Page 58 of The Damned (Coven of Bones #3)

M A R G O T

I made my way toward the bed at my back, sitting on the edge and taking Beelzebub with me.

He sat beside me, looking at me with nothing but patience.

It was such a stark contrast from the man I’d assumed him to be at first, with his glowing red eyes that seemed to radiate the evils of Hell.

While I’d found the legends to be true in some ways, there were also some people I’d met along the way who had made me believe that maybe not everyone was filled with pure cruelty in spite of this place.

The Source had proven to be kind to Willow in her own way, though she’d also been pragmatic about doing whatever was necessary.

He was so different from what I’d expected him to be, more patient with me than any human male who’d attempted to get close to me.

I lifted his hand from the bed where he’d rested it, placing it on my chest just above my breast. His fingers splayed over it, covering the entirety of my collarbone with the breadth of his hand.

“I don’t have any expectations, Margot,” he said, his voice gentle as he watched me.

His hand didn’t so much as move to shift the fabric of my shirt, didn’t drop to the breasts that were right there for the taking.

“You having feelings for me and you being ready for this are two entirely different things.”

“I know I don’t have to do this,” I said, smiling at him as the truth in those words warmed me from the inside.

After everything we’d been confronted with, even with all the lust that pumped through my veins and must have constantly affected him, his priority was still making sure I was taken care of. “But I want to.”

Beelzebub studied me for a moment, his stare roaming over my face from my eyes to my mouth.

“Are you sure?” He searched me for any sign of hesitation, any second thoughts that might have disastrous effects if we tried this before I was ready.

When I nodded, he stood from the bed and towered over me, the dominance in that stance making things inside me tighten—not with fear, but with interest. “If you want something, then I need you to use your words, songbird.”

I swallowed, staring up at him in surprise.

“I’m sure,” I said, the words coming out more quietly than I’d intended.

I cleared my throat, shoving off the nerves I felt over what he may think once he’d had this from me.

It was easy to say he wanted me before he’d had me, easy to imagine the Red witch as some natural at all things sex, but what if I couldn’t live up to that expectation?

I’d never been with a man, never touched or engaged with one.

“I’m sure,” I said, forcing more certainty into my voice.

Beelzebub nodded as if he could sense the determination in me, holding out a hand for me.

“Then come with me,” he said, and I placed my hand into his in confusion.

He guided me to the bathroom at the corner of the room, leading me into the space.

He didn’t waste any time before he reached into the shower and turned the knob to hot, the sound filling the space around us.

Self-doubts crept in. Did he think I was dirty?

Did he think I needed to be cleaned before he could touch me?

It would have been a lie to say that I hadn’t spent countless nights scrubbing my skin raw in the shower in a desperate bid to erase the unwanted touch, but it had been so long.

I opened my mouth to ask the question, unable to find the words to communicate it.

If the answer wasn’t one I wanted, I didn’t know that I would be able to recover from that.

“Hey,” he said, catching my chin and pushing my mouth closed.

I realized it had been hanging open as I fumbled for the words.

“I don’t want to risk you feeling trapped beneath me in the bed, and I don’t want you to have to take the reins for your first time,” he said, and the thoughtfulness filled me with guilt.

That I’d thought him capable of thinking I was dirty, that I’d let my own insecurities tarnish his goodness all over again.

“Oh,” I said quietly, the sound quiet compared to the water plunging down from the ceiling.

The rain-shower head was at the center of the shower covered in dark gray tiles, sparks of purple glimmering within the stone like stars in the night sky.

He couldn’t know that the different setting also helped remove me from the familiarity of the bed, from the situation being too similar and becoming a trigger for me in itself.

“Just breathe, songbird,” he said, cupping the nape of my neck and leaning over me.

He kissed me, soft and slow, no sense of urgency within the touch.

He explored me like he hadn’t already gotten to know my mouth, like this was different entirely and we both knew it.

He angled his head, using his hold to guide me where he wanted me, turning me this way and that as the urgency built slowly—moving in time with the arousal he stoked within my core with nothing more than his mouth.

When I moaned into his mouth, he raised his free hand to the hem of my shirt, toying with it where it brushed against my hip.

I wrapped a hand around his neck, pulling the elastic out and letting his hair fall down to his shoulders.

He groaned into my mouth as his hand wandered higher, sliding beneath the fabric of my shirt to splay over my belly.

The muscles there contracted, a shiver running through me at his touch as he ran a single finger over the skin, tickling me as he drew a path up from my hip to my belly button.

He continued higher as I whimpered into his mouth, that finger coming to rest in the valley between my breasts.

I tugged away from him suddenly and his hand dropped without hesitation, falling out from my shirt as he stared down at me.

He wasn’t angry with me for stopping him, only concerned that he might have pushed too far.

I grinned up at him as I grabbed the hem of my shirt, tugging it over my head and tossing it to the side.

He stared at me with a smirk that was feral and all dominance, stepping toward me as I mirrored the motion.

His hand rose to my breast without hesitation this time, cupping it and testing its weight.

He kneaded the flesh lightly, running his thumb over my nipple and the piercing I’d given myself strictly because I knew the Coven wouldn’t approve.

A pang of heat shot straight from my breast to my core as I tossed my head back with a moan, his mouth dragging from the corner of my mouth to the side of my neck. Nipping me there, he ran his thumb over my nipple again and smiled when I whimpered.

“So sensitive,” he murmured, working his way in a path over my throat and collarbone.

He bent at the waist to grasp me around my thighs, lifting me up onto the bathroom vanity and setting me atop it.

His mouth continued his exploration of my collarbone, his tongue dipping into the hollow groove where it met my shoulder.

He switched his hand to my other breast, giving it the same attention he had the previous one as his breath trailed down over the swell.

“These piercings will be the death of me,” he murmured as he gazed up at me.

I placed my hands on the counter behind me, leaning back into them.

The movement put my breasts on display, allowing me to watch as he wrapped his lips around my nipple.

His tongue toyed with the edges of the barbell, making me quiver as I watched him.

Those red eyes held mine as he worked it over, gliding his hand down over my stomach.

I writhed as he trailed a path, tormenting me with each and every moment of touch until he found the waistband of my pants.

He released my breast as he dragged my pants down as far as he could, lifting a brow at me when I didn’t move.

“Lift,” he ordered, and I leaned farther back into my hands as I raised my hips off the counter.

Tugging my pants down slowly, he watched the muscles of my stomach work as I fought to keep my ass raised.

When he’d finally cleared the swell of my ass, I sat back down and shivered at the feeling of the cold counter against my bare skin.

He’d taken my panties with my pants, and dragged them down my legs until he reached my boots.

He rid me of both as he kicked off his own boots and socks, shoving everything to the corner by the door so it was out of his way.

When that heated gaze landed on me once again, he trailed it over me from head to toe in a slow, languid study.

He touched a hand to my chest beneath my throat, his thumb and forefinger brushing against either side as he cupped it in the webbed part between them.

I swallowed against the touch, but couldn’t deny the way my breathing quickened in response.

Beelzebub tipped his head to the side as he used his free hand to shove my legs apart, gliding his body into the gap he created.

He raised his other hand a fraction higher, encircling the front of my neck in his hand.

There was no pressure to the touch yet, just a promise of what was to come if I could take it.

And I wanted to take it. I wanted to take anything he would give me, give him anything he wanted. The desire to please him was overwhelming, threatening to consume me if I wasn’t careful.