Page 54

Chapter 53

Let Them See

Jemma

“O kay, he’s been gone a really bloody long time.” I pressed my hands together, squeezing my knees around them as I eyed the empty pizza boxes on the coffee table, the remnants of a late-night dinner. The glimmer of sunrise from the window behind me hit a glob of melted cheese, and it glowed as if it were radioactive. “It’s been a whole night, and he’s not back. What if?—”

“Calm down, Jem,” Joe soothed, patting my head in a sort of awkward, brotherly way. “I’m sure everything is fine.”

I eyed him incredulously. “Oh? You, who literally knew nothing about any of this until like, yesterday, are certain that my devil boyfriend, whose sister is out to punish him, and who disappeared to Heaven—even though he’s the Son of Satan—he’s just fine? Everything’s just hunky dory?”

I jumped to my feet, ignoring the way that Ezra, Humphrey and Joe exchanged a loaded glance. I was too full of nervous energy to sit still a second longer. “What if he’s been taken prisoner by God? I doubt She’d be all that keen on having a Lucifer just dropping by with a stray soul. Or … what if he’s gone to confront his sister … and she used her wind on him?”

I sucked in a breath, flapping my hands, the need to do something … anything … with them undeniable.

“Jemma Bliss, if Boss was in true danger, Bub and me’d sense it,” Beezle barked. He’d taken his guard hound duties very seriously, having not left his station in the middle of the living room all night. “And we haven’t heard so much as a peep from Bub—he’s still in his little love bubble with Luci in their happy hammock.”

I gnawed on my lip. “But … what if he was in just a little bit of danger? Like, not enough for you to feel it, but enough for him not to be able to get back to us …” I sucked in another breath. “Holy Hell, I think I might be having a panic attack.” I bent double, resting my hands on my knees and trying to take deep breaths through lungs that felt as if they were shrinking. “I can’t cope with him being in even a little bit of danger!”

“He’s a big boy, Jemma,” Ezra reminded me, his hand soothing along my spine. “He is more than capable of coping with a little bit of danger.”

“But I don’t want him to have to cope with danger!” I wailed. “I want him safe! And here with me! I want him back here with me …” I sucked desperately for air as a pounding sound thudded in my brain. Or was it the front door?

It was definitely the front door.

“Will someone please answer that?” I begged, rubbing at my forehead. The events of the last twenty-four hours were really starting to catch up with me. “Oh crap!” I squawked, scrambling for the coffee table. “What if it’s the landlord? We need to tidy up!”

I hurriedly stacked the pizza boxes and scooped them up, turning towards the kitchen. “Shit … shit! Do you think I can just stuff these in the?—”

“Hello, Mouse.”

I froze, my lips parting on a shocked gasp.

He stood in the doorway, his human form exuding all that sexy fanfiction Draco Malfoy mojo. His eyes were the most intense silver, and they gobbled me up, leaving me trembling. He looked immaculate in dark grey, butt-hugging jeans and a black shirt, unbuttoned at the collar.

And in his arms, he held the biggest box of gluten-free donuts I’d seen since … well, since he taunted me with his eighty donuts that first day we met.

“I brought donuts,” he explained, his voice sheepish, earnest.

“I …” I blathered, but no other words would come out. I drank him in, standing there like a fool with a pile of empty pizza boxes in my arms.

“I think I need to go home … take a shower … call work and tell them I’m taking a personal day,” Joe mumbled, all but sprinting for the door. “I’ll call you later, Jem, once you’ve … yeah …”

And he disappeared.

“Oh! I just realised that I have an … a very early pottery class to teach!” Humphrey blurted. “And … Ez, didn’t you say you wanted to come along? Your throwing needs some serious work!”

Ezra coughed, but I couldn’t drag my eyes from SJ, who waited just inside the door, holding his donuts, gazing at me like he wanted to simultaneously devour me and wrap me up in a warm embrace.

“Uh, yeah, I definitely need to practice,” Ezra grunted. And then he was moving past me, gently extricating the pile of pizza boxes from my clawing grip. “I’ll take these down to the bin on our way out,” he murmured.

The door closed behind them, and their footsteps receded down the stairs. I sucked in a ragged breath. SJ stood, rooted to the spot just inside the door.

“I … have so much that I need to?—”

I launched myself at him, knocking him against the entry table. The replacement vase that Humphrey had made tumbled to the floor with a crash. I ignored it, too frustrated that I couldn’t get close enough. The bloody donut box was in the way!

“Give me that!” I snapped, snatching the thing from him.

A wary chuckle burst out of him. “Are you that desperate for donuts?”

I tossed the box onto the coffee table, grabbed him by the collar and dragged him down to me. “I’m that desperate for you , you silly devil!” I mumbled against his mouth. “Make-up sex first, donuts for dessert.”

