Page 50 of The River of Hatred

“My Sariel,” I say out loud, unable to hold it in. I slide an inch deeper.

“My Itha,” he replies, pulling my face down for a soft kiss. As he does, my cock bottoms out in his ass and he hisses against my lips. “Mmm, so fucking good,” he grunts. “You’re perfect, Itha,” he praises me next.

I’m trembling, overwhelmed by our connection and by the sensations originating in my groin. Our tongues clash as I instinctively begin moving in a dance as old as time, claiming my love. My sack hits his round ass each time I bottom out, and each time I pull out I feel the tight ring of his opening milking me. I don’t think I’ll last long.

Just as I have the thought, Sar speaks up. “Change your angle. Fuck, that’s it, just like that. Faster,” he commands.

“I’m… close,” I grit through clenched teeth.

My words are followed by a muffled moan to my right. Our eyes turn and we take in Jessica, one hand covering her mouth, the other between her legs. “Don’t stop,” she breathes after removing her hand. “I’m so close too.”

“You’re both so fucking hot,” Sariel growls, then digs his hands into my flesh, urging me on.

Less than a dozen pumps later, I’m keening into Sariel’s wide-open mouth as my spend floods his tight tunnel. I feel Sariel erupting between our bodies, deep growls leaving his throat in time with the spurts of liquid. Jessica sobs at our sides, chanting our names as she rides her own climax.

“Welcome… to the city of love,” Sariel says haltingly between ragged breaths.

Chapter 24 – Jessica

Paris

Can’t believe I’m having coffee and croissants in Paris’ artsy district. After four years in Hell, though, I’d even take Death Valley. Heck, I'd take a burnt ‘Bucks drip from a drive-thru.

“So you don’t think the bad people are here in Paris?” I ask Sariel, wiping a crumb off my chin and sighing with contentment.

“Bad people? What are you, five?” He shakes his head and tugs on my ponytail.

After watching the hottest live sex show ever and fifteen more hours of sleep, I spent two hours in Sariel’s bathtub, scrubbing every inch of myself in the world’s bubbliest bubble bath.

“But, no,” he continues, his gaze now on the angel with us – not having any coffee, but observing the throng of tourists and the art displays – so handsome in his borrowed human clothing. “The compound where Arma… their compound was in the south of France. We heard intel about a warehouse in Marseille and were about to check it out when… yeah.”

I place my hand on top of the Fallen’s, his eyes hidden by opaque sunglasses. I have no idea how they managed to go unnoticed from wherever the rift was to Sar’s apartment in filthy armor and carrying an unconscious woman. His broken speech and effort to avoid mentioning Armaros’ death out loud show me how raw the wound still is for him. I heard from Lana that they were more than just friends.

On my other side, Itha grabs Sariel’s shoulder, completing the circle. A young woman from the neighboring table throws us a curious glance before turning back to her book. I squint to read the title.Their Darkest Desireby Amaya Jax. I’ve read that – Lana has Maalik bringing all sorts of smut down to Purgatory for years. If the woman only knew paranormal creatures are already right next to her.

“What is the best way to get to Marseille?” Itha asks, breaking the silence. “I don’t think flying is possible among humans anymore. Their technology is too advanced.”

I shake my head. “Hell, no. We’d be on the news before you could say ‘They are among us – call Mulder and Scully.’”

Sariel smirks. “She’s right; they’d thinkaliensway beforeangels. E.T.’s on the TV way more than Jesus.”

“So that leaves us with…? Isn’t Marseille on the other side of France?” I chew on my bottom lip, mentally preparing for an all-night road trip. Though I bet Sariel owns some sexy cars, if his luxury apartment is anything to go by.

“If we take the TGV, we’ll be there in three hours,” he says as if it’s already decided.

“What is the TGV?” Itha asks and I nod along with the question.

“It’s the bullet train here. It’s fast as fuck, comfortable, there’s food and the view doesn’t suck either.”

So, it’s decided. After two more coffees, as befits an addict as deprived as I was, we take the metro to Gare de Lyon. I love listening to Sariel speak French. While I had French at school and passed the classes, he uses it like he was born here. I guess it makes sense since he was around at its inception. If anyone finds it weird that the two men with me are wearing sunglasses in the underground metro, they don’t show it. Everyone seems to be minding their own business.

Sariel finds two empty seats and pulls me into his lap, patting the other for Itha to join. I tip the angel’s chin up and lean down to give him a soft kiss. After a few seconds, I can feel Sar hardening under my ass. It’s gonna be awkward when we get up.

“We should come here once we’re done,” I whisper against Ithuriel’s lips. “If Maalik and Daniel will let me. Head up to the Eiffel Tower. Visit the catacombs. Oh, and I always wanted to see Versailles and the Louvre.” I squirm in excitement, making Sariel grunt a warning. Flushing, I freeze, looking around to see if we’re drawing any gazes. Surprisingly, no one cares that we’re an obvious threesome.

I take a longer look at the people around us. I’m not sure how I feel being surrounded by just normal humans, no leather armor, no weapons, no orange glow of Hell. I always thought I’d be overwhelmed by emotion if I could come back here. Now, I think I’m so anchored by the two angels with me that my feelings don’t have a chance to drag me away. Before them, I was afloat in Detroit, afloat in Hell, and would have been afloat here too.

Sariel interrupts my thoughts by squeezing my thigh. “We have to change lines at the next stop.”

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