“Will you keep them out?” she asks softly. “Just for tonight?”
Something in her voice makes my chest tighten. “If that's what you wish.”
Unwilling to be away from her now that she’s finally mine, I pull her to me, kissing her deeply. Her body melts against mine, soft where I’m hard, yielding where I’m unyielding.
As our mouths mate, I start undressing her, reverently removing each piece of clothing. Once she's bare, I remove my own, eager to feel her naked against me. When her chest presses against mine, I growl into her mouth. My already granite-hard cock twitches against her belly.
“Az,” she whispers against my lips, her voice hesitant. “Would you... I mean, could we...”
I pull back slightly, curious about her sudden shyness. “What is it, little fairy?”
She bites her lower lip, her cheeks flushing. “Would you tie me up again? Like before, with the ropes?”
The request surprises me, though perhaps it shouldn't. The day I introduced her to shibari had clearly been memorable for us both.
“You want me to bind you?” I ask, though a savage part of me doesn't want to ask for confirmation. It wants to take whatever she'll give to us.
Simone nods, her eyes meeting mine with unexpected courage. “I want to feel what I felt before... but more.”
I brush my thumb across her cheek, sensing the complex emotions beneath her request. There's desire there, yes, but also something deeper—a need to heal old wounds.
I can sense the ghosts of her past hovering around her, though I’m loath to imagine men who used her body, who took without giving, who treated her beauty as a commodity rather than a gift. I don't know the specifics of her trauma, but I can feel its echoes in the way she flinches from sudden movements, in the warinessthat still shadows her eyes, in the way she was afraid when I raised my voice earlier.
“I'll always give you what you need,” I say, pushing my baffling emotions to the side and kissing her forehead.
Minutes later, she's laid out on our bed, her wrists bound above her head, intricate patterns of white silk rope crossing her torso and thighs. The contrast against her skin is stunning—she looks like an offering to a deity, which, in a way, she is. I always did consider myself a kind of god.
I take my time with her, worshipping every inch of her body with my hands and mouth. When I finally enter her, our eyes lock, and I'm startled to see tears glistening in hers.
“Simone?” I pause, concerned. “Fuck. Did I hurt you, little fairy?”
She shakes her head, a tear spilling down her cheek. “No... It's not that. When we were out there in Hell, I was just thinking about the pleasure. It was incredible, but it was... physical. Just my body responding to yours.”
I remain still inside her, waiting for her to continue, even if all I want to do is lose myself inside her.
“But now,” she whispers, her voice breaking, “now I'm letting myself feel everything. Not just the pleasure, but... the connection. I've never felt safe enough before to just... feel.”
Her words pierce something in the center of my chest—something I thought had calcified eons ago.
“Feel, then,” I murmur, beginning to move. “Feel everything, little fairy. I have you.”
As we move together, building toward release, I'm struck by a troubling thought. Sooner or later, I'll need to tell her who—what—I really am. Not a fallen angel's son, but Asmodeus, the son of Lilith and Samael, Archdemon of Lust, one of the ancient rulers of Hell.
Will she look at me with the same wonder then? Will she still surrender herself to me so completely? Or will those expressive gray eyes fill with horror and betrayal?
The thought sends a surge of possessiveness through me, and Idrive deeper into her, as if I could somehow bind her soul to mine through the physical act alone.
“Az,” she gasps, her inner walls clenching around me as she approaches her climax.
“I'm here,” I promise, cupping her face. “Let go, Simone. I've got you.”
She shatters beneath me, her back arching as much as the ropes allow, her mouth open in a silent cry. I follow her over the edge, pouring myself into her, marking her as mine in the most primal way possible.
As we lie together afterward, her head on my chest, my wings curled around us both, I make a silent vow. I will tell her the truth, but not yet. Not until I'm certain she won't flee from me in terror. Not until I'm certain she's as bound to me as I've somehow become to her.
For now, I'll be content with this—with her soft breath against my skin, with the way she nestles closer, seeking my warmth. With the knowledge that, for right now at least, she's chosen to be mine.
21
