Azagoth: A Demonica Novella (1001 Dark Nights) by Larissa Ione Page A

the silk fabric of her underwear.
    “How many lovers have you had, angel?” He kissed the swell of her breasts and worked his way down her belly.
    “One,” she breathed. “Just one. And I don’t want to talk about him.”
    Neither did he. Partly because he didn’t want any other male to be here right now, and partly because he’d just had the strangest urge to arrange for that male’s painful death.
    Eager to wipe the bastard from her memory, he reared back on his heels and yanked her boots off, followed by her jeans and underwear. It was all done in a matter of seconds, and then his clothes joined hers on the floor, torn and wadded.
    Ah, damn, she was gorgeous, sprawling naked in front of him like a feast to be savored. Her hair fanned out in silky waves on the Persian rug, her kiss-swollen mouth parted for her panting breaths, and her thighs spread just enough to catch a glimpse of the bare, glistening female flesh between them.
    Her gaze dropped to his groin, and at the sight of his thick sex, her eyes flared. Oh, yeah, she wanted it.
    Smiling, he wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked. The tip of her tongue came out to swipe her bottom lip, and he groaned at the sudden image of those lips wrapped around his shaft, that tongue flicking and laving.
    Releasing himself, he leaned forward and cupped her intimately. Fuck, she was burning hot down there, and he groaned again as he pushed a finger between her folds. Every cell in his body was vibrating as he dragged his fingertip through her wet heat to that swollen knot of nerves that made her gasp.
    He stroked, lightly at first, avoiding the sensitive tip. In moments she was panting and grinding, arching into him and riding his hand as her taut body chased the pleasure he was giving her. Holy hell, she was a wild thing, gripping him so hard her nails dug into his skin. He had to taste her. It wasn’t a desire; it was almost a biological imperative.
    Jacking his body off of her, he reared back, hooked his hands under her hips, and dove between her luscious thighs. He buried his face against her sex, reveling in how slick her flesh was against his mouth. He spread her wide with his thumbs as he used the flat of his tongue to lick right up her center.
    She cried out as the tip of his tongue clipped her clit. He did it again, and she cried louder, her body quivering, her fingers clamped on his scalp to hold him exactly where she needed him.
    She tasted like sugar cane and passion fruit, clean grass and crystal water, all things he hadn’t seen, felt, or tasted in eons.
    “Azagoth,” she gasped. “I’m going to...oh, yes .”
    She bucked wildly, tossing her head back and forth, her body straining and her hips lifting off the floor as she came. Beautiful , he thought. So. Fucking. Beautiful.
    Even before she came down, he mounted her, desperate to get inside and feel something besides the cold.
    “Wait,” she breathed, reaching for him. “Let me—”
    Panting, crazy with need, he started to insert a finger to test her tightness...and froze.
    Betrayal squeezed him like a vise, and all the emotions he’d managed to put away began to rise to the surface again.
    “You lied,” he croaked. “You’re a virgin.”
    “No,” she said firmly. “I’ve joined with a male in the way of angels.”
    Some might see the whole soul-sex thing as, well, sex, but even as an angel, he’d preferred the messy, downright dirty physical sex that humans had. So maybe she hadn’t lied, but she hadn’t been completely honest, either.
    Sitting up, she palmed his chest, holding him with her gaze. “You’re getting that crazy look again.” She dragged her hand down, over his sternum, his abs, and finally, with a shaking hand, she grasped his cock.
    “Shit,” he gasped.
    She had him now. He was hers for the taking, and as her hand began to move, so did his hips. He pumped into her closed fist, his hips pistoning back and forth as she worked him.
    His head fell back, and he