Darkest Heart

by Juliette Cross

  When she opened my jeans and hesitantly but firmly pulled out my hard dick, then opened her mouth around the head while looking up at me, my brain hazed and sweat broke out along my spine. I swear I heard angels sing, because this was my hallelujah moment if I’d ever had one. A chorus of seraphim singing their praise for this vixen’s hot mouth and her perfect porcelain hands doing naughty, naughty things.

  A wrecking ball could’ve bashed through the cottage, and I wouldn’t have moved a muscle. Except for the one working in my jaw as I clamped my teeth so tight I felt a pop, smelled molar dust.

  Her long legs were bent and parted, her knees straddling my boots. Her pert breasts jutted up proudly, her nipples tight and peaked. I only noticed in split-second passing because I couldn’t keep my eyes from her mouth. Her glorious fucking mouth.

  She obviously hadn’t done this before, but her enthusiasm outshone all the artful, skillful blowjob givers I’d ever had. The whores of my past were nonexistent shadows next to my angel.

  My Anya.

  When she laid her tongue flat at the base and licked a line all the way up on a soft moan, I choked on air.

  On fucking air.

  I reached down and cupped her jaw, sweeping my thumb to the corner of her mouth where it was working my cock. She released me on a slippery pop, then opened her mouth around my thumb. A suckling tug and swirl of her tongue and I felt my sac draw up tighter than a turtle in the fucking frozen Arctic. Were there turtles in the Arctic? I didn’t fucking know. Didn’t care.

  “I’m going to fuck you hard tonight, angel. Good and proper.”

  My throat felt like a bed of nails on fire, words grating out raspy and thick. That’s when I noticed my canines were full and sharp.

  Rather than repulse or frighten her, she made a little mewling moan that sounded like longing. Yearning. The sound called to some innate part of me, demanding I pay attention and take hold. So I did.

  Scooping her up under her arms, I lifted her till her body was against mine, her toes off the floor, my arms wrapped around her, one below her fine ass. Unruffled, she swept a brief kiss against my lips, then pulled away as I walked us to the bed.

  “Good and proper?”

  “Yep.”

  “I’m not sure what we’re doing can be called good or proper.”

  I chuckled. “That’s because you’ve spent too many years saving orphans and stabbing demons. And I’m very pleased that you have been.”

  I dropped her onto the bed, where she opened her wings flat and watched me strip.

  “Why are you pleased that I’ve been busy saving orphans and stabbing demons?”

  Her otherworld eyes drank me in, revealing her appreciation for my body as the violet was swallowed by the black, in the hitch of her breath and the way she snagged on my chest, torso, then finally my dick, which was standing proud and hoping for an encore. But he wasn’t getting it. I had other plans.

  “Because that gave me the honor of being the first to show you what a good and proper fucking is all about.”

  “Must you use that vulgar word for what we’re doing?”

  Finally free of my clothes, I crawled up the bed, nudging her knees wider and planted my hands on either side of her head.

  “Fucking? I love that word.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s true and constant.”

  She again tilted her head in that way she did. “Like the stars?”

  I paused, taking her in—her swollen lips from working my cock, her candid gaze full of desire, her painfully beautiful and delicate neck, collarbone, breasts. I didn’t realize my metal forefinger was following the path of my gaze till she sucked in a breath when I circled her areola. The tight nub puckered further.

  “Like the stars.” I continued to swirl in a languorous circle, watching her eyes haze over with hunger. Need. Something I knew all too well.

  “Now open your legs.”

  A rumbling growl followed my words as I leaned down and took that perfect nub into my mouth, giving her the edge of my teeth. She bent her knees but couldn’t seem to get her limbs to move quickly enough.

  “Wider, baby,” I breathed against her nipple, skating to the other one and flicking out with my tongue. She jumped. “It’s my turn.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Anya

  Feral. That’s what my demon looked like as he crawled down my body, licking a hot path as he went. He stopped between my legs, hovering, brushing his thumb in a slow glide down the middle of my cleft. Up and down. I couldn’t help but watch him watch me, sweat dampening my skin.

