My torn sweater ripples around me, and the breeze tickles my exposed back. Shivering, I sense Zuriel’s presence behind me. I’m midway through the graveyard, dodging between old moss-covered monuments when a realization occurs.
He’s no longer trying to catch me. He’s just following.
Gasping, exhausted, and inhaling sharply, I reach one of the monument’s walls and twist to face him.
The next instant, I’m encaged. His massive body drops from above and captures me within an arc of wings.
I tear into him, thrashing at his neck, his shoulders, and his arms. My hands fly as his scent unfolds, masculine and rich, brimstone and spicy, otherworldly and unplaceable. His fists grind into the monument’s walls on either side of my head as he leans forward, a deep groan leaving his lips. It slides into me, erupting my nerves with quickening thrills. His lust is mine.
He caught me.
“Please,” I beg, with no idea what I’m begging for anymore. I’m flushed, burning, and the cool night air no longer tempers me. “I need, I need…” I gasp in a breath and grip my chest.
He rests his brow on the wall above my head as I strain my neck to behold his wrenched expression. He’s so musculature and strong, so monstrous and unreal, I feel minuscule.
The light from his cock illuminates us and ensconced in his wings it’s like we’re in a world of our own. Even the bats have given us privacy.
He presses his cock—his light—against my stomach. “Summer,” he rasps my name.
His member is hot and hard, and my wild hands drop down to wrap around it as I sway my hips back and forth.
“I need you,” I cry.
What is happening?
The moment the question streaks through me again, I know he’s thinking it too.
He thrusts away. My grip on him tightens.
“Summer,” his voice is bewildered. “We need to—”
Missing the cage of his body, I lean into him, tugging him in my hold, kneading his length with my grasp.
My touch is rewarded with a grunt, and his eyes glint with golden fire. It lights his fierce, predatory features and the lust in his gaze—his shock.
He’s fearsome, the stuff made of midnight dreams and vintage horror movies. His blue-black skin, his curved horns, and his long hair give him the appearance of a gargoyle, but underneath, he’s all male. His cock throbs within my grip. My gaze drops upon it.
I lick my lips at the sight, my slender hands squeezing his member. It’s warm and taut.
Golden light bleeds out between my fingers. Fingers that barely wrap around his girth, digging into deep ridges on his underside that lead directly to two heavy oval-shaped testicles where the light deepens to near crimson. With his shaft slightly tapered, his tip bulges out like a mushroom so firm it only gives when I push the pads of my fingers into it.
Gasping, he rumbles my name, sending delicious chills straight to my core.
His hands drape across my shoulders, first combing my loosened locks before wandering under the torn sweater as I explore him, his claws scratching into my skin.
I run my fingers up and down his length. They’re hungry, and my hands feast on him.
“Zuriel,” I moan.
He growls and clutches my chin, making me face him. He snarls, revealing fangs. “Do not invoke me with lust, female. You play with me. With forces neither of us knows enough about.” He thrusts slightly into my hands.
“Then play with me.”
Still holding my chin, he yanks my hands off of him with his other hand and clutches my wrists, restraining them between us. “You are not thinking straight.”
I stand on my toes. “Neither are you.”
His lips twist. His expression darkens with raging lust. He’s close to breaking. I can break him. If I can break him, then he can shatter me, and then maybe…
