Page 19 of Love in the Dark

Azazel smiles, his eyes darkening with desire. "You know I live for those moments, Cherrie. The power we hold, the control we exert...It's an addiction. And the way we left him in that grave... Fuck, it makes me hard just thinking about it." He leans forward, his voice lowering to a husky murmur. "But now, we have a new playground–a new arena to indulge our desires."

Their eyes scan the restaurant, noting the other patrons. They imagine the secrets each person holds, the hidden desires and darker impulses lurking beneath the polished veneer. The idea of uncovering those secrets, of pushing boundaries and exploring taboo territories, excite them immensely.

Cherrie's eyes light upon a young couple sitting nearby, their body language suggestive of a first date. The man seems nervous, his gestures stiff and unsure, while the woman exudes a subtle sensuality, clearly enjoying the power she holds over her date. "Look at those two," she whispers, a mischievous look in her eye. "I wonder what it would take to push them over the edge."

Azazel follows her gaze, a slow smile spreading across his face. "They're playing with fire, that's for sure. One wrong move and things could get very interesting." He pauses, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "But we could always fan the flames, see if we can make things a little more... exciting for them."

As they finish their champagne, they signal for the waiter, placing their orders with deliberate nonchalance. They request a particular bottle of wine, a rare vintage known for its complexity and subtle hints of dark fruit. It’s a wine that demands to be savored, its flavors unfolding like a well-crafted tale. Their meal arrives, a symphony of flavors that dance upon their taste buds. They eat slowly, savoring each bite, the conversation meandering through various topics, always circling back to their shared passion for pushing boundaries.

As the dinner progresses, they become more daring, their hands venturing under the table, caressing each other's thighs. The restaurant buzzes with conversation and the clatter of cutlery, providing a subtle cover for their intimate exchanges.

Between the main course and dessert, they excuse themselves, rising from the table with a subtle air of anticipation. They make their way to the restrooms, their steps purposeful. Upon entering, they pause, their eyes meeting. A silent communication passes between them. Azazel locks himself and Cherrie in a stall, his heart pounding with anticipation.

"I need you," she whispers.

Azazel reaches out, his hand sliding under her skirt, his fingers tracing the smooth curve of her thigh. He finds her wet and ready, her desire matching his own. With urgent passion, they come together, their kisses hungry and deep. The sound of their hurried lovemaking fills the empty restroom, their moans and gasps echoing off the walls.

In the heat of the moment, they forget about their surroundings, lost in a world that exists only for the two of them. Azazel thrusts into Cherrie with fierce abandon, their bodies moving in perfect sync. Their passion builds, a wildfire raging out of control, consuming them both. As their orgasms approaches, they cling to each other, their voices stifled by the intense pleasure washing over them. In that moment, they owned the world, and their love was the only law. Their cries of ecstasy drowned out the steady drip of the faucet, the only witness to their transgression.

Returning to their table, they settle back into their seats, a satisfied glow emanating from them. The dessert arrived, a rich chocolate soufflé that mirrors the decadence of their evening. They savor each bite, their fingers lightly touching, their eyes holding a world of secrets. Azazel's phone starts dinging, breaking the moment. He glances at the screen, a shadowpassing over his features. Cherrie, ever attentive, notices the shift in his demeanor. "Everything okay, my love?" she asks, her voice sultry.

Azazel hesitates, his thumb hovering over the screen. "It's work," he replies, his voice low. "A job. I need to take this."Cherrie's eyes sparkle with a mischievous light. "Of course, darling. I'll be right here, waiting for you." She leans in, her breath warm on his ear, and adds, "Perhaps I'll keep myself entertained while you take care of business."

With a subtle wink, Azazel stands, smoothing his suit jacket. "Order whatever you like, my treat." He kisses her knuckles, his lips lingering for a moment, before turning and striding towards the restroom.

Cherrie watches him go, a sly smile playing on her lips. She takes a slow, deliberate sip of her wine, her eyes scanning the room. Other diners are wrapped up in their own worlds, oblivious to the thrilling undercurrents surrounding this unconventional couple.

