Page 65 of Wicked Believer (Original Sinner #2)

The room grows quiet and still, the universe stopping as Lucifer drops to one knee in front of me. He removes my day collar, only long enough to replace it with the new one he’s given me.

The black leather Dior calfskin is lined with metal eyelets that can be used during our scenes, and smooth white pearls hang suspended from each of the individual circlets.

It’s perfect.

Lucifer secures the collar around my throat, and from the fit, I have a suspicion it was designed for me.

He gently grips it, using it to guide me to my feet.

I rise and then he has me in his arms, smirking wickedly as he dips me so low, the ends of my hair nearly brush the floor.

He claims my mouth in a hot and feverish kiss as I moan against him.

The watching crowd lets out a round of wolf whistles and applause as I grip the lapels of his suit coat, eager to strip it off him.

Oh God. I want him inside me now .

The way he makes me feel should be illegal, it’s so unholy.

A few moments later we resurface from where we’ve lost ourselves in one another as he uses his fangs to tease and nip me. But I know it’s only a hint of the pleasure-pain that’s going to follow tonight.

“Go get undressed. I’ll be waiting,” he purrs.

I laugh as he uses my hand to spin me, twirling me once so that when I settle, I’m facing the entrance of the playroom, and Jax and Mia are there waiting for me.

My devilish bridesmaids.

They both usher me out excitedly like they’ve been waiting for this moment all night, leading me into a private corridor.

The next thing I know, I’m being trussed up like some kind of kinky present, Mia helping take my hair down and darken my makeup as she openly marvels at my tits while Jax helps me apply a pair of glittering pasties.

When I reemerge, I’m practically naked, save for the buckled contraption—er, lingerie?

—I’m wearing. Two white star-shaped pasties cover my nipples, and a white-lined garter belt—meant to signal that I’m the future bride—hold up a pair of thigh-high stockings.

Other than the cover of the sheer lace thong and brocade ivory corset that cinches the sides of my waist in, I’m basically not wearing anything, but I’ve never felt so sexy.

So open and exposed.

I look in a nearby mirror, taking it all in.

Fuck you, Dad, I think.

He’d roll over in his grave if he were able to see me. But I won’t let the shame he tried to instill in me ruin my night.

The idea of all the masquerade’s guests watching me and Lucifer is tempting.

Azmodeus was sure to make the entire guest list present STD test results that were completed within the past twenty-four hours along with leaving several massive bowls full of condoms, finger cots, nitrile gloves, and dental dams in any available corner on every floor.

He also sent me an extensive kink questionnaire he and Lucifer worked on together to be mindful of my limits during this whole thing.

Out of curiosity, I might have gone a bit wild and checked a lot of the boxes I wasn’t completely certain about without really thinking.

Including one that read threesomes and multipartner play .

My thoughts turn to Azrael.

Is that who Lucifer had in mind when he—?

I shake my head.

No. No, I’m letting my fantasies get the better of me.

What I feel for Azrael is a schoolgirl crush.

It doesn’t hold a candle to what I have with Lucifer.

I belong to Lucifer, plain and simple, and whoever he chooses to share me with.

All the guests are well-informed and signed hefty NDA agreements that require them to adhere to the stoplight system, and the dungeon monitors are here to enforce it if anyone gets out of line. I’m as safe as I possibly could be.

Jax taps me on the ass, the playful, unexpected sting causing me to laugh as we head back to the playroom. “Go get your man, Charlotte.” She grins at me. “Or should I say men ?”

“What?”

I turn to find Lucifer standing beside the exposure bench, shirtless and stripped down to only a pair of leather breaches that lace closed at the crotch.

Azmodeus stands at his side, his outfit now changed so it’s nearly identical to Lucifer’s, except for the fact that his bare ass is completely exposed, because of course whatever pants he wore would be assless.

I blink, a little confused and weirdly disappointed, if I’m honest.

Azmodeus is not who I was expecting to see.

I glimpse to where Azrael stands with his arms crossed on the other side of the room, overseeing everything, but if he’s thinking the same thing I am, he doesn’t dare show it.

His cold blue eyes lock on to mine, and I blush, trying not to think about how exposed I am in these pasties, as I turn toward Lucifer.

Suddenly the collar around my throat feels incrementally tighter.

Can he see how looking at Death made my nipples hard? Would he care?

I’m not really sure of the answer.

I make my way toward Lucifer, and when I reach him, he takes my hand in his. “You’re certain you’re ready for this?” he asks, so low only I can hear him.

I nod feebly.

