Page 140 of Lustling

EIGHTY-FOUR

The portal closes and Cassiel pulls me against his chest, his lips pressed to mine. I can already tell he intends on taking full advantage of having me to himself for a while. And who am I to complain?

I giggle against his mouth before slipping out of his grip. Standing at the end of the bed, I glance at him over my shoulder. “Undress, angel.”

He doesn’t hesitate. His clothes fall in messy piles at his feet as he steps closer, until he stands before me naked, pale skin glowing in the lamplight. Then, without a word, he drops to his knees, bowing his head as though I’m altar and sin both.

“Cassiel,” I whisper, but before I can say more, his mouth is on my legs, kissing up my thighs.

I rest my hand on his golden head. His eyes lift to mine, burning with hunger and devotion.

“Look at you,” I murmur. “On your knees without even asking. What a good boy.”

If I said that to Deimos or Bastion, they’d growl and toss me to the mattress. But Cassiel—his cock is already hard, leaking for me, as if the praise alone is enough. He loves when I corrupt him, when I call him mine.

“I want to see your wings.”

His jaw tightens, but he obeys. Slowly, carefully, his wings unfurl. Not fully—there isn’t space for that—but enough to fill the room with shimmering white, tips dragging across the floor.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whisper, lifting his chin so I can see his face, the way devotion burns there.

Then I sit on the edge of the bed and spread my legs. He understands without words, fingers gripping my thighs as his mouth trails along the inside of one, biting just hard enough to sting. I gasp, nails digging into his hair.

When his lips close over my clit, my body bows, a sharp cry spilling free. His tongue moves slow, deliberate at first, then circles tighter, more insistent. My hand fists in his golden hair, tugging him closer, and he moans into me—hungry, desperate, giving me everything I demand.

Heat builds fast. Too fast. My thighs tremble, his wings twitching in time with the rhythm of his tongue. He’s unraveling me—and I take advantage, letting my power slip through, feeding on the torrent of his desire. His groan vibrates against me, and the taste of him—his life, his want—slides down my throat like dark wine.

“Cassiel,” I gasp, head falling back as the dual rush consumes me. His mouth, his hunger, my hunger feeding off each other. He sucks harder, tongue stroking the perfect rhythm, and I shatter. My hips jerk against his face, my cry breaking his name apart, and I drink deeper on the burst of bliss that pours out of him.

He doesn’t stop. Even as I writhe and tremble, he licks me through the aftershocks, tongue insistent, body trembling under the drain of my feeding. When I finally tug his hair, urging him up, his lips glisten with me.

He collapses onto the bed with me, breath harsh, wings shuddering. My body is still shivering when I wrap my armsaround him and kiss him deep, tasting myself and the power I’ve stolen, thick and electric on his tongue.

“Now,” I whisper against his mouth, dragging him down over me, “I want you inside me.”

His breath hitches, wings trembling, but he doesn’t hesitate. He presses me back onto the bed, his body covering mine. My legs part for him, my hands sliding across his chest, nails digging into the muscle as he positions himself.

“Please,” he breathes, voice ragged, as if he’s the one begging. And in a way, he is.

I smile up at him, sharp and wicked. “My sweet angel.”

He pushes into me slow at first, sinking deep until I’m stretched around him. The sound he makes is half-moan, half-prayer, muffled against my throat as he buries his face there. I arch, my power slipping free again, tasting the rush of his surrender. It rolls through me, and I drink it down.

“Temptress…” His voice breaks, but his hips don’t still. He thrusts harder, wings quivering, golden feathers brushing the walls as he loses himself.

I rake my nails down his back, catching at the base of his wings just to hear him choke on a cry. My fangs brush his throat, teasing, before I sink them in. The instant rush of his life-force floods me, thick and heady. He shudders violently, cock pulsing inside me as he gives more, as if he wants me to take everything.

I moan against his skin, his blood sweet, his power like lightning sparking through my veins. “So good,” I whisper, tightening my grip, riding his rhythm as my own climax builds again.

His hands clutch my hips, desperate, frantic. Every thrust is worship and ruin. He looks down at me, eyes fever-bright, and whispers hoarsely, “I love you.”

The words detonate inside me. My body seizes around him as I break again, my scream muffled against his throat as I drinkdeeper. His climax crashes into mine, his release hot, his body trembling violently as I take and take until his wings quake and collapse around us.

When I finally pull back, lips slick, he’s gasping, pale but smiling faintly. His eyes—soft, undone—still locked on me like I’m salvation and damnation both.

I lick his blood from my lips and kiss him slow, languid, feeding him the taste of his own surrender.

“You’ll never be free of me,” I murmur against his mouth.