Page 18 of Love in the Dark

The captive shudders once the soil is shoveled onto his body, covering his legs, and his chest, inch by inch. Cherrie's laughter rings out, her mad cackle sending a chill down his spine. "You like that, don't you?" she teases. "The feel of the earth, the knowledge that you're buried alive." The captive's mind spinsas he experiences the sensation of being entombed, his body trembling. He knows this is their ultimate fantasy, to drive him to the brink of madness and back. "Please," he tries to get out, his voice hoarse with and fear. "Mercy..."

Azazel's face appears above him, his green eyes glittering with possession. "Mercy is for the weak," he growls, his voice filled with lust. "And you, my dear captive, are anything but weak. You're ours now–body, mind, and soul."

As the captive's cries for mercy echo through the graveyard, Azazel and Cherrie’s final shovel of dirt is laid, sealing their captive's fate. Azazel and Cherrie step back to admire their handiwork. They stand above the grave, their bodies bathed in the moonlight, casting long shadows that dance among the headstones.

"Now, my dear Cherrie, let us show our captive just how far we're willing to go." His voice is a low growl, resonating with power. "Let's give him a taste of our love... Right here, next to his final resting place."

Cherrie, her eyes sparkling with mischief, bites her lip seductively. "Oh, Az, you read my mind." She steps closer to him, pressing her body against his. "I want to feel you inside me, right here where death looms." Without another word, Azazel pulls Cherrie against him, their lips crashing together in a passionate kiss. Their tongues dance wildly, tasting each other with fervency. Cherrie moans into the kiss, her hands roaming over Azazel's muscular body, feeling the power that lay beneath.

Azazel's hands find Cherrie’s hips, squeezing and caressing them with reverence.

Cherrie arches her back, offering herself to him, her nipples hardening in the cool breeze. Azazel takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking and teasing it with his tongue, causing Cherrie to gasp and squirm. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” Azazel growls, his voice thick with admiration and lust.

Cherrie shivers, her eyes fluttering closed. “Say it again,” she murmurs, her voice a seductive challenge. “Say it like you mean it.”

Azazel’s smirk deepens, his green eyes darkening with desire. “You’re perfect, Cherrie,” he repeats, his tone low and commanding. “My perfect, unhinged, fuckin’ masterpiece.”

Azazel's mouth trails down Cherrie's neck, leaving wet kisses and gentle bites along the way. His hands find the zipper of her jeans, tugging it down swiftly. Wearing only her lace panties, a delicate contrast to the harshness of the grave. Cherrie pushes Azazel back against a nearby headstone, her eyes burning with desire.

She kneels before him, her hands reaching for the buckle of his belt. With deft fingers, she undoes it, then lowers his zipper, revealing the bulge in his pants. She wastes no time in freeing his throbbing dick, stroking it gently as it springs to attention. Azazel hisses at the sensation, his head falling back as he enjoys the pleasure Cherrie provides him.

Her lips wrap around his length, taking him deep into the warmth of her mouth. Her tongue swirls and teases, her lips tight around him as she sucks eagerly.

"Fuck, Cherrie...your mouth..." Azazel groans, his hands tangling in her hair. He thrusts his hips gently, guiding her movements as she bobs her head up and down, taking him deeper with each stroke.

Cherrie moans in response, the vibrations sending shivers down Azazel's spine. Her lust-filled eyes gaze up at him, pleading for more. She wants to taste him, to feel him explode on her tongue.

Their passionate display continues, their bodies pressing against the cold headstones. The cemetery becomes their erotic playground–each grave, a reminder of the fragility of life and the intensity of the moment.

As Cherrie continues to pleasure Azazel with her mouth, he reaches down to caress her breasts, squeezing and pinching her nipples. He tugs gently on her hair, encouraging her to take him even deeper. The sound of their moans and gasps fill the night, a symphony of desire echoing among the graves. But their climax is yet to come. Azazel pulls Cherrie to her feet, pressing her against the headstone.

He lifts one of her legs, hooking it over his hip, exposing her wet pussy. With a swift motion, he slides inside her, their bodies joining as one. Cherrie cries out, her nails digging into the stone when she feels Azazel fill her completely. He begins to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, then building in intensity. The sound of their flesh slapping together mingles with their moans, a rhythmic accompaniment to their passionate dance.

"Oh, Az...yes...right there..." Cherrie pants, her breath coming in short gasps. "Fuck me...harder."

Azazel obliges, driving into her with forceful thrusts. The headstone provides a stark contrast to their soft, sweaty bodies, each impact sending tremors through their very cores. Their mouths seek each other out, kissing deeply, tasting the sweat and passion on each other's lips.

Azazel and Cherrie reach the pinnacle of their passion, their movements becoming frenzied. Azazel pounds into Cherrie with unrelenting force, his balls slapping against her ass with each thrust. Cherrie cries out, her nails scratching at the headstone, leaving marks on the ancient stone.

"Cum for me, baby." Azazel growls, his voice hoarse with desire. "Let me feel you come around my dick." Cherrie screams as her orgasm rips through her, her body shaking uncontrollably. She tightens around Azazel, milking his dick with her pussy. Azazel grunts, his own release building as he drives into her one last time, spilling his seed deep inside her.

They hold each other, their bodies slick with sweat, chests heaving as they catch their breath. The cemetery is silent again, as if the night itself holds its breath, witnessing the aftermath of their erotic encounter. Azazel and Cherrie, satisfied for the moment, straighten their clothes and share a wicked smile.

“Daddy, do you think our cum can be used as fertilizer? And Look at that, Daddy, done just in time for dinner! Your treat!” Cherrie screams as she jumps on Azazel’s back.

Azazel catches her and locks his arms while holding cherrie’s legs, laughs, and says, “No lovebug, I don’t think so. And would I be the gentleman that I am if I didn’t treat my little nightmare?” Cherrie kisses Azazel’s neck. “That’s my daddy.”

Chapter Nine

Interference

Azazel and Cherrie stroll into the elegant restaurant, their eyes sparkling with anticipation. The dimly lit dining room exudes an air of sophistication and class, a stark contrast to their recent exploits in the cemetery. The subdued atmosphere only serves to heighten the thrill of their clandestine affairs.

They are a striking couple, turning heads as they move through the room. Cherrie radiates a seductive energy that draws people in. They relish the attention, feeding off the subtle stir they create among the other diners. Seated at a cozy table for two, they settle in, their hands gently brushing against each other, a subtle current of electricity passing between them.

The waitstaff brings them a bottle of expensive champagne, and they sip it slowly. Their eyes lock, each knowing the other's thoughts intimately. They peruse the menu, their conversation turning to their recent adventures.

"That last job was particularly thrilling, wasn't it, baby?" Cherrie purrs. "Having our captive at our mercy, watching him squirm. It gets me hot just thinking about it."

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