Page 8 of Devil Wears Nada
A flash of something vulnerable crossed his face before the smirk returned. “Figure of speech. Though we have been fucking like immortal enemies for a week straight.”
It was true. We’d christened nearly every surface in my apartment—the couch, the kitchen counter, the shower, against the balcony door with the city lights spread out below us, and of course, repeatedly on my bed. Each time more intense than the last, each time ending with more broken glass and Van looking at me with increasing wonder.
What we hadn’t done was put a name to whatever this was.
“Speaking of which,” Van continued, stepping off the platform to stalk toward me with predatory grace, “all this measuring has me feeling particularly… inspired.”
“I have work to do,” I protested weakly, already backing up toward my cutting table. “Actual paying work.”
“Consider this a creative consultation,” he suggested, following me until my back hit the edge of the table. “I have so many ideas for your next collection.”
His hands found my waist, slipping under my shirt with practiced ease. After a week, he’d mapped every sensitive spot on my body with unerring accuracy.
“We can’t keep doing this every time we’re alone in a room together,” I said unconvincingly, even as my own hands betrayed me by sliding up his bare chest.
“Why not?” His lips found my neck, kissing a path up to my ear. “Name one good reason.”
“Professionalism,” I gasped as he nipped at my earlobe.
“Boring.” His hands made quick work of my shirt buttons.
“The glass replacement bill is getting expensive.” It was true—I’d had to replace three mirrors, two light fixtures, and a vase so far.
“I’ll learn control eventually,” he promised, pushing my shirt off my shoulders. “Consider it the cost of fucking a supernatural being.”
When he put it that way, it seemed like a bargain.
Chapter 4
I gave up the pretense of resistance and pulled Van against me, claiming his mouth in a hungry kiss. He made a pleased sound, threading his fingers through my hair as he pressed his body flush against mine.
We’d had a week of practice, and it showed. We moved together with a synchronicity that felt almost supernatural itself, each anticipating the other’s desires. I spun us around, lifting Van onto the cutting table in one smooth motion. He wrapped those long legs around my waist, grinding against me with deliberate friction.
“I’ve been thinking about this all morning,” he confessed against my lips. “Watching you work, those clever hands cutting and pinning… I kept imagining them on me.”
“Is that why you kept interrupting me every five minutes?” I asked, sliding my palms up his thighs.
“Obviously.” He leaned back on his elbows, a vision of debauchery among my pattern pieces. “What’s the point of falling to Earth if not to tempt a mortal into sin at every opportunity?”
I laughed, bending to kiss my way down his chest. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one tempting you at this point.”
“Semantics,” he gasped as I reached the waistband of his borrowed pajamas. “Though I must say, for a mere mortal, you’ve proven remarkably adept at— Oh!”
I’d slipped my hand inside the silk to wrap around his cock, effectively cutting off his typically verbose commentary. He was already fully hard, the tip slick with anticipation.
“You talk too much,” I murmured against his hip bone.
“Part of my charm,” he managed, though his usual composure was slipping. “Though I can think of better uses for my mouth if you’d— Fuck!”
I’d taken him into my mouth without warning, loving the way his usual eloquence dissolved into profanity when I caught him off guard. His hands flew to my hair, not guiding but just holding on as I worked him with deliberate skill.
“Lucas,” he moaned, his hips rising to meet me. “The things you do with that mouth should be classified as supernatural.”
I hummed around him, causing his thighs to tremble on either side of my head. In my peripheral vision, I saw the small decorative mirror I’d only just replaced develop a new crack down its center.
I pulled off long enough to say, “Try not to destroy my entire studio this time,” before diving back in with renewed enthusiasm.
“No promises,” he gasped, his head falling back as I took him deeper. “Especially if you keep—yes, exactly like that!”
