He blinked slowly and then looked at her, really looked for the first time, and didn’t turn away.
Her entire being opened to him, wanting him closer, needing to know everything that made him who he was, good and bad.
He touched her cheek.
She turned her face into his palm and kissed it, savoring the intimacy.
“Hey!” A demon shouted from the benches. “What’s this girly shit?”
Other protests rose.
“Those two are pussies,” Giselle said. “Especially Milly. She doesn’t know how to get it on or satisfy any guy.”
What a fool. These quiet moments were as important to Megan as humping like the debased. She kissed the area where Vespar’s navel should have been, but wasn’t. The same as on Andros, a brief horizontal line replacing their bellybuttons. Apparently angels, fallen or otherwise, weren’t born. They’d missed out on a family, as she had except for Holly. Their loss—and the hurt they might have felt—bound them to her further.
“Hey, dummy,” Giselle said. “You’re missing his cock by a freaking mile.”
The audience laughed.
Megan tilted her face to his. “How many Hard Lust tokens do I need to buy a gag for her?”
He chuckled.
She did, too, then wound her arms around him to keep him near. “Why did you stop? We’re not through, are we?”
Pleasure and anticipation lit his features. “Nope.”
She gestured to the bed. “We’re going to use that?”
His grin crinkled his eyes. “Would you prefer a torture bar?”
Not with him. “A what?”
“The thing Giselle secured you to.”
A nasty item. “I’d prefer the bed.” She held out her hand. “Help me up?”
An invisible force lifted her, then dropped her onto the mattress.
It bounced, and the brass frame squeaked. “You need to work on your landings.”
“Yeah?” His pants and biker boots were gone, leaving nothing except his glorious flesh. He crawled across the mattress and pushed her onto her back, his nose to hers. “You don’t like how I operate?”
Right now, there wasn’t one damn thing about him she found offensive. Greek gods had nothing on his looks or body, while his personality at times like this made her heart sing. “We’re talking too much.” She cupped his face and slanted her mouth over his.
Ohhhh. The discrepancy between his bristly cheeks and cushiony lips thickened her blood. She drove her tongue into his mouth.
He stilled.
She swept his teeth and inner cheeks, taking what she could while she had the chance.
He didn’t allow her dominance for long, his tongue battling hers and winning.
Surrender had never felt so good. She suckled his tongue, urging it deeper.
He rolled them over until she was on top, her pussy snug against his cock, nipples crushed to his pecs, their mouths joined.
Kissing frantically, they writhed and dipped from side to side, each trying to get closer to the other. Nothing they did worked.
Frustrated, she held him as tightly as she could.
His passion slowed and gentled, this newest kiss deep and lazy, exploring more than her lips and tongue. He’d reached her soul.
Giselle was wrong. Megan still had one. It fluttered within her and came alive at his desire.
…
Vespar
Vespar wasn’t certain what was happening to him. Exhilarated and frightened he couldn’t stop kissing Megan, her mouth his holy grail. This, when he’d kissed millions, possibly billions of other women throughout time.
They satisfied for a moment. She nourished something within him he hadn’t noticed was missing until now.
She smoothed his hair and stroked his shoulders.
Heat surged in both areas, leaving residual pleasure. It wasn’t an orgasm but came fucking close.
For reasons he didn’t understand, he needed to show his prowess and pressed his arm against her waist, keeping her to him. His mouth made certain she wasn’t going anywhere.
They kissed as if they meant it, which he did, much to his surprise. Even in Heaven, he hadn’t been the romantic sort. Sex up there was so infrequent and on the sly, he claimed what he could, fast. His and every other male’s creed became “wham bam thank you ma’am.”
Down here, he could fuck as much as he wanted yet didn’t take his time to enjoy.
Certainly not as he did now.
This couldn’t be wise.
He pulled his mouth from hers, their breath colliding. He liked her minty scent. Whatever she used on Earth to cause it, he wanted the product down here so she could maintain the fragrance each time they kissed.
If they did so again. He wasn’t sure he should chance it. Her impact on him was growing weirder by the second. Until meeting her, he wouldn’t have believed he’d enjoy such a stubborn female. If her bitching had been about the uncouth goons in here, he would have dismissed it as a cross she had to bear.
To his dismay, her arguments to Andros made sense. The demon had set her up for a fall. The guys’ favorite pastime in the club, which always resulted in their dicks getting harder.
Vespar was surprised he hadn’t considered the conduct before and feared what else she might do or say to bring uncomfortable matters to his attention.
She forced her lids up. They slid back down. “Why did you stop?”
Her lips were puffy from his and Andros’s kisses, their stubble having reddened her cheeks. A stray hair lay across her forehead, the end caught on her slender eyebrow. He couldn’t count the women down here who had freckles as she did, though none as adorable. Theirs were too numerous or colored like snail slime. Hers were lighter than her hair, a perfect shade.
Look at me.
Although she couldn’t read his mind, nor could he project his thoughts into her skull—since demonic possession didn’t exist down here—she gazed at him.
His previous envy, hurt, or whatever it had been, at her connection with Andros, dissolved into reverence for the woman she was.
Satan must have made a mistake. She didn’t belong here with the others like Giselle or even Katie. Though sweet, she and those similar to her had sold their souls for selfish reasons: a man’s love, beauty, a nice body, fame, wealth, privilege, or power.
Not Megan. He couldn’t imagine a more noble act than what she’d done.
“What?” She smiled self-consciously.