Page 99 of Touched By Death

As I step deeper into his room, it dawns on me that I feel as though I’m entering the lion’s den. Each click of my heels on the floor hits me like gunshots. “Where were you?”

His brow creases, and he tosses the pen onto the table. “You’ll need to be more specific.”

The dying embers in the fireplace draw my attention for a brief moment. Two logs of firewood remain in the basket next to it. I focus my attention back on Amenadiel. “I had another dream.”

With his chin resting on his palm, he watches me.

He looks imposing in the moonlight that pours in through the window to his left. Half of his face is in shadow, and his eyes seem to glow in the darkness.

“I was searching for you.”

He says nothing, so I add, “You’re always there. Why not this time?”

“Don’t you think I have better things to do than to hang out in little girls’ dreams at night?”

“You tell me,” I respond, stopping at the side of his mahogany desk. Nails clicking on the surface, I watch him intently. “You’ve visited mine often enough.”

His brown eyes look up at me from beneath his dark lashes almost lazily. I can’t decipher if I intrigue him or if he’s bored with me. Something excites me about the way he seems to hunt me with the small smirk that slides across his lips. His gaze slowly cruises down my body, and I bite down on my tongue to calm the violent spark of pleasure that shoots to my core. My clit pulses in his presence.

“Where were you?” My breathy voice gives me away, which should mortify me. But when he flicks those dark eyes back up to mine, I revel in the tension that thickens the air like an electric current.

“Why are you really here?”

My heart stalls in my chest as he slides his desk chair out and rises to his feet. He’s so tall, towering over me. Ancient and powerful.

“My light is coming back,” I say, retreating a step when he takes one forward, like a silent dance between lovers.

“It is, huh?” His voice is a seductive drawl that caresses my skin like an invisible touch. It slithers beneath the fabric of my dress to tease my hardening nipples.

One step further back, then another. Amenadiel follows me step by step, heartbeat by heartbeat.

“Yes…”

“Interesting.” In a flurry of movement, he’s in front of me, and I’m trapped against the desk by his muscular arms. His wings are out, showcasing his raw masculinity and power. When his fangs elongate, a gasp leaves my mouth. He flicks his eyes to my lips and whispers, “Tell me, angel, why were you searching for me across the veil?”

I can’t speak. Not when he looks at me like he wants to devour me whole.

Before I can open my mouth to speak, his lips are on mine, and his hand is on my throat.

Gripping me tightly, he feasts on my soul. His tongue tangles with mine, and the sharp scrape of his teeth drives me wild. I claw at his shirt, his hair, his neck.

Moaning into his mouth, I grab his hip and pull him closer to me, the leather belt cool beneath my touch. We’re a clash of limbs and snarls. His hard cock grinds against my exposed pussy through the fabric of his charcoal suit pants. The friction has another moan slipping from my lips.

He shoves me back with his hand on my throat, and my spine meets the paperwork on his desk. With his eyes on mine, he unbuckles his belt one-handed and pulls down the front of his pants.

“You shouldn’t have come here, angel.”

Arching off the desk, I let him see the need in me. The need for him to fill me up with his dick and fuck me hard. To finally do all the demented, depraved things I’ve craved since the first time he visited me in my dreams.

A gasp leaves me when he yanks down my dress to expose my heaving tits. The straps snap, and the sudden sting heightens my arousal. Kneading my left breast, he leans over me and takes the nipple into his hot mouth. His tongue swirls over the throbbing peak, and I let out a breathy moan.

“Amenadiel, please…”

“Please, what?” He looks up at me through dark eyes that burn with dangerous desire and pent-up lust. “I want to hear you say it. I’ve waited long enough.”

Clit pulsing with need, I wet my dry lips and plead, “Please fuck me, Amenadiel.”

“I can’t hear you, little angel.”

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