“Where the fuck are you going?”
I glance over my shoulder and give him a rare smile. “I’m going to play with my toy.”
Chapter Twenty
Hevan
The knock on the door comes as I’m drifting out of another dream. How is it possible to do so little yet be so utterly exhausted? Azrael has fucked me at night for the past two days and not once has he invited me to dinner again, nor has he lingered for too long after sex. Instead, he leaves me feeling used and disposable.
Each night, he leaves his black shirt on the chair beside my bed, with the discarded one being taken away each morning. It’s like a silent command of his, and of course I comply; it’s nothing to do with the scent of his aftershave and masculinity washing over my skin as I slip it on, or the way I’m comforted when I settle inside his shirt, knowing his warmth has touched the fabric that now touches me. Nope, nothing to do with that, and only to do with the fact I have nothing else to wear.
When the woman Azrael refers to as Elizabeth pushes open the door, I startle. She’s already brought dinner and collected the tray. She places a small box on the bed. “Sirasked you to wear this tonight.” She leaves the room without any eye contact. The urge to call after her or to pull her toward me and demand she speak with me is insane; it’s an internal battle. I don’t want to get her in trouble; she’s clearly had instructions not to speak to me. Nor do I particularly want to be friends with her; she gives off a hatred vibe I don’t like. But maybe this could be a way of making an ally or receiving help and a way out of here. The thought of Azrael’s father hurting me, or being placed in one of his clubs consumes my daily thoughts.
I need a way out.
After slipping the ribbon off the red box, I unwrap the red tissue paper. I don’t know what I expect as I open the gift, but it isn’t a pair of panties. I hold up the G-string, and confusion flows through me. What the hell? They seem heavier than they should be. On further inspection, I detect something in the groin, a circular rigid object.
“It’s a vibrator for your clit.” I jump, not realizing he’s entered the room. “Put them on.” He motions toward the panties.
Unable to look away from his commanding aura, I watch as he walks over to the bed and places two pillows in the center, then he takes a seat in the chair in the room’s corner and unbuttons his shirt. Seeing him naked is one of my favorite things; the man is pure dominance. Every ridge of his muscles looks like hand-carved perfection. I want to explore his many tattoos, scars, slash marks, stitch marks, bullet wounds, first with my fingers, then with my tongue. I want to know about the black wings tattooed on his back, about the slash marks on the top of his ass and over his hips.
Everything; I want to discover Azrael Carrera and his darkness, but I’m afraid I won’t survive it. Lost in the abyss, a cavern of his eternal monsters.
I’m sure he expects me to protest, but I’m equal parts intrigued and bored. If I’m going to get an orgasm out of this, then it’s one I deserve.
I bend to slip them on, but his deadly tone halts me. “Lose the shirt. I want to see properly when you put them on.”
Of course he does.I roll my eyes with a huff, and I can sense his smirk from over here. Even hidden in the shadows, I can sense him, his movements and expressions. At some point, it’s like we’ve become one. I don’t know where his darkness starts and my light ends.
My fingers tremble with each push of a button, then I move on to the next. “Turn and face me as you do it.” I comply, watching him as intensely as he watches me.
The deadly aura emanating from him sends a thrill down my spine and causes wetness to rush between my legs.
I don’t know what he has planned tonight, but this feels different; this feels more, and I welcome it.
Azrael
She bends to slip the panties on, and her perky tits jiggle from side to side.Jesus, she’s stunning.My bite marks litter her skin, and I long to add to them, then lick them with gratitude once I’ve filled her.
My cock is at full mast, leaking with a need only she can satiate.
The women at the club tonight were hungry and begging for it, but all I could think about was returning home to my little toy—the one untouched by all others, my own private little heaven amid my hell.
She stands at full height; five-foot-three at most, and the panties do nothing to hide her arousal seeping from between her thighs. Little Toy might act like I disgust her and she doesn’t want to be here, but she craves me, maybe as much as I crave her, and I relish the thought.
Are her days haunted with images of me forcing her pleasure from her delectable body like mine are?
“Get on the bed and mount the pillow.”
A shocked choke leaves her. “What?”
I lift my chin. “On the bed, straddle the pillows. I want your ass facing me.” The mirror opposite her will reflect her face back at me, and I will have the perfect view of my toy from both angles.
“For what?”
Irritation zips up my spine.Does she always have to have a comeback?
My hands ball into fists. “Now!”
