Page 91 of These Monstrous Ties
Instead, he looks down at me a moment, waiting.
For permission.
My hands are trailing down his sides, to his fitted jogging pants. I nod, and he unhooks my bra, brushing the straps down my shoulders. It hits the floor, and I tug on the waistband of his pants.
His eyes linger on my neck.
For a moment, I forget why.
Then I remember. The bruises. There’s probably more from Mayhem, too. His hand goes to my throat, and he gently strokes circles on my neck.
“I’m going to kill him,” he whispers, leaning down, putting his brow to mine.
I don’t know who exactly he’s talking about, but I smile thinly at him, some of the lust leaving my bones. Some of the fight, too. But I don’t want to think about that. I don’t want to end this. Not right now. Later, maybe, when I’m on that train headed north, I’ll regret this. Maybe then I’ll curse myself for being so stupid. But not right now. Right now, I want him. I want this moment.
“Don’t worry, Lucifer,” I say, smiling. “I’m yours tonight.”
At that, his hands tighten gently against my throat and he snarls in my ear, that urgency back in his hands, his mouth, his teeth. It’s back in mine too.
This is where we thrive.
In the angst. The chaos. The toxicity. These are our own monstrous ties forming. Ties that will have to be broken, have to be severed like a limb. But for now, I don’t care. I’m falling fast, and nothing is going to stop me from hitting the ground.
When we’re both naked, he picks me up in his arms, cradling me to his chest, and carries me to his bed, lying me down gently. I stare up at him, through the little light that’s still left in the sky, streaming in through the open window.
Every inch of him is beautiful. Every inch not covered in paint is smooth and pale and cut, save for the tattoo on his thigh, and the scars there. Even the scars on his torso are beautiful.Especiallythose scars. And the black and white of Lucifer makes his blue eyes all the more devastating.
He’s also ready. For me.
I stare at his cock, taking in just how big it is with wide eyes and a small smile.
He grins at me, his eyes raking over my entire body, from my feet to my thighs, to that small scar that he had made, to between my legs, up my abdomen, roaming over my breasts. Finally, he meets my gaze again.
He bites his lip. “Are you ready, Lilith?” he purrs.
Every bone in my body is ready. Every muscle is coiled.
I nod.
“Are you mine?” he asks me, quieter, eyes still locked on mine.
My heart sinks a little at that question.
But still, I say the words he wants to hear. The words he needs to hear. “Yes. I’m yours,Lucifer.”
At his name on my lips, he pounces on me, the weight of his body warm and comforting and wild against mine. He strokes my bangs from my face, grinding himself against me.
I gasp, and he bites my bottom lip.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says against my mouth, pressing himself against my thigh again. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Sid.”
I wrap my legs around him, bucking my hips, trying to get himthere.Where I want him.
“And so eager, too, aren’t you?” he teases me, whispering the words against my throat.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes.” My hands go to his muscled back, and I dig my nails into his skin. He groans, then reaches between us, nudging my thighs apart with his hand.
He cups me, slipping one finger in, gently, and then another.