And then I kissed him. Deeply … desperately … messily. I gripped the back of his neck like it was a lifeline and licked the seam of his lips until he opened on a groan, taking my mouth with the hunger I’d seen in his eyes just moments ago.

He nipped at my bottom lip, soothing it with his tongue and then plundering my mouth, his palms pressing the small of my back until my hips met his body, his bulge insistent against me. My hands made their way over the broadness of his shoulders, finding the buttons of his shirt and fumbling them open, tugging it off.

The feel of those firm pecs, the ridges of muscle rippling in his stomach as I dragged my fingers over them, was divine. Until he stilled my questing hands, caging my wrists in his grip.

“I missed you,” he rasped into my mouth before tangling his tongue with mine, teasing and flicking until I was a shaking, needy mess in his arms. And then he worked his way across my cheek, finding my earlobe and sucking it into his mouth until I moaned.

“However, I need to apologise for … all the awful things,” he murmured into my ear.

“Like I said,” I mumbled, breaking free from his grasp and reaching up to twist my fingers in his hair. I tugged him down until his forehead met mine. “I’m ready to make up. And if you feel the need to grovel …” I hooked a leg around his hip, and like the good boy he was, he cupped my butt and lifted me so I was wrapped around him properly. “Do it with actions, not words.”

His gaze searched mine for an interminable second, and slowly, tantalisingly, his eyes darkened, his lips parting on a tiny smile.

“As you wish,” he growled, his mouth crashing into mine, swallowing my moan. He kneaded my butt, grinding his erection against my desperate body before he strode across the room. The morning light warmed my back as he set me down by the window. I barely had a chance to take in the devious intent in his eyes when he spun me until I was facing the glass, pressing himself against my back as I stared down at the waking city street below.

“What are you … oh!”

His lips nuzzled my neck, and his fingers curled up under my T-shirt, finding all the sensitive, ticklish spots on my ribs. But what he was doing was the opposite of tickling, and it had achy heat pooling between my legs.

“I’m grovelling, Mouse. Arms up,” he rumbled, and I rushed to comply, my shirt disappearing over my head, tossed away.

“And to think I might never have gotten to worship these again,” he rumbled, his breath hot on my shoulder, his teeth grazing me there as his big, warm palms made their way up my torso, cupping my breasts through my thin bra. I arched to his touch, my nipples pebbling.

A ragged groan vibrated against my shoulder when his fingers found them, strumming over the straining points, and his cock pulsed against the small of my back. “I was a fool to ever think I could live without this … without you.”

“How much practice have you had at grovelling?” I demanded breathily as he found the front clasp on my bra and popped it. My breasts fell free, heavy and aching and …

“Oh … I need you to be a bad boy more often if this is what I get when you need to apologise,” I grated, biting my lip as he sucked gently at the spot where my neck met my shoulder while simultaneously rolling my nipples in his talented fingers until all I could feel was the livewire connecting those nerves to the ones between my legs. Both of which were pulsing insistently.

“I will do whatever you want, Jemma,” he whispered against my neck. “Anything to make you happy. Always.”

Such sweet words, and said as one very naughty hand snaked down my front, trailing my stomach until it dipped and shuddered, sneaking further down, fingers brushing my inner thigh, slipping up under my skirt …

“Oh … please!” I begged when he pressed one naughty finger inside my underwear, tracing the seam of my pussy.

“Soaked for me, Mouse. Put your hands on the glass.” With one knee, he knocked my legs apart, his other hand still pinching and teasing my aching nipple while he circled my clit with agonisingly gentle strokes.

I did as I was told. Outside, three floors down, a woman was on her morning run. A man stepped out of the convenience store across the road, lighting up a cigarette and glancing up as he blew out the smoke.

Could he see me? Topless and wanton?

“SJ,” I mumbled, adrenaline spiking at the thought. “People might be able to—ooooh!”

I quaked as his finger breached me, his thumb swiping down over my throbbing clit. His cock jerked against my back as he pinned me between his heat and the cool glass. He worked me over with those clever fingers of his until I didn’t care if the smoking man was getting a free X-rated show.

“Let them see,” he rasped against my ear, his thumb finding the perfect pressure, the most delicious rhythm against my clit, one finger pumping into me, then two, curling, pressing and making my vision start to blur. “Let the whole bloody city look up and see me claiming my female.”

My body coiled tighter, an ache deep within that was spiralling towards the precipice, thanks to his dirty words … his perfect caresses. He pressed down on my clit, and my breath scissored, my tummy fluttered …

“So close,” I breathed, my fingers clawing in vain at the smooth glass. He kissed up under my jaw, soft, adoring presses of his lips, and a pinch to my nipple that ripped a feral moan from me, my pussy clenching his thrusting fingers, my pleasure soaring towards a peak higher than any I could recall. One more pulse of his fingers inside me, and I was nothing but sensation, a panting, quivering, pulsing mess, crying out his name as he wrung my orgasm from me.

