Page 85 of Hopelessly Teavoted
They had been fools to pretend a death curse could stop whatever this was between them.
Pressing against his hand, Vickie rode Azrael’s gloved fingers, tentatively at first, then, glancing down to make sure he wasn’t close enough to accidentally kill, again, with the full force of her want—her need—for him. One of Azrael’s hands was lost in her skirts, and she drove down onto it as the other snapped rhythmically to pull at her nipples, her neck, and the soft gathering of nerves at the center of her until she could feel her walls closing around his fingers, the ratcheting tension enough to make her whimper his name. Goddess, she wanted it to be his tongue, too, or other bits of him, but fuck it, she’d take whatever she could get at this point.
“That’s it, Vickie,” he answered. “Show me how badly you’ve wanted this. How much you’ve missed me. Show me how wild I make you.”
She could see and hear how unhinged he was now, his breath heavy and the outline of his erection clear through his suit pants.
Her eyes were open now, and she stared, heat creeping up her cheeks, but neither of them slowed down.
“You can be honest, Vickie. Tell me what you want.”
“More,” she panted, and he slipped a third gloved finger inside her. Snap, and invisible kisses traced a path down her décolletage. Vickie felt each one linger, and if she closed her eyes, she could pretend. Covered in the cool glove, his hand wasn’t quite as warm, but it was better than her own tired digits. The magic licked like the stroke of his tongue, down, down, exactly where she needed it to be.
“Fuck, Azrael,” she ground out as her core pulsed, a squeezing, clamping fist claiming his gloved fingers. Azrael rubbed them in and out a few times before pulling them out completely, and holding them up for her to see.
“Well. This is ruined.” A crooked smile snaked up his face. “And so am I, frankly.”
He yanked the leather glove off and tossed it aside, snapping his fingers to replace it with a clean one.
Vickie stared up at him as her breath slowed to a normal rhythm.
“Az, what can I do?…” His pupils were still blown wide, and she wanted to touch him, to press against him through his pants and gloves, or to watch while he came on her tits, or into his hand, anywhere, really, but his eyebrows knitted together, and a feeling—worry, maybe?—flickered across his face.
It was all too much. Or perhaps not enough? Vickie wasn’t sure what he needed.
“We should wash up and have dinner,” Az said, adjusting himself in his pants and turning to the door. The house did not oblige, and he had to give the bolt on the door a few raps before it let up. He turned back to her for a moment.
“Fuck,” he said softly. “How is it that good without even laying a single ungloved hand on each other?”
“Right,” said Vickie, standing up from the couch, a slight wobble to her stance. “Dinner,” she said. Her voice sounded weak.
Holding out a fully covered arm, Azrael cleared his throat.
“The four of us have a lot to talk about.” It was an abrupt transition, but it was true.
Vickie didn’t respond, but did the only thing she could think to do while clad in formal wear with a man who’d just thoroughly finger-fucked her in gloves. She threaded an arm in his, and they walked, as far apart as two people who were in love and definitely in lust could walk.
After all, to get any closer would be to risk a different kind of sparks flying, and she wasn’t about to relinquish his soul to a devil.
CHAPTER 27Azrael
Azrael couldn’t shake her, both the scent of her strawberry perfume that wafted off her and the salty-sweet slick of her that lingered somewhere on his person, even though he had washed his hands and changed into new gloves.
Fuck. Blood rushed away from his head. It was October now, and they only had a month to sort things out. They needed to talk about the case.
He pictured baseball, but that never worked. Hot guys in tight pants did it for him too. Gritting his teeth, Azrael thought about the moment when Vickie had rejected him, or when he thought she had. At the party, long ago, when Vickie went upstairs with Anya. When Vickie left for school, taking his whole heart with her. When he realized he couldn’t touch her, moments before he would have finally fucked her again and the ghosts of his parents had showed up in the back seat of the Packard.
There. That was better. Now he could focus on solving the mystery.
“So, Priscilla and I put a tracking spell on the metal detector at the front entrance of the school, tracing for someone stepping through it who had close contact with a greater devil,” Azrael said. “It was a tricky piece of spell work, but we ran it by the Council. It should have worked. Whoever the big bad guy is, they’re not at the school.”
“Or they’re not using that entrance. Have you talked to Chet at all?” Vickie’s grip tightened on his arm.
He shook his head. “He’s hard to pin down these days. I’ve been trying to keep an ear out for anyone who might work as a volunteer youth pastor, but honestly, most of us are too underwater on grading and planning to take on anything else for free.”
“Az, I’m sorry. That can’t be easy, starting a new job.”
“We knew the students were innocent. The Council detected traces of greater devil work near the building, so Evelyn helped to enchant and run the tracking program to prove that no children were involved on the metal detectors. It would catch anyone who came through that way, just in case there was some sort of accidental summoning by a minor they were picking up with those traces. She’s got a program running everywhere there’s a scanner in town now, so, at the courtroom and the police station, a few of the clothing stores with compatible sensors. So far, nothing.”
