His hands slip under my jacket, pulling it off, then skate under my tank, tearing it over my head. His black shirt disappears, then he tugs me against him, our hot flesh colliding. He wraps one arm around me and tangles the other in my hair, dragging my head back as he drops his mouth to my breast. He tugs on my delicate flesh through the silk of my bra, the friction making me squirm as he gives my other breast the same attention. My eyes fall closed, a breathless moan escapes my throat and I bury my hands in his hair, pulling on the strands in silent demand.
A rush of air has my eyes springing open. I blink as gigantic wings flex around us. I reach out and run my hands along the deepest of blue feathers, tracing the pattern to the fiery edges. He shudders. “So soft,” I mumble as his swirling gold eyes track my every movement. His hands clutch my sides, then trace a path up my spine, sending my heart wild. My bra falls to the floor and he smirks at me as my eyes fly open.
“Just breathe, Natia,” he mutters. He pushes against the center of my spine. A ripple of tension snaps my vertebrae straight, then my wings explode from my back, pushing against his own. He curls his tighter, the caress of feathers against feathers making me suck in a breath.
Sparks of intense pleasure race from my wings down my spine and stop at my clit as if they are linked. “Each wing holds a nerve ending linked directly to your core. Caressed in the right way, you will feel the power of a hundred orgasms.”
Laughter tumbles out of my lips. I barely survived the pleasure he already held over my body; now he was going to weaponize my new wings in his sensual assault. But did that mean? I flex my wings, running the tips along the underside of his. He groans and grips my ass, pulling me impossibly close. Our mouths collide; tongues forging a battle where both of us win. My heart skips beats as it tries to process the adrenaline. A loud cough snaps me out of the haze and tempers my arousal.
“Soon would be good,” Zee mumbles.
Archan pushes his forehead against mine. “It’s just us,” he whispers.
“Yeah sure, and the other few thousand people, which include my best friends.”
“What do you need?” he asks.
“Ideally a bedroom, music, candles, flowers, and a bottle of champagne.”
“I’m not exactly the flowers and candles type,” he mutters, running his nose up my neck to my ear, before clamping down his teeth. I suck in a breath. Each pound of my heart makes our audience seem less significant. Music thumps in the air, as the seductive voice from Thirty Seconds to Mars sings “Dangerous Night”.
He wraps his hands around my thighs and lifts me onto the altar, his body caging me to the table. The cool stone contrasts with the molten heat he curves around my stomach, one branch stretching out between my breasts, the other sinking lower. My breath catches at the sensation of being caressed beneath my pants and the lust and need comes roaring back with a vengeance. I grab his shoulders and kiss down his chest, swirling my tongue along the tattoos whilst wriggling my body against his erection. His muscles bunch under my attention.
He grips my hips. “Slow down.”
My mind fogs over with the need to have him inside me. My movements are restless as I try to figure out how to get naked without letting go of him. “I need you,” I say as I fumble to undo his pants. His cock springs free and falls heavy into my hand. I squeeze the steel length, my fingers not touching.
His jaw ticks. “Ninety percent of lust is about the buildup, not the act itself.”
“Fuck that,” I mumble, wriggling down his body. His cock glides between my breasts before he figures out my intention. He grabs my wrists and pins them above my head, the stretch edging on the delicious side of pain. I glance up and meet his molten gaze as I dart my tongue out and lick the tip of his cock, savoring the glistening pre-cum.
“Bloody hell,” Lucifer whispers.
My mouth descends upon Archan and I relax my jaw, trying to swallow every delicious inch. Impossible, but I give it my best shot. His free hand shoots into my hair, pinning my head to the stone as I greedily lick and devour him.
“Fucking hell, Natia,” he mumbles whilst thrusting into my mouth, the tip breaching my throat. “You know you don’t need oxygen?”
I glance up at him. His eyes bore into my soul. He holds my head, then thrusts deep. My brain senses the danger as he blocks my airway. He forces himself further and further until I’ve taken every inch of him. My hands wriggle in his unyielding grasp. He studies me with a look of determination, the message clear: He’s in control, or so he thinks. I relax and swallow, sucking him in even further.
He tightens his grip in my hair, the sting driving my need higher. “Trying to top from the bottom?” he mutters. I let my dancing eyes do all the talking. He might have a need for control, but the power in our relationship goes both ways. My death broke him; that tells me everything I need to know.
“Have it your way,” he says, yanking my head away and dragging me back up the altar. He slams his lips against mine, reaches down and tears my leather pants in half. He rips my panties off my body and slams inside of me. My breath catches in my throat at the pain from the sudden stretch. He moves, pulling out slowly and pushing in to fill me completely. The fabric of his pants rubs against me, heightening the raw passion between us. I throw my head back and arch my back; my wings quiver in pleasure, brushing against skin which sends tiny electrical pulses skittering over my body. My head snaps to the side. Zee’s heavy lidded green gaze bores into mine. My eyes drop to his hand fisted around his cock whilst the other is caressing the edge of my wing. Heat floods my core. I feel wanton, desired, powerful… I feel like a goddess.
The lights flicker around us. “Eyes on me, Natia,” Archan growls, wrapping his hand around my throat as his gaze devours me. His hands caress the edges of my wings, sending electric shocks to my core. I can feel myself tightening around his steel length.
He smirks as I narrow my eyes. “You want his cock inside you?”
I shake my head. He rewards me with a punch of his cock, making me suck in a breath.
“Who owns you?” he says, stopping his thrusts.
“No one,” I whisper.
Archan drags his cock out of me, leaving only a teasing amount. His thrusts are slow and shallow. They are fucking torture.
“I am yours, and you are mine,” I clarify. “No one owns anyone, but I give myself freely to you.”
“That’s right, Natia, every fucking inch, every thought, every desire—all mine.” He grabs my ankles and wraps them around him. “Lock these tight,” he instructs. He pushes in so deep it feels like he’s trying to rearrange my very being. We get lost in the push and pull. Sweat coats our skin as he takes the precipice higher, promising a hell of a dive.