“You’re perfect,” he grated, his fingers moving inside me, pulling shudder after shudder from my core. “My perfect Jemma, so ready to take my cock, right here in the morning sun.”

“Yes,” was all I could manage as his fingers slipped from my fluttering pussy, the sounds of his pants being undone, shimmying down his legs, as he caressed my breast with his free hand.

With a gentle press of his hand to my back, he bent me, releasing my breast to slide his fingers reverently over my waist, my butt. He tugged my skirt up over my hips, sliding my soaked panties down to my knees. Arousal trickled from me, and I pressed back, the length of his cock slipping along my wetness.

“Greedy girl,” he crooned, both hands gripping my backside, spreading me. “I recall you quite enjoy this sensation.”

A dirty moan ripped out of me as he gathered arousal, finding my rear entrance and rubbing in teasing circles. “SJ … oh … please!”

“You want my cock and my fingers, don’t you?” he growled, his cock pulsing against my soaked flesh. “Ask me for it, Mouse.”

“I want both, please, SJ!” I begged, rocking to try and get his cock to slip inside my aching pussy. With a growl, he notched himself into place and thrust.

“Oh!” I went up on my tiptoes, aching all over again at the stretch of him inside me. His fingers dug into my hip, and he let out a pained hiss.

“I am about to humiliate myself, Jemma,” he grated, his cock pulsing in me. “It seems I am unable to get inside you without immediately needing to spill.”

“Well …” I panted, wriggling on him, that stretch turning to a desperate ache, a need for him to move in me. “You do have that mystical semen …”

“I would … just once … like to bring you off with my cock alone … I am not without skills in that department.”

I giggled, and he groaned again, his finger pressing into my backside. My laughter turned to a throaty moan. “Well, just pretend you’re a human male.”

He inhaled sharply, even as his finger continued that torturous massage, slowly intensifying the throb building inside me. “And … what might a human male do in this situation?”

“Think of something super icky to try and stave it off?” I suggested, cheekily wriggling on him. “I’ve heard that some men count by sevens … you know, to give them something to focus on that isn’t the tight, hot … slippery pussy they’re gloved inside.”

“You are a menace, Jemma Bliss,” he rumbled, but his grip on my hip shifted, coming around to tuck under my belly. He drew back and then thrust, the sheer depth of him inside me making me squeak.

“There’s my Mouse,” he chuckled, doing it again. And then rocking his hips, stirring himself in me, as his finger breached my backside. I panted as he withdrew again and found a rhythm that was pure torment, slowly but inexorably pushing me towards the edge with the hot slide of his cock, and the dirty press of that finger.

“What happened to humiliating yourself?” I gasped, my pussy tightening, heat flooding down my legs and through my belly. “This is … oh!” He hit me in a spot that had me seeing stars, pushing me to the precipice of a mind-blowing climax but somehow holding me there. “What are you doing to me?”

“I already told you … I’m grovelling, Mouse,” he breathed, and he rocked into me again. “And as for holding back my humiliation … I just reminded myself that your pleasure is the only thing that matters to me right now.”

“SJ, I …” I broke off with a sob as he rocked once more, and I fell over the edge, my pussy squeezing desperately around him as wave after wave of pleasure swamped me.

“Good girl,” he rumbled, his finger slipping from my backside, gripping my hips as he pounded into me, once, twice, and with a roar, he let himself go. And I followed him, the heat of him inside me sending me soaring once more, the suddenness of the pleasure so intense I saw stars.

As he slowed, he pulled my sweaty, far too well-pleasured body back against him, wrapping his arms around my waist.

“Well, that was some top-notch grovelling,” I mumbled, tilting my head and reaching up to cup his neck, pulling him down until I could brush my lips against his. He kissed me softly, then leaned back, his eyes glistening, intent on mine.

“My beautiful, brave, clever, funny Mouse,” he praised softly. I grinned in satisfaction up at him. His lips found my cheekbone, planting a tender kiss there.

“My … dearest love.”

The words reverberated against my skin, soaking through the layers of me, slowly inching their way into my orgasm-muddled brain.

“SJ … you …”

“I love you, Jemma Bliss. More than I ever thought I was capable of. More than my kingdom. More than my own life.”

His cock was already hard again—that devil stamina was going to be the death of me (but I’d die so bloody happy). He slipped from my still fluttering pussy, and he turned me, lifted me into his arms, cradling me against his broad chest.

“And I’m not finished making up with you yet.”

I grinned, the sudden lump in my throat preventing me from talking as he strode down the hallway and into my bedroom.

Our bedroom.