Page 8 of Cruel God

And then she said something that almost knocked the wind right out of me. “Lucifer was also the most beautiful among all the angels.”

“The angel who fell from grace.”

Her gaze remained gentle. “The Morningstar.”

Christ. How did she manage to do that, see something in me that just wasn’t there? I wasn’t beautiful. I wasn’t good. I was ruthless. Cruel and twisted. And I was fucked up…just like her.

I twisted her wrist palm up in my hand, my gaze dropping to the numbers tattooed on her wrist.00777

She was number seven hundred and seventy-seven. How fucking ironic that she had the mark of God inked on her skin when she belonged to the devil.

I dropped her hand, and with a hard push I shoved her back onto the mattress.

“You think I’m beautiful?”

She nodded her head, and like an animal stalking its prey, I placed my knees on the mattress and slowly stalked toward her, not taking my eyes off the prize tucked deep between her thighs. Even though most men loved a bare pussy, I preferred the thin little strip that spread down her perfect mound. It added that sliver of primal desire whenever I stared at that dark strip, knowing all too well where it led.

“Well, you shouldn’t.” I kissed the inside of her ankle. “I might have a pretty face and a body that knows how to fuck pleasure into you, but I’m everything that’s ugly in this world.” I dragged my lips higher up her leg. “I’m twisted, and cruel. A ruthless man whose hands are stained with the blood of his victims. A man condemned by God to spend an eternity in hell.”

“Or rule it,” she whispered, and a goddamn shiver travelled all throughout my body.

“You always know what to say, don’t you?”

“My only purpose is to please you. To service your body and soothe your soul.”

I licked up her thigh, her skin tasting like honeycombs and poison. Sweet, delicious, yet it had the power to make me rot from the inside. Luckily, I was already rotten to the fucking core.

I lifted my head and etched my gaze on hers. “I know you think you’ve already had a taste of hell, a glimpse at the ugliness of the devil. But I assure you, I’m no better. In fact, I’m far…far worse.”

Her hips flexed in search of me, like she hadn’t heard the threat hidden in my words. It’s like it only turned her on more, made her more determined to be fucked by a man without a soul. And this was why it would all be worth it in the end. All the lies, and the deceit—the ends will by far justify the means.

With my gaze now focused on the pool of wetness between her thighs, I murmured, “You want to play tonight. Does my little butterfly want it soft and gentle?”

She shook her head, and I wasn’t the least bit surprised. I already knew how she wanted it, how she needed it. But I loved torturing her by making her wait.

Abruptly I grabbed her ankles and pulled her legs down onto the mattress. She gasped as she slipped a few inches down toward me. Slowly I eased her legs wider before brushing my lips against the inside of her knee. The second my lips touched her skin, she shivered, her body writhing on top of the silk sheets. Wider and wider I forced her legs apart while moving my way up, licking her flesh, loving her taste and the way she trembled. Once I reached her inner thigh, I could smell the sweet scent of her wet pussy. It fucking drove me wild—like a beast smelling its prey’s blood.

Just as I reached the apex of her thighs, I stilled and looked at her. “Tell me how you want me today, Butterfly.” I reached down beneath both knees and jerked her legs up pushing her knees forward and to the side, spreading her cunt wide.

Jesus Christ, the way she lay there all exposed, her pussy swollen and practically begging to be fucked was enough to have me come from a single damn stroke. But there was no fucking way I was going to let her get away that easily.

“Master.” She panted as I softly blew over her exposed flesh. Her back arched and I made use of the opportunity by sliding my finger between her wet lips before slipping it inside her. The moan that echoed from her throat was like a tight fucking grip around my cock, pulsing dark, carnal need throughout my body.

I never understood it. I never knew why or how it was possible for us to be so fucking powerful together. It just was. And all we could do was to succumb to it, to fucking embrace it.

“Master, please.”

I leaned down, the smell of her arousal driving me mad, and gave a single stroke of my tongue from her entrance all the way up through her slit. Her body was no longer shuddering, it was fucking shaking, and I knew she was merely a few touches away from coming.

Lifting myself, I moved over her body, taking a rosy nipple in my mouth—sucking, licking, rolling my tongue around the pebbled flesh. She tasted of desire and surrender, and I loved the way her body writhed beneath mine. With a pop, I let go of her nipple and settled between her legs, my hard length firm against her wet sex.

As I stared into her now hooded eyes, I knew she had long forgotten about her brother—about the man who was currently sitting downstairs drinking a glass of my expensive bourbon. But that part I had conveniently left out of the brief conversation we just had about him. A man never revealed all his cards.

“Do you want it hard?” I moved my waist, feeling her arousal coat my length.

The second she nodded, I pushed myself up and gripped her thigh, latching on to her knee and turning her onto her stomach, roughly jerking her hips, forcing her on all fours.

Leaning over her back, her skin warm against mine, I pressed my lips against her ear. “Then what my butterfly wants, my butterfly gets.”

---