“Azriel.” His name falls from my lips, completely unbidden. A plea, a promise, a guttural sound that precedes my undoing.
I’m shaking violently, water sloshing as my back arches, and I ride out the wave crashing over me and taking me under. I can barely breathe, and I just lie there in shock, panting, as I come down from the high. It’s never felt like this before, and I’m convinced it’s because I was imagininghim.
I shake my head and drain the tub, rinsing myself, then stepping out. Making quick work of drying myself, I swipe a hand over the fogged-up mirror to look at myself. Flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and hair askew. I look like an absolute mess, yet I can’t be bothered. What stops me in my tracks and makes me purse my lips is the sight of the flame sigil carved into my flesh. The one marring the skin on my chest. It’s been there since that fateful night at the chapel. Since he owned me, took me for himself. When I first saw it, I freaked out. Well, that’s the understatement of the year. I got on my knees and prayed for hours, hoping that the proof of my defilement would disappear. But no such luck.
Now, the sight does something to me, andwhile I wish I was disgusted, instead I feel wanted. Claimed in a way I never thought I could be. It’s wrong, and I know it. So I shake my head,trying to get the sinful thoughts out of my head, and open the door.
My room is cold as I dry off and put boxer briefs on, throwing my towel on the floor and climbing into bed. My bottom lip trembles as I stare up at the ceiling, and I feel hot tears tracking down my cheeks. But I feel light years away, completely detached from my body as I apologize to God over and over.
This isn’t me.
Thiscan’tbe me.
I have to fix this somehow.
The room is bathed in darkness as I stand next to the bed where Elijah’s slumbering form lies peacefully, only the soft light of the moon slipping in through the blinds. His brows are furrowed even in sleep, and I want to smooth out the line between them and reassure him. I won’t though. That’s not why I’m here.
He called to me earlier. I heard him, and I always answer his pleas. So here I am, standing in my human form, stark naked and ready to climb into his bed and make him mine once more. He stirs, arm outstretched and resting above his head, and I take one last look at him before pulling back the covers. There, next to him, is his underwear on the bed. He must have taken it off in his sleep, and that does something to my insides that I refuse to explore at the moment.
I want to ruin his carefully crafted facade—that’s the only thing I want to focus on right now. Maybe it’s cruel of me to want to do that to someone clearly struggling with his sexuality, but I never claimed to be good. I want him to admit it to himself, tome. That he can’t get enough of this. That he wants this. Wantsme.
Climbing into bed, I carefully straddle his hips and rest my knees on the bed. Then I lower myself onto his naked cock and grind my hole against him slowly. Intense pleasure wraps itself around my limbs, and I shudder. I feel him growing hard under me, and a little whimper escapes his lips. It makes my cock rock hard, and my nostrils flare as I grind a little harder. His hands fly up to my hips, fingers digging into my flesh roughly until I’m sure my skin will be bruised later. He lifts his hips and thrusts against me, and when the head of his cock pokes my hole, his eyes flutter open. Elijah’s eyes widen upon seeing me, and I’m trying to decipher everything behind his gaze as if it’s Morse code. I see heat. Lust. Relief. But I also see fear.
Fear that it’s real.
Fear that it’s not.
His eyes slam shut, and he shakes his head, reciting scripture at a pace that is barely comprehensible, begging for God to save him. I grind my ass harder on his cock, rubbing my hole against the head, and little puffs of air escape his lips as he tries to stifle his moans but is unable to.
Ismirk. “God’s not here to save you, Little Lamb.” His eyes open once more at my words, and I circle my hips. He bites his bottom lip. “I am.”
Elijah shakes his head quickly as if trying to clear it. “I cast you out. In the name of God?—”
I chuckle lowly. “Oh, spare me your false words, Beloved. Your heart is beating louder than your prayers. I can practically taste the desire thrumming through your veins.”
“Pleaseleave,” he whispers. “This place is holy.”
I laugh low and slow, and he shivers. “Is it? You dream of me, Elijah. Every time you touch yourself in the dark, it’s my name in the back of your throat.”
“That’s a lie,” he says gruffly, tensing. “I would never?—”
“Lie to God if you have to, but don’t insult me,” I snarl. “I know what lives behind your eyes when you close them at night.Me.”
Elijah is silent.
“If you could take what you want, no guilt, no penance, no witness. Would you take it, Little Lamb?”
“I don’t know,” he whispers, barely audible.
“You do,” I affirm. “You don’t want salvation, Elijah. You want to feel something,” I whisper back, leaning in. I want to expose him, peel back his flesh and take a long, hard look. “I know you ache deep down. For something warm. Something real. You ache forme.”
“Thisisn’t who I am.”
“Isn’t it?” I taunt. “Your body betrays your prayers, Beloved. If you’re not careful, God will see your deceit.”
I shift my face and bite his neck, then lick a trail down to his chest, lapping at the sweat droplets there. It feels like a million degrees in this room, and our hot bodies pressed together is driving me out of my mind. I shift my hips and thrust my cock against his abs, and his long fingers dig into me once more.
His chest is heaving as pants escape his lips in rapid succession, and I take his nipple between my lips and suck hard, then tug with my teeth. Elijah groans, hands flying to the back of my head and holding me in place, all but begging me to keep going. To never stop.
