Page 46 of Wicked Believer

I nod, leaning into his touch, unable to resist closing the gap between us.

He’s told me this before, but I ... think today is the first time I fully understand what that means.

He feasts on me for a moment, his tongue laying siege against my mouth and his hands at my breasts, until a few seconds later I’m rocking and moaning against him, practically begging.

“Please, sir?” I whimper.

I want him inside me.

“Is it playtime, Daddy?”

“First on your knees,” he orders, gripping me by the hair and lifting me from his lap, only to force me down onto the floor before him. A devilish smirk crosses his lips as I take out his cock, running my tongue along the thick vein that pulses near the head. “I’m feeling particularly indulgent this morning.”

Chapter Sixteen

Charlotte

I can still taste the salt of Lucifer’s cum on my lips when I stumble out of the penthouse nearly a half hour later. I’m running late, the car already waiting, and my ass is redder than it’s ever been from where he bent me over the dining room table, and ...

“Nothing like a fresh fuck to start the day,hmm?” An audible sip follows, but it’s the too-handsome face that accompanies it that stops me.

Azmodeus leans against the outside of the building, smiling appreciatively at me as he drinks from a disposable coffee cup. Though he looks more like Lucifer than any of their other siblings, the resemblance stops at the fact that he’s so painfully beautiful, it’s almost obscene. And there’s something surprisingly relaxed about him these days that seems distinctly different from Lucifer.

Like he doesn’t carry the weight of the world on his shoulders like his older brother does.

I pause on my path to the Town Car and turn to him. With both of us out on the street, the paparazzi who are constantly positioned outside 172 Madison Avenue are more desperate than ever.

They shout both our names. “Azmodeus! Charlotte! Give us a smile, will ya?”

A few members of the security team are the only thing that stands between us and them.

Az glances toward them, nodding with a cheeky grin. “Care to throw them a bone?” His gaze rakes over me. Exactly how he can make the dress he’s wearing look masculine and sexy is beyond me. “Or have you already been boned enough by my brother this morning?”

“Do youhaveto make a sex pun with every other breath?” I let out an annoyed huff.

“Of course.” He wrinkles his nose, feigning offense. “It’s in my nature.” He smirks, and I scoff.

I don’t have time for this. Not today. I have to be at Xzander’s studio in a handful of minutes, and Manhattan traffic is its own kind of hell. Plus, we’ll need to circle the block a few times to throw the paparazzi off our tail. Speaking of which ...

Where the hell is Olivia this morning?

I sigh, rolling my eyes as I wrap my vintage Alexander McQueen coat tighter around myself. “Lucifer is upstairs,” I say coolly, my voice low and private as I move to step away, but Az’s hand is on my arm, stopping me.

“You two have become my favorite power couple, you know?” He drops his voice as he leans down and whispers into my ear. “What are we up to now—twice, sometimes three times a day?” He eases back. “My skin has never looked this goddamn radiant.”

I pause, glancing toward him. And he’s right.

His skindoeslook really fucking great.

Not that Azmodeus would ever be caught dead looking like anything less than perfection. He’s the city’s favorite pansexual playboy. Lusty polyamorous love life and all.

I sigh again. “Is it really necessary for you to comment on mine and Lucifer’s sex life every time we meet?”

“No.” He shrugs, smiling deviously. “But I appreciate the offerings all the same, lovey.”

According to Lucifer, that’s how it works. Commit the sin, and more power is funneled to the corresponding Original. Like an offering.

Or some kind of strange divine currency.