  I’d never counted on there being power in sex. And I’d never been the kind to covet power. But when I’d been on my knees pleasuring him, having this strong, powerful demon under my spell, I understood the intoxicating allure of binding oneself to another. Of having someone you cared for completely captivated.

  That is why I understood the expression on his face as he gazed at me with such fierce desire, the spark of longing vibrating from his touch and invading my skin. He knew he held me captive, in thrall, and I was perfectly at peace with the notion. Once more, I should’ve been horrified by my own eager willingness for this demon lord to take me. But I wasn’t horrified. I was ready.

  I squirmed beneath the too-light sweeps of his thumb and his ardent gaze.

  “Do you want me to taste you, Anya? Do you want me to lick you right here?”

  I choked on a moan.

  “Kiss you with my tongue? Fuck you with my tongue?”

  “Yes. I want you to…do that.”

  He nuzzled his mouth closer, but only the hot whisper of his breath touched me where I needed it most.

  “Kiss me, Dommiel. Right there.” I slid my fingers down and stroked my forefinger down the center under his thumb.

  With a growl and a grip of my wrist, he opened his hot mouth on my core and sucked, tonguing down the slit and into my body.

  I cried out, arching my back on the sudden and delicious intrusion. Unable to do anything but rock my hips against his mouth and moan and hope my heart didn’t pound right out of my chest, I remembered what he’d said. That he’d die if he had to watch me get hurt.

  His burst of emotion showed me he cared for me, and that alone made my body soar for him even higher. Every lick, every kiss, every touch was an extension of his emotions. He could no longer pretend he cared only for himself, and something in his gaze tonight told me he didn’t plan on withholding that information anymore.

  What he didn’t realize was that the fact he cared for anyone beyond his own person was an act unlike demonkind. They only cared for themselves, power, and the darkness.

  Dommiel slid two fingers inside me and leaned over me, his metal arm against my rib cage where he propped his weight. I sunk my fingers into his shoulders, trying to pull him down, wanting to feel his skin against mine. His inked and lovely hard skin. When I felt the sudden build of my orgasm, my mouth falling open, he shook his head and removed his fingers.

  “No,” I begged. “Please.”

  He chuckled, then swept his mouth down to mine, keeping our bodies apart. He pried my lips apart gently, probing with a languorous stroke and sensual slide of his lips against mine.

  “No, beautiful.” Another sweet, long slide of his tongue. “You’ll come on my cock. Nowhere else tonight.”

  Relieved that this wasn’t some new kind of torture by abstinence, I agreed wholeheartedly. “Yes.”

  Another low chuckle. He lifted off the bed and held out his hand. Confused, I stared in bewilderment, panting. When he beckoned again with a curl of his fingers, I put mine slowly into his. He lifted me off the bed and turned my body smoothly toward the wall where a dresser stood and a mirror above it. Through the window, the haze of a cloud-misted moon glowed in the reflection. He stood behind me and eased me toward the dresser, hands on my hips.

  Watching me in the mirror, his hands slid off my hips to my front, his flesh hand splaying across my abdomen, pulling me
back till his chest and torso pressed into my back, his hard length in the cleft of my bottom.

  I sucked in a breath, watching him in the reflection. His dark, inked arm and hand against my pale skin mesmerized me. We were so opposite in every respect. Light to his dark, angel to his demon, calm to his storm. Is that why we fit so heavenly together? Is that why I was hypnotized by him? By the way my body reacted to his every touch? The way his responded to mine? For I could feel the intensity of his affection as he ground once against me, groaning like a dying man.

  His metal hand glided around the front of my thigh where he gripped the inside and pulled my legs farther apart. Something about the cool steel combined with the low growl rumbling from his chest to my back set me on fire. A tendril of heat coiled low in my belly, pooling between my legs.

  He bent his dark head to my ear, his face in shadow.

  “Put your hands on the dresser.”

  I complied as he nipped the skin along the side of my neck, a slow descent before trailing his tongue back up. Gently, he pulled the hair off my shoulder where he gripped it at my nape. His flesh hand found the heat between my legs, slicking up and down.

