Page 85 of Even Angels fall
“Okay.”
That’s the only word getting out of his mouth before he grabs me by the hips and throws me over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” I ask, half-annoyed, half-amused. I should force him to put me back on the ground, but he has me settled on his shoulder like I weigh nothing.
He doesn’t answer at first, but takes the stairs three at a time until he reaches the first floor of the cathedral and then climbs the ones to the second-floor corridor.
“Forcing my wife to go to bed. Why?” he answers cheekily, and I don’t know why the fact he calls me his wife so blatantly has me all hot and bothered.
It’s not like I can do much about it right now. I’m stuck on his freaking shoulder.
But then he passes my door and goes directly for his.
Thatwasn’t the plan.
“What are you doing?” I ask, a bit panicked. Is he expecting us to have sex tonight? Just to sleep together?
I’ve fantasized about him since I saw his bare chest the first day, but am I ready for real sex?
“Bringing my wife to my bed,” he answers, unbothered. “But if I’m not welcome in my own bed, that’s okay. I’ll sleep on the couch, but for the sake of appearances, we should sleep in the same room.”
“Who cares about appearances? We’re all going to die tomorrow,” I answer with a sigh.
“Don’t be so pessimistic,” he tells me before he opens his door and throws me on his bed in a big heap of black and gold fabric.
I take in his room. It’s a lot like mine, except it’s probably twice as big, which explains why he said he could sleep on the couch, because he does have one, with one of those fancy screens that looks transparent until you press the right button. It’s slightly glimmering from where I lie on the bed, so I was able to get a glimpse of it.
His bed is a four-poster, like mine, and the door to his bathroom is like a mirror to mine, but the room looks more alive. I haven’t been in mine for so long, but it’s clear Elhyor has been in his for quite a while. There are papers on the desk, a jacket thrown over the back of the couch, and a pair of sneakers discarded next to the door.
It’s not a mess, but it doesn’t look like a room that would be used from time to time.
He unlocks the door between my room and his and then pushes mine without needing to unlock it.
“I opened it before going downstairs to pick you up,” he answers without me having to ask the question.
Right, because he planned all of this and was expecting me to comply all along, but isn’t that what I’m doing right now? I’m not really protesting. I haven’t since I realized I didn’t want to kill him. It should appall me that I’m just going with the flow since that realization, but I don’t seem to mind. I spread on the mattress like I’m the only one who is going to sleep there. Wait, I’m the only one who is going to sleep there unless I make Elhyor change his mind. I don’t plan on killing him while he’s buried inside of me like I was tasked to do, but I do want him and why would I waste the—most likely—only time I’ll get to share a room with him?
“Do you need anything from your room?” Elhyor asks as his head passes through the frame of the door to my room.
“You’re sleeping on the couch?” I ask with a devilish smile. Yes, I know I’m being a brat, but if he says he’s gonna sleep on the couch, I’ll remind him that there’s enough room for two on his bed, and that if he doesn’t want to share a bed, I could simply go back to my own room and keep the door between the two rooms open.
Instead, he surprises me and asks, “Do youwantme to sleep on the couch?”
I had a big speech prepared, obviously, but no words come out, because if I’m honest with myself, I don’t want him to sleep on the couch. I don’t want to sleep in my own bed, either.
I must have blushed a bit at what I really want, because his eyes turn to shining flames, and he stalks back inside the room and stops at the foot of the bed.
“Do you want me to sleep in that bed with you, Little Devil?” he asks in a rough voice. When I don’t answer, he adds, “I need words, Little Devil. I’m not coming into that bed with you until I’m sure that’s something you really want.”
Instead, I bunch my dress to mid-thigh and kneel at the end of the bed. I’m still not as tall as he is, even with the bed being high, but it’s going to work, anyway. I drop my hand over the hole in his shirt and feel the beat of his heart against my palm. Then I fist my other hand at the bottom of his shirt, and slowly, I force him down. I’m conscious that if he didn’t want to bend, he wouldn’t, and yet he still bends to meet me halfway.I guess he doesn’t need words if I want him to kiss me, I think to myself as our lips crash together.
It starts soft, as if he wants to control the pace we set, as if he wants to savor the taste of my lips on his and imprint the feel of them in his mind. Except, it’s not enough. I want more. I need more.
So, I take more. The hand that was against his heart slips around his neck, and I deepen the kiss, nibbling on his lower lip so I can slip my tongue inside his mouth and twirl it with his. The kiss turns hungry as he moves his hands and frames my face to give him better access. Then he lets them go, and for just a second, I think he’s just going to leave me like this, but his hands trail the side of my throat, my sides, and settle on my waist. Before I know it, he lifts me from the bed and, as if on instinct, I wrap my legs around his waist. The dress puffs at my hips and pools on either side of us. I feel him go rigid when the heat of my pussy falls on the hard length beneath his pants.
He stops the kiss and drops his forehead to mine.
“Wife, tell me you want this. I need to know that you want this.” He looks tortured, and I think it hurts him having to ask, but I also believe that he would stop in an instant if I told him I just wanted a kiss. Instead, I tip my hips and rub myself against his cock.
