Page 9 of Love in the Dark

Cherrie has spent the day preparing. She knows Azazel loves seeing her dressed up, so she took extra care with her appearance, knowing their dates often end with her clothes torn and ruined.

Her hair is curled, falling softly around her shoulders, and her makeup is flawless, with bold red lips that beg to be kissed, or bitten. She slides into a figure-hugging, red dress that accentuates her curves; the fabric feeling sensual against her bare skin. She knows Azazel will appreciate the effort, and the thought of his hands roaming over her body, tearing at the delicate material, sends a shiver of anticipation through her.

Azazel, always the dapper gentleman, wears a tailored, black suit that compliments his muscular frame. His short, black hair is sleek, and his eyes glitter with anticipation and a hint of madness. He finishes his look with a splash of cologne–the scent designed to intoxicate and entice.

They meet in a dimly lit, secluded upscale bar, a place they have chosen for its privacy and ambiance. The air is heavy withthe scent of expensive liquor and the promise of sin. They sit close together, their bodies already buzzing with anticipation, and their legs entwined under the table.

As they drink and converse, the tension between them builds. Azazel reaches for Cherrie's hand, his thumb stroking over her delicate skin. His touch is both loving, and possessive. Cherrie smiles, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She brings her glass to her lips, taking a slow, deliberate sip as her eyes remain locked on Azazel's. She knows how to play this game–how to push his buttons and inflame his desire.

"I've been thinking about you all day, and I’ve missed your honey scent with that hint of cocoa," Azazel murmurs, his deep voice sending a shiver down Cherrie's spine. "Thinking about all the things I want to do to you."

Cherrie licks her lips with a sultry smile playing at the edges of her mouth. "Oh yeah? And what kinds of things are those?"

Azazel leans closer, his breath warm against her ear. "Dirty things. Painful things. I want to mark that perfect body of yours, leave my fingerprints on your soft skin." Cherrie's breath quickens as a rush of desire washes over her. She loves how Azazel makes her feel so wanted, so cherished.

"And what if I want to leave my mark on you?" she teases, running her hand up his thigh, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fine fabric of his trousers.

Azazel's eyes darken, and he grasps her hand, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. "Then may the biggest dick win."

With that, he stands, tossing a handful of bills onto the table. Cherrie rises, following his lead as her body buzzes with excitement. They step out into the night, the cool air a contrast to the heat simmering between them. They begin to walk, heading towards a secluded part of the city, where deserted warehouses and abandoned lots provide the perfect backdrop for their deviant desires.

As they walk, Azazel takes Cherrie's hand, their fingers intertwining with a silent promise of what’s to come. They quicken their pace, their footsteps echoing against the empty streets while their hearts race with anticipation. Without warning, Azazel pulls Cherrie into an alley, pressing her against the cold, brick wall. He cages her in with his arms, his eyes burning with intensity.

"I can't wait any longer," he growls, claiming her mouth in a hungry kiss. Cherrie moans, opening her mouth to his, their tongues dueling feverishly. Azazel's hands roam over her body, slipping under her dress to grasp her soft, round ass before squeezing tightly.

Cherrie grinds her body against him, feeling his hardness against her belly. With a swift movement, Azazel lifts her, pressing her back against the wall, her legs wrapping around his waist. She can feel his arousal throbbing against her core, and she gasps out as he enters her in one swift stroke.

They move as one, their mouths fused together, and their breaths coming in short, sharp bursts. Azazel's hands grip her thighs, holding her in place as he thrusts into her, their bodies slapping against the wall with each frantic push. Cherrie's nails dig into Azazel's shoulders, scratching down his back, marking him as her own. He groans, his rhythm becoming more urgent as his control slips and he surrenders to the pleasure. "Fuck, Cherrie," he pants, his eyes screwing shut as he sought release.

Cherrie tightens her legs around him, her head dropping back in pleasure, and her breasts heaving with each passionate breath. "Azazel, I'm close," she whispers, her voice hoarse with need. As if on cue, Azazel quickens his pace, his hips slamming against hers, their bodies a tangle of feverish need.

With a final, powerful thrust, they find their release, crying out in unison as pleasure washes over them. Azazel bites down on Cherrie's neck, marking her as she scratches his back, drawingblood. Their cries echo off the walls, a symphony of lust and lunacy.

As their bodies calm, Azazel lowers Cherrie to the ground, their legs weak from the intensity of their passion. They stand in the darkness, chests heaving, and lips swollen from their passionate kisses. Azazel brushes a stray lock of hair from Cherrie's face, his eyes soft with affection, a stark contrast to the violence of their coupling.

Cherrie smiles, her eyes glittering in the moonlight. "That was quite the dessert. Now, let's see what else the night has in store for us."

****

The city's warehouse district is like a ghost town. It’s the perfect setting for Azazel and Cherrie's date night. As they wander through the deserted streets, the neon lights of the abandoned funhouse beckons them. The faded sign, still alight after all these years, reads "Step Right Up" and the distorted laughter of a clown echoes through the darkness, adding to the eerie atmosphere.

"This place is perfect," Cherrie says enthusiastically. "It's like a twisted playground just waiting for us."

Azazel, always up for a new adventure, especially one that involves his beautiful partner, follows her lead. "What do you have planned for us, my dear? Another one of your brilliantly insane ideas, I presume?"

She turns to him, her face illuminated by the flickering neon lighting, and smiles. "Oh yes, my love. Tonight, we play a little game. Each room we enter will present a new challenge, a new opportunity for us to explore our deepest, darkest desires."

Azazel's eyes darken with anticipation. "Lead the way, my twisted queen. I'm eager to see what delights you have in store for me." Hand in hand, they step into the funhouse, the entrance creaking closed behind them.

The first room they enter is a maze of mirrors, the reflections distorting their bodies and creating an endless array of distorted images. Cherrie giggles as she watches their figures stretch and contort, her eyes lighting up at the endless possibilities.

“Baby girl, your blind ass is going to lose against these mirrors and gain an injury.” Azazel jokes.

“Then you can fix me all up, or fuck me up even more." Cherrie giggles.

“Babe, I don’t think you can get more fucked up than that pretty, little head of yours already is.”

“Come on, let's play a game of hide-and-seek," she proposes, her voice echoing in the small space. "I'll give you a head start and then I'll come find you. Then you fuck me; no negotiations." Azazel's heart races at the thought of being hunted by his woman.

---