We’ve never done a scene in public before or with anyone else participating, so it’s natural I would be nervous, but it’s not the thought of everyone watching that has me uneasy. Or Azmodeus. My gaze flits to Azrael again.

Why does it feel so wrong that he’s not here beside Lucifer and me?

“Yes, I’m ready,” I say giving him the verbal confirmation he’s waiting for.

“Good.” Lucifer smirks at me. “I’ll be gentle with you tonight. You know what to do.”

He gives a quick tug on my play collar, a reminder that it’s time to abandon all the polite pretenses we maintain in public. That familiar light feeling of subspace starts to bubble up inside me, and I sink into it.

I drop to my knees, and I think I hear someone in the crowd gasp—Jax maybe?—as I lower my head and gently kiss the tops of his steel-toed play boots.

“Is it time to play now, Daddy?”

“Yes, little dove.” Lucifer straps on his fingerless leather gloves as I kneel before him, patiently waiting, before his voice deepens to a seductively low register. “On the exposure bench.”

I do as I’m told, recognizing a few seconds later when I’m spread open and Azmodeus is cuffing my wrists over my head that a crowd started to gather while I changed.

Slowly, the lights dim, spotlighting Lucifer, Azmodeus, and me, until it feels like the three of us are alone.

The only face I can see directly across the crowd is . ..

Azrael’s.

Oh fuck.

I pull against my restraints a little, the voyeuristic guests chuckling a bit as they mistake it for part of the scene.

Does Lucifer know who I’m going to be staring at the entire time he does this?

I glance toward him, and his eyes darken.

He knows. He must know.

This isn’t the sort of detail that would ever escape him, which means ...

Does he want me to watch Azrael?

Lucifer’s expression doesn’t give anything away, and with the crowd of guests present, he may as well have gagged me.

My arms are suspended above my head, my hands pressed together like I’m deep in prayer, and my high-heeled feet are positioned off to the bench’s sides so that I’m open and spread wide for him.

The sheer thong I’m wearing isn’t doing much to cover my pussy, and I have no doubt Lucifer plans to rip the lingerie off me as soon as we get started anyway.

Lucifer steps back, his attention trailing over me like he’s admiring his work. “What do you think, brother? Where should we start first?”

It’s not until that exact moment I fully process that Azmodeus wasn’t just teasing me earlier. He is allowed to touch me.

Lust and Lucifer and I are going to play.

As I stare down Daddy Death.

Oh fuck, I’m not sure I can handle this.

Azmodeus comes forward, giving a similarly hungry appraisal of me like he can see all my weak points, the inner workings of my nerve endings.

“For a schoolgirl like her, start with the pussy,” Az says, licking his lips appreciatively. “Coy kittens need time to warm up before they come out to play.”

Schoolgirl?

The way he says it is so dismissive and embarrassing, it’s arousing, the sharp sting of his words whipping through me.

I’m nothing more than an object.

A nameless cunt for Lucifer and Azmodeus to take, to degrade.

And I love it.

Az looks to Lucifer, who gives a curt nod.

With Lucifer’s permission, Az pulls aside my thong to cup my pussy.

I arch into his touch, straining against where my hands are cuffed to try and get more of it.

It’s the same one he used on me in the gallery the other day—or was that a few weeks ago? —I can’t remember.

All at once, I can’t think of anything other than how much I want someone, anyone who’s willing to do the job, to fuck me, and considering it’s Azmodeus who’s currently stroking up and down the seam of my pussy, watching me in that mouthwatering way, he’s the perfect first candidate.

But even though I can’t see him at the moment, I can’t help but think of Azrael.

I can feel his gaze on me, his power shielding Lucifer and me.

Waiting. Watching. Like he always does.

Above me, Azmodeus’s eyes turn molten as his irises start to glow. Not like hellfire, but something similar.

Lust is ready to play.

He moves his fingers in just the right way so that parts of me wake up, parts I wasn’t even aware of previously, and I realize I hadn’t gotten the full blast of what Azmodeus’s touch is capable of before this.

Until now that his hand’s on my pussy, his deft fingers stroking me.

I’m so horny, I’m practically coming out of my skin.

I want him. I want all of them. One in every hole.

“Please. Please, Az,” I suddenly hear myself begging.

Azmodeus chuckles, low and deep. “Please what, naughty girl?”

I can’t bring myself to say it. To beg him to fuck me in the middle of mine and Lucifer’s engagement party. He’s trying to make me break protocol.

This is torture. Sweet fucking torture.

For my Dom’s enjoyment.