Page 76 of Paramour of Sin

“You heard me,” Lord Zebulon replied as he tugged the tie from his neck. “I won’t repeat myself.”

Zane leaned against the post of a huge bed covered in black sheets. I’d been in here once before. When Lord Zebulon first kissed me. Soon after I delivered some troubling news to him about Geier and Kalida.

He’d been so angry. So alive. So full of hot emotions that I’d trembled, terrified he would kill me, and I’d fallen to my knees in worship, begging him not to release his ire upon me.

And the strangest thing had happened.

He’d told me to stand.

Then he’d read my aura and offered to help me.

I’d accepted.

It’d been the most potent kiss of my existence, underlined in such tantalizing power that I’d fallen a little bit in love with him. And every time he’d embraced me since, that desire to worship and cherish him had grown.

Kiss by kiss.

Touch by touch.

Leaving me a confused mess before him now because I wanted what he had to offer. All of it. I’d sensed him holding back over the years. He had so much more to give. An infinite energy source, grounded in heat and passion.

I licked my lips, tempted.

Not just by him, but Zane, too.

The sexy incubus exuded sex. Just like I did. Only he’d learned how to harness his gift into a sensual weapon over the centuries, his prowess an ingrained part of him that he wielded with every breath. I sensed his essence skimming my skin, teasing my nipples, and dipping between my legs.Want me,his demonic soul whispered.Crave me. Taste me. Take me.

I shivered, my succubus heart responding in kind and heightening the tension in the room.

Lord Zebulon started working on the buttons of his shirt, his molten irises holding mine. He wouldn’t repeat his demand. He’d merely wait and suffocate me on his powerful essence until I collapsed beneath his intensity.

He was essentially royalty. Just one step below a Prince of Hell. A literal king in this realm as Demonic Lord of North America.

And I stood in his bedroom wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and a bra.

No shoes.

No other clothing.

No escape.

My plan—whatever that had been—went up in flames. It burned at the vestiges of my mind, forgotten in an instant.

He slowly revealed his torso, my throat going dry at the sight.

Why am I supposed to say no?I wondered, my brain short-circuiting at the sight of that tantalizing glimpse of dark brown skin.I want to lick him.

But Zane moved first.

He sauntered over to Lord Zebulon with a casual, “Allow me, my lord,” and took over the art of undressing the proverbial king before me.

Zane’s expert hands worked through the buttons before pulling the shirt out from the trousers, and pushing the fabric from Lord Zebulon’s shoulders.

It was erotic.

Hot.

And positively sinful.