Page 9 of Wicked Believer
The sound of my heartbeat thrashes in my ears, and a cold sweat breaks out over my skin.
But Lucifer moves first. He probes the wound gingerly, his eyes widening at the sight of the blood on his fingers, before he throws back his head and laughs wickedly, the forked tip of his tongue darting out to lick some of the blood from his lip.
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” He smirks down at me. “Fight me.”
His tone is so patronizing, so cocksure, that my pulse races, my own embarrassment at how much I’m still enjoying this slamming me into overdrive, and before I fully understand what I’m doing, I’m clawing at him, and the ground beneath us is shaking, vibrating, the anger buried deep inside me barely leashed. Like he’s coaxing all my darkest desires out of me. And suddenly, I can’t stop myself from wanting to release it.
My desire. My anger.
At him. At this fucked-up existence he created for me.
I may have chosen to be with him, but I never would have been forced to if Lucifer hadn’t first chosen for me, manipulated me for his own twisted means.
The way he’s still doing. Right now.
The ground continues to shake, the subtle vibrations growing more violent and intense by the second. Like my rage can destroy the earth beneath me.
“That’s right. I killed him,” Lucifer hisses, his voice rising. “Doesn’t that anger you?” His pupils narrow until they’re serpentine slits, even as the hardened length of his cock presses against me. Even as I seek it out. “Ienjoyedthe taste of his blood as the last of his pathetic heart pulsed in my hand.”
I’m shaking nearly as much as the ground now as I struggle to hold my anger in, my pussy soaking the thin layer of my thong, which he quickly rips from me, but as he undoes his belt buckle, my skin tightening, I can’t bring myself to fight it anymore. To resist him.
So, I give in. To my desire. To the fury.
I hit him again, letting out a strangled cry. I fight and kick with every ounce of rage he’s released in me. It doesn’t take long for him to pin me again, yet still I’m pulsing with need. He clutches me by the throat, the swollen lips of my pussy already anticipating him.
The earth continues to shake.
“That’s it,” he snarls. His deranged chuckle is a dark, twisted thing. “Fuck me. Destroy me. I stole your humanity from you, after all.”
Roughly, he holds me down, choking me with one hand as I claw at him uselessly. With the other, he lifts my dress and exposes himself before crudely shoving his cock into me. The fullness of him stretches me, his shadows wrapping around us like a shield as he thrusts until darkness dances at the edge of my vision, and with each delicious stroke, I feel my world shatter. Like he’s tearing me apart. Even as it feels like he’s putting me back together again.
I can’t make sense of all the feelings at war in me.
I love him.
But I ... might also hate him a little.
For everything he’s done to me.
And yet, I hadn’t even allowed myself to think it until now, to unleash this feeling. That’s how much I want him, how much he’s damaged me.
This ache he creates in me, the invisible force that binds us.
It’s life altering. Universe creating.
So catastrophic I can’t begin to wrap my mind around the scope of it.
Lucifer and I are infinity. Infinity made flesh.
Lucifer thrusts into me, his cock finding a rough and perfect rhythm, hitting that exact spot he knows makes me come undone as his other hand fingers my clit feverishly. “Let it out now, dove. Let it out.”
“It ... should have been me,” I rasp, barely managing the words he’s coaxed from me through the fog of my own pleasure and the grip of his hand at my throat. I glare up at him, a furious tear sliding down my cheek as I hiss, “It should have been me who killed him.”
A satisfied smile crosses his lips.
Two of his fingers lightly pinch my clit, rolling it in a way that makes me arch up off the ground until I gag.
Lucifer smirks. “Forgive me.”
