Page 170 of Wicked Believer

Fuck, it undoes me.

I don’t bother taking stock of who’s noticed us making eyes at each other, not that I give a shit if anyone sees as I reach down andadjust the hefty bulge at the front of my jeans. Charlotte’s eyes track the movement, her tongue darting out to wet her lips appreciatively.

Can she see how hard I am from where she’s laid out for Lucifer like a present?

Fuck. What are you doing to me?

I’ve had to gnash and grind my teeth practically into dust to stop myself from walking back over there and demanding that little shit Azmodeus get the fuck out of my way. He may be lust itself, but I’m confident I could make her moan so much better.

Shit. This is a helluva lot more than I bargained for when Lucifer first offered her as part of his deal with me. Honestly, I hadn’t put that much thought in it other than to feel sorry for her that he was willing to share her so readily. Now I can see why.

I’m the unexpected choice neither of them saw coming.

But whatever attraction I may feel for her now wasn’t a consideration initially.

Despite what my pompous ex might think.

My eyes fall to where he’s just finished inside her, his face and the five o’clock shadow on his chin still glistening from where he feasted on her cunt. I know what it’s like to have his tongue on me, his cock inside me balls-deep, pushed to the hilt.

Even if we haven’t fucked in over a century.

I still remember the feeling—what it’s like to be the object of his desire, pinned beneath his fiery gaze. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t expected to feel jealous as all fucking get out when I chose to come here tonight and subject myself to playing dungeon monitor for this whole goddamn charade. But it’s the revelation of exactlywhoI’m jealous of that surprises me most.

Azmodeus, that lustful fucker, is in my place.

How I know that it should be me who’s pounding into Charlotte’s ass right now, locking eyes with Lucifer, instead of trying to look the other way is a question for another day, but I’m as old and infinite as the universe.

And I’ve learned never to doubt myself.

I’m my own master.

Death yields to nobody.

Charlotte’s eyes continue to hold mine, my hard cock giving a painful jerk.

Shit. The fact I’m even considering fucking with their dynamic when they’re so clearly meant for one another shows just how far gone I am. Fucked in the head. Delusional. Mad as a goddamn hatter. I’ve spent the last century picking up the pieces of myself that Lucifer left scattered in his wake. Swore I would never allow anyone to hold that kind of power over me ever again. And what do I do the first time he summons me back?

Jump at the chance to be in his periphery.

He’s the goddamn sun, and like all the other predictable little stars in the universe, I’m helplessly drawn into his orbit.

Except the reason he and I never worked is probably because he’s been destined for someone else this whole goddamn time.

Fuck, fate hates me.

The desire in Charlotte’s eyes softens this time as she looks at me, like even from where she’s strung up on the other side of the room, she can see the rare glimpse of vulnerability that watching them creates in me, the mixture of pain and pleasure at seeing them together. I’d thought the ache of losing him was long gone, until I first held her in my arms.

Now, I realize I’d simply buried it, and every time I’m with her it’s like she’s excavating those parts of me. Laying me bare so those old wounds are given the air and space to heal. Those innocent doe eyes of hers disrupt any vague sense I had of my own gravity.

A little like someone else I know.

Lucifer’s brows lift slightly as he watches Charlotte’s face, like he’s just now noticing that she isn’t looking athim, but at me. My ex is the ultimate fucking narcissist, but everyone fucking loves him for it,Charlotte and me included. His eyes track to where she’s been staring into the crowd, following her gaze until it lands on me.

I turn my back before either of us have the chance to register how we feel about that, easily shouldering my way through the crowd.

Most humans fear me. If they can even bear the sight of me, that is.

But it isn’t the potential for Lucifer’s fist to land in my face for looking at his woman that I fear.