“My mother never had much of a maternal instinct.” Michelene held her head down. She didn’t really have a reason for doing it; nothing she said would make Azriel turn away from her. She just—the pity in Pierre’s eyes had always infuriated her, and shamed her. It would kill her to have Azriel look at her that way. But he would not be denied. “When I was very little, she left Pierre and me with our father. I used to think she just didn’t know about my father, about what he liked
…
”
“And was that, Michelene?” Azriel startled her by asking.
Right. When she trailed off, she’d stopped talking altogether. Without realizing it, her mind had immediately begun searching for the right words to gloss it all over. Little euphemisms that would say it without her having to give voice to it. Whenever her thoughts drifted to that black, dank corner of her memory she glossed over it to herself. Why did she do that?
“My father was a pedophile.” She surprised herself by looking directly into his gaze as she spat out the words. Like she was daring him. Maybe in a way she was. So she pushed, just to test him. Let’s see if he could still look at her without feeling sorry for herself. “I was his favorite, you know. Even though he had boatloads of girls at least once a month, he would always sneak into my room when the help or Pierre weren’t around. And he always found places to send Pierre off to.” Still not pity. No anything. He just watched her silently, and for the first time, his eyes were completely void of emotion.
“Continue.”
Damn it, she’d stopped talking again.
“He always felt guilty afterwards. There was a priest who lived with us then. Father Emmanuel. I know damn well they shared girls sometimes, when there was some poor kid that caught my father’s eye. But he would still confess to that bastard anyway. Like one sick freak could absolve the other. He—Father Emmanuel—would make
me
confess for tempting my father. But because I was a ‘daughter of Lilith,’ I had to do so nude. On my knees. Like right now.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel guilty, Michelene?” God, did he have to sound so gentle, so freaking understanding when he said that?
“No.” Yeah, she had totally said it on purpose. It was true, but she’d punctuated every word so she could make him feel bad.
Thank God it hadn’t worked. And he still didn’t look like he pitied her. He looked
…
proud.
“Yes, you did. But I forgive you. This time. Continue. And no interruptions this time.”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she had to take a deep breath before going on.
“He never touched me—Father Emmanuel, I mean. He would look at me like he wanted to, but he never even tried. Maybe my father threatened him. I don’t know. I hated them both. I wanted to kill them both. But the night my father died, the priest took his body somewhere, and I never saw him again.”
Damn, that felt good! It was like she had been released from something that had been weighing her down. Partially, anyway. There was more.
“How did your father die?” Azriel pressed in a quiet, but firm voice.
How could he have possibly known? Their gazes collided and held; she couldn’t look away. She couldn’t lie. And there was no way he was going to let her get away with not answering.
“I killed him.” No one except Pierre and Father Emmanuel knew that for sure. Now Azriel knew what she'd never dared to even think about too long. “Pierre walked in on a confession. I don’t know how much he heard, but he lost it. He attacked my father with a knife, but the priest was there to help him. I just sat there crying. My father beat Pierre pretty bad. He was only ten. There wasn’t much he could do against two grown men.”
“I’m not interested in excuses for your brother, Michelene.” Azriel cut her off as she babbled on in her brother’s defense.
“He has nothing to be excused for!” she shot back. Naked and on her knees she might be, but Pierre wasn’t at fault here, and she wasn’t going to allow Azriel to blame him.
“So you say.” He was completely unfazed by her outburst. “Tell me how your father died.”
“I slit his throat.” There. She said it. “Pierre was hurt pretty bad, but he gave me a switchblade the very next morning, teaching me how to use it. He told me if my father ever came into my room again, I should wait for the right moment and cut him across the jugular. That very night I killed him. I didn’t just cut his throat, I stabbed him repeatedly, screaming. That’s how Father Emmanuel found me. He cleaned me up and told me to go sleep in Pierre’s room. The next morning my mother was back, my room was clean and my father was just gone. My mother acted like it never happened. So I did too.” She shrugged. “The only person I ever told was Pierre. How did you know?”
“I guessed.”
Wow, was she really that transparent?
“Yeah, well at least my mother waited until after puberty before she dangled me in front of men she wanted to make alliances with. I was seventeen before she made me whore for the good of the family business. I got tired of it. So when she tried to sell me off permanently, I tried to do the same thing to her that I did to my father. I even used the same switchblade. Then I ran. I should’ve waited. I should’ve made sure she was dead
…
”
There was nothing left. The whole thing, telling it from beginning to end, was exhausting. She wanted to cry; she wanted to sleep—hell, she had no idea what she wanted.
“Two more questions.” Azriel guided her head down to his knee, then began to stroke her hair. It felt sublime, that simple caress. She felt cherished, all from this small act. “Why didn’t you go to your brother when you mother informed you she’d arranged a marriage for you? And are you very sure you want to be the one who kills her?”
Not “Are you sure you want her dead?” but “Are you sure you want to be the one that kills her?” God, she loved this man so much!
