Page 57 of Touched By Death

“I figured a woman like you, born from Death itself, would appreciate its aroma.”

She spins around to face me, and my gaze falls to her long legs when the skirt flares around her thighs. It’s annoying how seductive she is. Annoying because I want to suffocate the life out of her while she comes on my cock.

I stride past her, down the corridor. Framed paintings line the walls on each side, each one of an angel before I either fucked them or killed them, depending on my mood.

Genesis pauses to study each one until I’m ready to grab her by the hair and haul her deeper into my lair. “How do you convince them to set foot in here when it reeks of death?”

“I’m Lucifer,” I say, as if that explains everything. “They turn a blind eye.”

“Interesting,” she muses, flashing me a flirtatious smile over her shoulder before moving to the next picture on the wall.

Fuck her for making me stare.

I turn fully, scanning the sheer size of her wings. My own can’t be much bigger, and that lights a fire in my groin.

As if she can sense my gaze, she stretches them out to their full beauty, then tucks them back close to her body. Enough of this.

Grabbing the back of her neck, I slam her up against the wall and press myself against her wings. She doesn’t even try to fight me, much to my disappointment.

Cheek squished against the wallpaper, she thrusts her ass out. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to help yourself.”

Reaching up with my other hand, I slide it across a wing, relishing in the smooth feathers. “I bet my son branded these in cum. What man could stop himself, if presented with the opportunity to fuck such powerful perfection? It’s a shame he got to Aurelia first.”

“He sure knows how to fuck,” she goads, wiggling her ass. “Better than you and Amenadiel.”

Digging my fingers into her neck, I press my lips to her ear. “Now, sweetheart, we both know that’s not true. Little sluts like you thirst for power. There’s no one around here more powerful than me.”

“What do you do with them once they enter through the front door? I bet you don’t fuck them against the wall.”

“I don’t,” I admit, sliding my hand back down her wing. “I tie, gag, fuck, and kill them. And not always in that order. Sometimes I like to remove their wings first. There’s something so fucking sweet about their tortured screams.”

“Your dirty talk is making me wet, Lucifer. I missed your filthy mouth.”

“Shut up,” I growl, releasing her neck and clamping my hand over her mouth. “Where is Aurelia?”

Her soft laughter is muffled behind my palm as she stares up at me from behind, her neck bent at a sharp angle.

When I slide my hand down to the front of her throat, she says, “Let’s roleplay.” She bats her lashes and purrs in her most innocent voice, “Please, don’t hurt me, Lucifer. I’m scared.”

I shove her away, angry at the electric current of pleasure that rushes to my dick when she looks at me like that. “You’re gonna bring her to me, or I’ll hurt you, Genesis. Don’t make me kill you twice.”

She turns, leaning back against the wall, tits heaving with every harsh inhale of breath through those succubus lips. “If at first you don’t succeed, try again.”

Killing the distance between us, I trap her between the framed pictures. “Bring her to me!”

“Why?”

“Because,” I reply, inhaling her warm breath, “I want to show her the face of true evil.”

“No,” she says with a soft, teasing laugh. “You want to fuck your son’s girlfriend. It’s as simple as that. The one angel you can’t have.” Arching her back and pushing her tits into me, she bites her bottom lip. “A powerful angel like you thrives on a good hunt. It’s in your blood to invade and conquer. Aurelia is the ultimate challenge to you. Not only because she’s claimed by your son, but also because she’s possibly the only angel more powerful than you.”

A bark of laughter rips from my lips. “More powerful than me?” I push off the wall and continue down the hallway. “No one is more powerful than me.”

She follows behind, her steps lithe and silent—a predator stalking its prey. “You always underestimated the female race.”

I don’t bother to spare her a glance over my shoulder as I push open a set of doors. As I step aside, she sidles past me, the sweet fragrance of her perfume assaulting my senses like a seductive whisper.

She turns in a circle in the middle of the room, taking in the blood-red walls and the big bed in the center with its black drapes and silk sheets. Whips, ropes, gags, floggers, and a multitude of other tools line the walls. Most women gasp when they see them, but Genesis seems more riveted by the large set of white wings mounted above the bed.

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