Page 50 of The River of Fire

He’s looking down at me from the raised dais the throne is set upon, a lazy and indulgent smile decorating his devastating face.

“Come here.” He pats one of his strong thighs in invitation. He’s wearing his leather armor, still menacing, but more comfortable than plate.

I look around in a mocking search. “Are you sure no demonesses will fly out of the walls to try and rip off my face?”

His smile grows, dimples gracing his sculpted cheeks, and his eyes glow with heat and satisfaction. “I will hold my temper next time. I find that watching you annihilate any competitors for my attention would serve as a titillating memory every time I’m inside you.”

“Oh, get over yourself,” I snort, but climb up the steps until I’m on even ground. “Why would I have to fight for your attention when I have it all to myself without lifting a finger as it is?” My voice is sugary sweet and I sit on the proffered thigh, back resting on the arm he wraps around me. When I look up at him, I see he’s still smiling, gazing at me with a look that scares me with its warmth.

I gulp and try to slice through the tension. “What did Sariel and Armaros find out?”

“It could be no other female offspring other than your teammate, Simone.”

I roll my eyes at him. “I could have told you that. A disappearance would be impossible to hide at Purgatory. We’re like a high school, only less hormonal.”

He’s smiling at me like I’m his favorite kitten in the litter. Since I can’t pinch him through the thick leather armor, I just scrunch up my nose, likely compounding the whole high school thing.

“So, what now?” I ask.

“They’re on their way to the mortal realm to begin investigating her family.”

His expression betrays some consternation. Naturally, I tease him about it. “It’s not nice when you’re left out of the action, eh?”

That sly smirk makes its reappearance. That’s much better. “Do you wish to participate in the briefings then?”

“Mhm,” I hum, tracing the curlicues of his armor over his breastbone, just as I traced the lines of his seal in a grimoire not long ago.

“Very well, lamb.” His grin bares his teeth and there’s a smidgeon of evil there. “But don’t complain when you fall asleep at the table once I drag you out of bed for a briefing in the middle of the night.”

I tug at the lock of raven black hair falling over his cheek and he laughs in surprise and delight.

“What do you do in the middle of the night? When you’re not having briefings or holding court, I mean.” I tuck the lock of hair behind his ear, caressing its shell once I’m done.

A purr rumbles in his chest. “Perhaps I count your freckles. Then again the next night to make sure I did not err the night before.”

I side-eye him. “That’s just creepy.” And romantic.

He chuckles at the mocking expression on my face. “Of all the things I did for you, that is what you find creepy?”

I freeze for a beat, then throw my head back and laugh, the sound echoing in the empty throne room. The fact that I really shouldn’t be laughing just makes me unable to stop doing so.

When I look at him I find his eyes fixed on my mouth. Hegently pulls me closer, a suggestion instead of a command, and I loop my arms around his neck so I can bring my mouth closer to his. I love that mouth, truly. When it’s between my legs, just the thought of it being there pushes me to the edge with the speed of a fighter jet. Instead of kissing him, I slowly lick his upper lip, following its contours, lingering over the cupid’s bow.

He must have been holding his breath because he expels it in a burst with a sound close to a moan. I swear my eyes roll to the back of my head. I have a feeling this demon could make me come just by moaning in my ear.

Wanting more of the sound, I stand up, his hands letting me go with reluctance. Holding his gaze, I lower myself to my knees between his feet and casually spread legs. He watches me with a clenched jaw, his fiery eyes so intense it almost looks like he’s furious. But I know those eyes now and I’m not afraid. I slowly drag my palms up the tops of his leather-clad thighs. “Let me,” I whisper.

He’s immovable, observing me intently, either looking for something in my expression or memorizing the sight of me on my knees before his throne. Slowly he moves his hands to the buckle of his belt to unfasten it. The clinking of metal on metal is loud in the quiet room, as is the whisper of leather against skin once he lifts himself just enough to slide his pants low enough to free his cock.

He’s completely hard already, skin stretched over the veiny shaft, the tip glistening. I scoot closer, then lower my lips to the root of his dick, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his testicles before angling my head. I drag the tip of my nose up the heated flesh of his rod, inhaling the clean musky scent. His breathing turns ragged and I look up at him to give him a smug smile of my own, enjoying the power I hold. His mouth is slightly parted, his eyes restless, bouncing from my mouth to my eyes, then to the tops of my hands at the junction of his thighs, and then starting over. His hands are already clenched on the armrests.

Keeping ahold of his gaze, I extend my tongue and lick over the frenulum. The loud hiss he releases and the clenching of hismuscles under my palms spur me on, and I angle my head again and close my lips over the area, gently sucking and swiping at it with my tongue.

“Fuck!” he growls, releasing the armrest to grip my hair. “You have a… wicked mouth,” he says between panted breaths.

With a wink at his flabbergasted expression, I extend my tongue fully and lick a path from root to tip, then suck out the bead of precum waiting for me at the top. His thigh muscles spasm and I smile, my lips gently caressing the head of his cock. I draw back a couple of inches and spit on it.

He yells lightly in surprise, then uses his hands in my hair to tilt my head back. “You are a filthy, filthy girl,” he rumbles. “I believe I will need to clean you with my tongue.”

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