As Azazel enters the restroom, his phone vibrates again. He steps into a stall, locking the door behind him, and reads the message: "Target acquired. Proceed with caution. This one's a challenge."

The killer in him stirs, a familiar thrill running through his veins. He loves the thrill of the chase, the intricate dance of death he performs with his targets. It’s a game, a deadly game, and Azazel is a master player.

The message continues:"She's a tricky one. Always on the move. You'll need to be discreet. No witnesses."Azazel's fingers dance across the screen, his reply swift and efficient.

"Understood. Consider it done."

As he sends the message, he can't help but think of Cherrie, waiting for him at their table. Back at the table, Cherrie sips her drink, her eyes dancing with anticipation. She lovesthese moments, the intricate dance of their unconventional relationship. While Azazel is away, she lets her eyes wander, taking in the other patrons. A couple catches her eye, their body language stiff, perhaps on an awkward first date. A lone businessman nurses a drink, his eyes glued to his phone, no doubt tending to important dealings. An elderly pair celebrate a special occasion, their eyes shining with love that has endured the test of time.

Cherrie's smile grows as she imagines the secrets and stories hidden within these walls. She loves the theater of it all, the performance that masks the darker truths lurking beneath the surface. As she lifts her hand to signal for another drink, her eyes catch a glimpse of movement. It's Azazel, emerging from the restroom, his presence filling the atmosphere. Their eyes lock once more, and she feels a rush of desire mixed with something darker.

Azazel approaches the table, his gaze intense. He slides into his chair, his leg brushing against hers. "Now, where were we?" he asks, his voice a low rumble. Cherrie leans in, her lips close to his ear. "I was just imagining all the secrets hiding in this room," she whispers. "The lies, the affairs, and the untold stories."

A wicked smile crosses Azazel's face. "And here I thought you'd be impatiently waiting for me." Cherrie's hand slides into his, her thumb stroking his skin. "Oh, I was. But a girl has to keep herself entertained, doesn't she?"

Their eyes hold a silent understanding. This is their world, a labyrinth of secrets and shadowed desires. They thrive in the gray areas, navigating the blurred lines between passion and profession with ease. Azazel signals for the waiter, ordering another round of drinks and a decadent dessert to share. "We should make the most of this evening," he says, his eyes glittering. "Who knows what tomorrow will bring?"

Cherrie's smile is sly when she nods in agreement. "Indeed. We embrace the unknown, my love. It's what makes life worth living."

While they indulge in their dessert, their fingers intertwine again under the table. The restaurant seems to fade away, the other diners becoming mere shadows in the periphery of their intimate bubble.

Azazel's mind momentarily flickers to the task at hand–the upcoming hit. But it only serves to heighten his senses, the thrill of the job intertwining with his desire for Cherrie. He lives for these moments, when the boundaries between his two worlds blur, and he embraces the darkness within. Finishing their dessert, they rise from the table, their movements graceful and in sync. Azazel settles the bill, his eyes never leaving Cherrie's. They leave the restaurant, stepping back into the night, their story continuing on a path laced with danger, desire, and the unknown.

The city streets stretch before them, a maze of possibilities. Their steps echo on the sidewalk, their shadows merging and dancing in the lamplight. Azazel's mind ticks, formulating a plan as they move. Their destination is a gala, the kind that serves expensive alcohol and harbors even more expensive secrets. Weaving through the crowd, Azazel and Cherrie make their way to a quiet corner, their eyes scanning the room. Azazel scans the faces, looking for his mark, while Cherrie takes in the atmosphere, her eyes alight with excitement. Azazel leans in, hisvoice low. "She's here. Over by the pool table. The blonde in the blue dress."

Cherrie follows his gaze, spotting a woman with an air of confidence. "She doesn't look so tricky," Cherrie remarks.

Azazel chuckles darkly. "Looks can be deceiving. She's a serpent, apparently always slithering away just as you think you have her cornered."

Cherrie's eyes narrow, her adventurous spirit rising to the challenge. "Well, it seems I'm not the only serpent around here."

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