“Pierre was in the Middle East. She always timed things like that,” she mumbled against the fine linen of his slacks. Damn, she felt drained. None of it mattered anymore. Not her father or her mother. “I had no way to contact him. She saw to that. Even if I called, he wouldn’t have made it home in time. I never told him about May because he would’ve killed her in a fit of rage. That would’ve been disastrous for him. And yes, I want to kill her. It is my right.”
“Then you will.” So simple. So straightforward. There was no doubt in her mind he would make it happen. “Come.” All he had to do was pat his lap and she was there, nestled against his solid chest, snuggling in the stalwart arms that held her. “Father Emmanuel was the man stalking you. Now I have a good idea why. I will take care of him, and I will deliver your mother to you.”
Yes, he would. Because taking care of her was what he did.
***
Azriel didn’t move for well over an hour. Holding Michelene as she slept, he thought it best not to move lest he wake her up. Tonight had drained her, but he believed it was all for the best. Now there was nothing between them. She would never know how much her words had torn him apart. For years he’d taken contracts, uncaring about who he was killing or why. All the while there were people like her parents, and that sick-ass priest who really needed killing. Perhaps it was time to reevaluate his life choices. Later, of course, after this mess was cleaned up.
He hated to put her to bed, but eventually he had to. As much as he wanted to strip and crawl into bed with her, he quietly made his way back downstairs, walking past the little pile of clothes in the front room. Secretly he loved finding frilly, girly, pastel things all over the place. As well as the personal touches here and there. It made the place feel warmer. Like a home.
Shit, he was seriously turning into that guy. He was practically making himself sick. If only it didn’t feel so good.
With a rueful smile, he locked himself in his office and called Pierre.
“Spread the word in all the right places I’ll be at my beach house this weekend,” he told him quickly. He needed to get upstairs to his woman before she woke up. “Make sure Cruz’s people as well as your mother’s know. I want them all there.”
“I’ll be there too,” Pierre insisted. There was enough conviction on his voice that Azriel didn’t waste his time arguing. “I’ll be bringing backup.”
“As you wish.” This could potentially get messy. Azriel made a mental note to set up airtight alibis for Michelene and himself. “But your mother is Michelene’s to deal with as she wishes. The priest is all mine.”
But first, he was going to make him suffer.
The room was pitch dark when she woke. Azriel must’ve darkened the windows. He did that when he didn’t want anything to wake her. It made no difference; she didn’t need the light. His body was curled around hers, completely surrounding her with hard, male flesh. At first she just lay there, trying to figure out how she felt. There was an avalanche of emotions sweeping over her.
Peace. Security. Sadness.
And that rock-solid erection poking her in the backside was heating her blood at a rapid rate. Steady, rhythmic breathing behind her told her Azriel was asleep, but he was a really light sleeper.
Not so subtly she pressed back against him, using the cheeks of her ass to gently massage his cock. The wetness of precum gradually leaked onto her skin, giving her natural lubrication. Noting the change in his breathing, she began moving more aggressively, increasing her speed until she couldn’t stand it. She needed him.
“Azriel?” Why didn’t he take her? Generally when she teased him like this, he’d have her flipped over, dick deep inside her in seconds.
“Yes?” He wasn’t unaffected. There was a deep huskiness to his voice. That sexy drawl he got when he wanted her.
“Are you going to do anything?” She still hadn’t stopped moving. This agonizing hunger wouldn’t go away until he took her. Fucked her. Made her scream.
“I am doing something. I am lying next to you.”
Shit! She hated it when he got like this. Obstinate for the sake of being obstinate.
“Please fuck me.” Sometimes he just liked to make her say it. It was a hell of a lot easier to say it now. Those words had been so foreign to her in the beginning he had practically had to force them out of her. “I need you.”
Bad. Only he could relieve the fervent hunger centered deep inside her pussy.
“I’m right here, baby.” Rolling on his back, he casually placed his hands behind his head. “All yours.”
Wow, he really wasn’t going to do anything. That engorged cock was at attention, bobbing in the air as if it could sense her hunger. The little helmet at the tip glistened with proof he wanted her every bit as much as she wanted him. So why wasn’t he doing anything about it?
“Don’t you want me?” He did, she knew it. But his behavior was baffling. What exactly was he trying to prove?
“You know better,” he chided as if he had been inside her thoughts. But he didn’t move.
Urgh! The man was really trying to drive her insane.
“Michelene, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. If you want something, take it. I won’t stop you. I have every intention of loving every second.”
Indecision held her in place. In their time together she’d never been the one to initiate sex. Azriel had always been in complete control. She wasn’t sure if she could do this. Looking at him sprawled on the bed, waiting, watching her, he’d never looked more inviting to her. Reaching out, she ran her hand slowly across his chiseled chest. It was so odd how it felt so firm, yet so smooth. She could just make out little changes on his face as her hands moved lower to his pelvis, then even lower to cup his testicles. They were heavy, wrinkly but so very soft.