  “I’m going to fuck you hard, Anya.”

  “Yes,” was my only faint reply, breath coming quick now.

  With the fist of my hair pressed at the base of my neck, he eased me forward.

  “No. Don’t look down. I want your eyes in the mirror.”

  I obeyed. It wasn’t just a willingness to give to him that made me do it, but a bone-deep knowing that he needed me to listen, needed my body to listen, needed all of me to submit, to follow him wherever he was taking me. So strange that my mind, my body complied so easily. I’d always been starkly independent, making my own way without permission or deference to anyone. But Dommiel made me want to give in, to succumb. Because I knew he was taking me somewhere wonderful. And because I knew, in his hands, I was safe.

  Locking on to me in the reflection of shadows and moonlight, he let go of my hair, easing his hands to the bottom of my wings where they fused to my shoulder blades. He brushed his palms over the skin, entranced, then gripped gently around the ridges and slid his hands up to the arch of my wings in a sensual petting. Strangely, the caress sent another wave of heat between my legs.

  I must’ve made a sound pleasing to him. His ruby gaze found mine, intense in the dark, the satisfied tilt of his wide mouth sending a shiver down my spine. Then his metal hand found my hip, digging into my pale flesh, his other gripping his length as he slowly slid it between the folds of my slick sex.

  He was moving so slowly, so gently.

  Too slowly. Too gently.

  Some wild thing beneath my breast yearned for what he’d promised, for the fierce aggression I knew he could give me and send me over the edge in a violent climax. It had never jarred me, disoriented me from my goal to save others, to help others. My motivations had always been outward, not inward.

  But now, Dommiel had awakened that seductive, elusive yearning. And only he could quench it. As if it was a thing nestled so far down, it took a demon to find it and kindle it awake. No, not just any demon. Dommiel. My demon.

  On a raspy whisper, I ventured bravely, “I thought you said you were going to…fuck me hard.”

  The obscene word sounded more obscene on my lips. It seemed that was all it took to summon his demon within. Why did I want that demon so focused on me? It couldn’t be Simian’s toxin, for I’d feel some other emotion besides elated anticipation and sensual bliss. And I didn’t want just any demon. I wanted Dommiel.

  The responding growl from behind me and his gruff, dark-as-midnight, “Oh, baby” was all the warning I had before he notched his cock at my entrance and thrust in to the hilt, rocking my body forward. On a sharp gasp, I caught myself, bracing both hands on the cool wood of the dresser.

  “Yes,” he ground out, clenching my other hip in a possessive hold.

  Then he gave me what he’d promised. Sliding out to the tip, he slammed back in, using his vice grip on my hips to pull me back as he pumped in. Increasing thrust by thrust, his growl rumbling louder, he pounded into me. My breasts bounced forward with each hit home, drawing his demon gaze.

  When I closed my eyes, his sharp tone grated, “Open your eyes, baby.”

  I did, watching his reflection, the flex of his chest and abdomen, the bulging of his biceps as he focused all of his attention on me. The ink on him seemed to move in harmony to our burning bodies coming together, the constellations brighter in the shadows, his lovely body a work of art. When his gaze left me, dropping to stare at where we joined, sliding together with heated escalation, I moaned and gasped for breath.

  “Feels so fucking good.”

  I whimpered in response, agreeing but unable to form words. His grinding stroke hit higher, deeper each time, and I felt the growing tension toward that place of ecstasy only Dommiel had ever brought me. With a snapping growl, he loosed my hips and pulled my torso up. Wrapping his metal arm over my left shoulder where his hand mounded my right breast, his other hand probed between the folds of my sex, finding my swollen clitoris, where he circled as he continued his fervent pumping into my body. Slower now, but not gentle. His pelvis rubbed my bottom with a deep grind at the end of each thrust, the sensation so sensual, I knew I’d come apart soon.

  His mouth was at my ear. “You feel so fucking good, Anya.” He kept his ruby gaze on me in the mirror.

