“Then come for me. Let me see how much you love being at my mercy.”
I pump my fingers faster, flicking my tongue over the hardened nub at the apex of her thighs, until she shudders and lets out a wailing moan. Simone’s muscles contract, her channel squeezing mydigits… then she comes with a shout of relief, soaking my hand and the mattress underneath. I move my mouth to her squirting hole, enjoying her divine flavor. We may be in Hell and descended from demons, but I plan on taking her to Heaven several times before she begs me to stop.
“There you go,” I murmur when the spasms begin to abate. “Now, let’s continue, shall we?”
14
SIMONE
Iblink at the handsome creature between my legs, his mouth glistening with my arousal. My face is hot from embarrassment. I can’t believe I just squirted for my kidnapper. The smug, infuriatingly beautiful bastard knows just how I’m feeling, I can tell by the evil glint in his eyes.
“What do you mean?” I ask him, hating how breathless my voice sounds. This is where he uses me for his pleasure, isn’t it? Where he feels like I owe him. Where he takes what he wants, forgetting I’m even a person.
Az lifts a dark eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smirk.
“Did you honestly believe I’d stop at just one?” He chuckles. “No. I plan on making you come for me until you pass out. And then I’ll wring out a few more from your unconscious body.”
My heart stops at his words. “Tu es complètement fou… Completely insane.”
Az laughs heartily, the sound echoing in the cave. The stream seems to complement it, providing a beautiful gurgling background.
“Simone, this is nothing. The plans I have for you…” He tilts his head, considering. “I believe you’d pass out if I told you, and we’re not there yet.”
He snaps his fingers, and several objects fall onto the mattress with soft thuds. I can’t see everything, but I do recognize some as sex toys. There’s a wand vibrator, vibrating beads, a long indigo feather, and a bottle of massage oil. Looking up at him, I see him holding a white silken blindfold. The sight makes my stomach flip.
“I’m not sure?—”
“But I am,” he interrupts me, already crawling over my body. “Haven’t I proven that you can trust me?”
I give him a withering glare.
He smiles back, unrepentant. “With your pleasure, at least.”
“Bon… très bien,”I concede with a sigh. I can’t deny that no one made me come as hard as he just did. I can’t believe I squirted! I never even really enjoyed sex, only going through the motions.
“That’s my good girl,” Az purrs. The words make me want to punch him in equal measure as they make me melt. I’m beyond saving.
He places the blindfold over my eyes and gently ties it at the back. With my eyesight gone, my other senses immediately pick up the slack. His scent becomes stronger, the gurgling of the stream feels louder, and I can even hear his breathing. When he runs the backs of his fingers over my collarbone, I flinch, the intensity of the sensation surprising me.
“There we go,” he murmurs. “Now you’re ready for this.”
“R-ready for what?” I stammer breathlessly.
Az doesn’t reply, though I can feel his weight shifting. A moment later, something incredibly soft touches my neck. The feather? I try to arch up, but I’m bound too tightly. Before I can panic, the touch moves between my breasts, then circles one in tighter and tighter rings, until I’m panting by the time it reaches my nipple.
Mon Dieu… I’ve never felt so aroused, and I just came. How is this even possible? He must be using some angel magic on me, making me more susceptible. There is no other explanation.
When he starts repeating the process with the other breast, I’m too far gone to be embarrassed about begging him for more. Soon, that feather is teasing me between my legs, and I’m not sure if I want to escape from it or if I never want it to stop.
“You know,” he begins, dragging the soft tip over my clit, “this is my wing feather.”
A moan claws its way up my throat. “That’s so…” Filthy? Obscene? Unnatural? Wrong? “So hot,” I finish.
Az chuckles and sadly—thankfully?—stops teasing me with his feather. I hear the distinctive sound of a bottle cap opening, then the spurt of thick, viscous liquid, and a muted clinking sound. Is he lubing up the beads then? My question is answered when the cold glass touches my overheated pussy, making me gasp.
“Shh,” Az soothes. “You’re so tight, little fairy. But you can take this, I know you can.”
It should be demeaning, being talked to like that. For some reason, though, everything he says or does stokes the fire inside me. I’ll worry about my inner feminist later.
