she got there. She leaned over to kiss the weathered cheek. Nana sniffed her neck. “I smell demon musk on you.”
Dara didn’t deny it.
“Are you fornicating with him?”
“Not yet.” She hated disappointing Nana even more than she hated worrying her, but there was no point in lying. Nana wouldn’t believe her anyway.
She filled Nana in on the progress on the tournament. As expected, Nana didn’t approve of funding the clinic by encouraging people to drink and gamble. “You’re spending too much time with that demon.”
That was probably true.
“What are you doing, girl?” Nana asked. “You know he’s got ill intentions. What are you thinking?”
“He’s changed since he was sick.”
Nana snorted. “You’re thinking with your hormones and not your head. This will come to a bad end.”
Even though her heart and gut said Ben was different in some momentous way, Dara couldn’t put it into words.
“Once this tournament is over, I’ll bring him by and you can see for yourself.”
“Demons don’t change.” Nana’s face was flushed, a sure sign her blood pressure was up.
Dara’s stomach twisted with worry and guilt. “Sunday. I’ll bring him by on Sunday.”
“You were supposed to bring me that she-demon, too.”
Dara grimaced. “I forgot all about that. I’ll see what I can do, after the tournament.”
When she got up to leave, Nana pulled a thick, leather-bound book from beneath the covers and held it out. “Take this with you.”
&
nbsp; “What is it?”
“Your granddaddy’s Bible.”
Dara frowned. “I can’t take this.” She pushed it back toward her grandmother. “It’s yours.”
Nana tucked her hands under the covers. The flesh around her jowls sagged like the weight of the world’s sins was dragging on her. “Take it home and read the Book of Revelation. That will help you see that demon for what he is.”
Dara knew exactly what Revelation had to say about demons, but the demons depicted there were hard to reconcile with Ben Lyle. More and more, he seemed like an ordinary man to her, but she didn’t want to upset Nana further by arguing.
“I won’t be in tomorrow,” she said. “By the time the tournament is over, I’ll be too exhausted. But we’ll see you on Sunday.”
Nana looked her in the eye. “I’m praying for you.”
She was praying Dara wouldn’t do something she had every intention of doing.
Dara took the Bible home and set it on the dining room table. There, it served as a reproach every time she walked past.
On Saturday, Belial, clad in a tuxedo, watched the parking lot of the Alexandria Ballroom fill with Cadillacs, Lexuses, Mercedes, Porsches and Ferraris. When a Lamborghini rolled past the glass doors, he stared at the Italian car in bemusement. Why had driving one seemed so important? It was just a car, a lifeless hunk of metal and rubber.
Dara wore a short black dress with a black lace yoke that played peekaboo with her collarbones and nearly drove him crazy. She sat by his side at the registration desk and greeted the players as they came in. He took their two-thousand-dollar cashier’s checks and Dara gave them their table assignments. By his calculation, even after he paid the remaining costs associated with the event, they would clear at least the ten thousand dollars he’d promised.
Whenever there was a lull, he ran his fingers up the black nylon stockings that encased her legs. They weren’t pantyhose, but stockings with a garter belt. He had known it would be hard to resist making love to her later, but the dress and those stockings intensified the problem tenfold.
The Demon Always Wins: Touched by a Demon, Book 1 Page 27