Page 37 of Claimed By the Villain

I feel my core tighten, and the space between my thighs goes hollow with need. I want to be taken, filled by him.

My love for Lucifer, in all my dreams, even though it always had a strong physical pull, was idealized. My intuition told me he was hot, sexy, wild, but I never imagined he’d consume me like this, with just a kiss and a few touches.

And more than that, I had no idea my reaction would be this carnal.

It took just two “interactions” between us for me to understand that being with him means having hot, feral sex.

Chapter 20

His hand moves upward and his thumb brushes lightly over my breast. It’s a subtle, almost innocent touch, but it sends a violent jolt through me, making me moan into his mouth.

I hear the low sound of his laughter against my lips. And even though I know it’s because the arrogant bastard knows I’m completely defenseless in his arms, I want to bottle that sound. Witnessing Lucifer laugh—or even smile—is rare.

I should stop him when his hand slides between my thighs, but I don’t want to. There’s no shame in me right now. No restraint. I’ve longed for this touch far too long.

He deepens the kiss, his skilled tongue assaulting mine, giving me no chance to escape.

Lucifer’s kiss is filthy, rough, perfect.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up—just like they did when I used to feel him watching me in the dark.

Lucifer has always had the power to ignite a visceral need in me for his touch.

He grabs my hair, hard. It blurs the line between pain and pleasure, and I’ve just discovered that I’m really, really into that.

My body’s on fire, and when he pushes my dress up, I want to beg him to tear it off me.

It’s not a gentle motion. It’s rough. Impatient. Like he’s desperate to see me naked. To touch me everywhere.

Then, without warning, he turns me to face the wall, flattening my hands against it.

He pulls my hips back, forcing my ass to arch toward him.

“Don’t move,” he commands, and I realize he’s stepped back.

God, is he looking at me?

I’m so flustered I try to remember which panties I’m wearing instead of focusing on the fact that my teenage crush is staring at my ass.Oh, right. Black lingerie.

His finger glides down my spine and stops at the waistband of my thong. I throw my head back and moan, aching for his touch.

“You want to come,” he whispers, biting my earlobe.

It’s not a question, so I stay quiet, trying to hold on to some shred of dignity.

He slaps my ass hard, and I shiver with pleasure.

“Fuck, Jackie.”

He crouches behind me, and I close my eyes when I feel his fingers sliding my panties down to mid-thigh. He doesn’t take them off completely, and somehow that makes it even hotter.

Lucifer

Losing control isn’t something I do often.

I can count on one hand how many times I’ve let myself give in to emotion—and never when it came to sex, but Jackie’s taste is addictive. And now I won’t stop until I feel her come on my tongue.

I grab both cheeks of her ass in my hands and spread them open. Her pussy is dripping, begging for my mouth.