  I reached back with my arms, jutting out my breasts, and grabbed hold of his thrusting buttocks. To feel the intensity of his muscles moving beneath my fingers, the power behind his attentions to my body sent me higher toward that pinnacle.

  “I could fuck you forever, baby.” He burrowed his face into my neck, licking and sucking hard.

  The sharp sting of his sucking sent me over the edge, my sex fluttering with a savage orgasm. I screamed, pressing my head back to his shoulder.

  “Yes, baby. Come hard on my cock.” He continued to stroke, holding most of himself inside me, rocking his beautiful body against me.

  I dug my nails into his buttocks. “I want to feel you come inside me, Dommiel.”

  As if I held complete control of his body, his cock jumped, then pulsed, spending himself with speed. He groaned, burying his face into the crook of my neck.

  “Christ,” he growled under his breath, holding his body rigid, keeping his firm grip on my breast and my sex. Holding me now with complete, open possession. A purring rumble rolled up his chest and throat where he swept his mouth up my neck, kissing me along the jaw, nipping at my lobe.

  “I’m never letting you go, angel.”

  He gripped me tighter as if he knew I’d reject such a claim, as if his tight hold on my most feminine parts would hold my submission, keep me bound to him. There was no need. I turned my head, placing a hand at his nape and pulling his mouth to mine.

  “I don’t want you to let me go.”

  In a whirl of limbs and wings, I was on my back on the bed, plastered to the mattress beneath the bulk of his weight, his searing body covering me from chest to thighs. He clenched a fist in my hair, stopping before it stung, and angled his mouth over mine, delving deep. He didn’t relent, kissing me soundly with sensuous licks of his tongue. My own flicked over his canine. I moaned in the back of my throat, the sense of danger in the man I’d chosen as a lover, winding my body tight for him again.

  He pulled back, licking a slow line across the seam of my lips, nipping at my bottom, then slicking it again with his talented tongue.

  “What am I going to do with you, Anya?”

  I bent my thighs till he was seated fully between, his semi-erect penis pressing into my hip.

  “Keep me,” I whispered, knowing desperation laced my voice. I kissed his beautiful mouth, though he remained unmoving, stupefied for a moment. Nipping his lip the way he did me, I mirrored his kiss, licking along the seam. A half groan, half chuckle vibrated against my chest. Then I rocked upward, showing him what I wanted. Again.


  “Fucking hell.” He obliged, sliding his length down between my thighs, fully hard now. “You’re the hottest woman I’ve ever known.” Caging my head between his hands, his elbows above my shoulders, he watched me with that intense focus as he pushed tenderly into my body this time. “And I can’t seem to stop wanting you.”

  “Then don’t,” I whispered before I kissed him hard, showing him that his affection equaled my own.

  He loved me gently, tenderly the second time. And much longer. We moved as if in a trance, just feeling the perfect union of our bodies, sweat slicked and making a music all our own. We spoke little, except for soft assurances that what was happening between us was sublime. Was right. And I had no doubt that it was. This intimate binding was more than sex, whether he’d admit it or not.

  I had no regrets. No misgivings for giving my body—my heart—into the care of this demon, Dommiel. For he wasn’t like his own kind. His kind would never brush a sweaty lock of hair away from my temple and press his lips there tenderly in a lingering kiss. His kind would never touch me with such reverence and adoration. His kind would never say the words he said to me when we were sated and drowsy, my body sprawled atop his.

  “So that’s what it feels like,” he mumbled, his breath coming heavy as he tilted toward sleep.

  “What, what feels like?” I asked into the dark, the moonlight painting the coverlet silver.

  I thought he’d fallen asleep entirely, but then, “To fuck a woman I’d die for.”

  My heart squeezed. I wrapped my hand up to his neck and snuggled closer, never wanting this moment of intimacy to end. Never wanting to lose my demon lover.

  An ominous whisper of dread crawled over my skin, a sickening foreboding telling me that no matter how this all ended, I most certainly would lose him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Anya

  Nadya held out the breastplate and leather gear I was to wear in the fighting pit. I stared at it, knowing there was far less material than I was comfortable with.

  “Is this the whole outfit?”