Page 143 of Devil's Doom

When another drop of sweat trickles down his jaw, I don’t hold back. I lick it off with a small flick of my tongue.

Chors lets go of my hand, wrapping his arms around me. He pulls me close with a muffled moan, his voice echoing off the far walls, and I release his erection, hugging him back. He shivers, holding me tightly, and I stroke his back, my heart thumping against his through our ribs.

“It’s more intense than it seems,” he says after a while, voice trembling slightly.

“We can stop. We don’t need to do anything,” I murmur, trailing my fingers down his spine. He hunches over me a bit, and I can trace the slight protrusion of each vertebra easily.

He shakes his head before I’m even done speaking.

“No. I don’t want to stop.”

Chapter forty-eight

God

“Are you sure?” I ask, stroking his skin.Gods.He is exquisite, all of his emotions right on the surface, and after Woland’s infinite lies, Chors’ honesty soothes me so well.

“I’m sure.”

He pulls back, regaining some of his control. His pupils are wide, face flushed, and his desire is a palpable thing, like a force of nature bringing us close. When his eyes lower to my lips and his breath hitches, I slowly bring my hand up to trace his mouth.

“Would you like to kiss?” I ask, my heart pounding with the heady innocence of this encounter.

How is it possible he’s never done this? I don’t doubt him, and after all, Woland said Chors only watches, but still, it feels utterly too serendipitous that he wantsmeafter centuries of abstinence. But Chors is a sexual creature and a voyeur. Maybe something happened that prevented him from willing to bare himself to another person.

Maybe I am someone he trusts.

He nods so sharply, my finger almost ends up in his nose. I giggle, and after a moment, he smiles back, breathless and exultant.

“Yes. I want to kiss you.”

I lay my hand on his nape, ever so gently, and he leans down, fast, ecstatic puffs of breath exploding against my lips. I part them and come closer until our bodies are flush, his erection trapped against my belly. He makes a needy sound in the back of his throat right as his lips press to mine.

He doesn’t move for a moment and neither do I. We breathe, faster and faster until our breaths are in sync, and I kiss him softly, just a gentle stroke of my lips over his. It’s so innocent. Like friends kissing.

And then, it’s not.

He moans, his hands suddenly on my body, pulling me closer. His lips move with mine, clumsily at first, and then he sucks my lower lip into his mouth, and it’s wetness, warmth, and a taste of moonlight, all in one.

He steals my breath, arms too tight around me, mouth folding into mine with low, frustrated sounds. I sense what he needs and lick into his mouth, tongue meeting tongue. He freezes.

And kisses me back.

It’s messy and perfect, our tongues gliding together in a stuttering dance that grows easier with every stroke, until I’m gathered to him, my toes barely grazing the sand on the bottom. He kisses raw moans into my mouth, pushing as deep as our bodies allow, teeth scraping tongues, lips suckled and stroked until I’m dizzy, and still, he hasn’t had enough.

He holds me as if he’s afraid I’ll slip away. It’s not possessive or arrogant. He just lets me know with every twitch of his desperate fingers how much he needs me here.

“Wait,” I choke out when it feels like I’ll fall apart. “Please.”

He stops, his tongue still in my mouth, his body pressed closer than I thought possible. With a low, questioning sound, he pulls back, but his cock stays pressed to my stomach, deliciously hard and pulsing, and his mouth barely lets go of mine.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, voice hoarse as if he screamed all this time instead of kissing me.

“I need a moment. To breathe.”

He hums, watching me closely, like I’m a puzzle to solve. “Could you not breathe when we kissed?”

I shake my head. “Not because… Ah. It was intense. Like you said.”

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