Just to experiment a little, she began to play with them. Just a little massage, a slight squeeze.
“Careful, baby,” he groaned, but didn’t make a move to stop her. “They’re fragile.”
Reluctantly she let them fall from her hands, moving on to his shaft. So wonderfully long, beautifully thick and hard. When she squeezed it, his face contorted instantly in a picture of anguished need. She felt an immediate, corresponding reaction deep in her gut. Gathering confidence, she began to move, stroking him up and down. She loved the way he felt. It was so stiff, so sleek. She could feel the veins straining against his skin. His hips moved but he otherwise stayed exactly where he was.
Okay, then.
Leaning over his large frame, she trailed kisses across his chest while she worked him. Oh, God, the way he moaned made the wetness in her pussy so much worse. Was there anything in the world sexier than the dark rumble of a man experiencing pleasure? Keeping one hand on his cock, she raked her nails across his chest while she bit him hard on his shoulder, just because she could.
That got a reaction. His body bucked, his hand flying out to grasp her hair in a punishing hold. Air hissed through his teeth, but he didn’t try to push her away.
“Keep teasing me and you’re going to get another spanking, little girl.”
She had to smile at the gruff warning. That was what she was counting on.
“I’m not a little girl.” She pouted, finally releasing his cock before sliding her body up his to lie on top of him fully.
“Prove it,” he challenged.
That was a dare she decided to take him up on, gladly.
Straddling him, she couldn’t resist sliding her dewy pussy up the length of his dick, teasing the head at the opening just a little. That look! The furious glare he gave her, so full of promises of payback. This was turning out to be a hell of a lot more fun than she’d thought. Canting her hips, she positioned him at her opening, then dropped down, forgetting to consider the length and girth of his shaft.
The breath left her lungs in a whoosh. Fuck, she couldn’t move, couldn’t draw in enough air! The burn was intense, stretching her more fully than when he took her from behind.
“It’s okay, baby. Just breathe. Breathe for me, sweetheart.”
The hands rubbing up her thighs, across her lower back, prompted her body to relax. The burn in her pussy perceptibly evolved from the almost too painful sting to pure liquid heat. She felt her channel flooding, adding the moisture she needed to move. Even if it hadn’t been so, she was helpless to do anything but move.
The friction was exquisite, relieving the ache, yet building the overall need. She could feel him, his dick gently pulsating inside her, jerking every so often as she slid her slippery inner walls up and down in a deliberate rhythm. Every nerve ending in her channel was alive, firing off tiny bubbles of delight inside her. Azriel grasped her hips, but refrained from attempting to guide her movements. Jaw set, his eyes blazed up at her, silently urging her on. Every time she paused that tic appeared, beads of sweat popping out all over his brow.
This was her doing; she was creating that wild, desperate look. Licking her lips, she braced her hands on his shoulders, sank all the way down on him, then swiveled her hips in a slow, circular motion. Holy fuck, that felt marvelously fantastic! The head of his cock hit something inside, deeper than her g-spot. Or maybe it more fully hit it. She didn’t have a clue and didn’t care. It felt to good to care about anything. She couldn’t stop the motion. Every twist caused his cockhead to press that spot, building and building until her body shook with an internal explosion so intense she screamed.
“Good girl,” Azriel purred at her. “But you’re not done.”
***
It had taken everything within him to allow her to explore his body to her heart’s content. Fuck, when she dropped that hot little pussy down on him, he wanted to do nothing less than flip her and pile-drive inside over and over again until she forgot her own name. This had been for her, so that she could be in control of her body, her pleasure.
Now it was time to remind her of the pleasure he could bring her when he was in charge. It was so easy to lift them both so they remained connected. Kneeling in the middle of the bed, he kept her seated on his lap, but was fully able to thrust up inside her.
“Ride with me, baby,” he growled, forcing her down on him as he powered up. “Show me what a good girl you are.”
So god damn beautiful. Fuck, he needed to kiss her. Her lips, her forehead, her neck. Anyplace his mouth could reach. The liquid-velvet pussy contracted at his words She loved to be called his “good girl.” And shit, that throbbing inside her cunt was heaven. Sweat coated their bodies; rough animalistic grunts filled the air. Yet he wanted more. He wanted her to know to whom she now belonged. There could be no doubt she was his. The drive to make an indelible mark on her very soul was primal and could not be denied.
Bending her body slightly backward, his mouth swept down to her breast. Sucking insistently on a nipple, he pounded her mercilessly. Her breasts were ultrasensitive, he knew through hours of exploratrion. As he intended, her pussy began to spasm, hard. Heaven or hell, he wasn’t sure which, but he knew all too well she’d gotten under his skin. She was in his fucking blood. One smile and she could drive him out of his mind.
Copious amounts of her juices bathed his cock, yet she was still so damn tight. She was going to make him come, but he didn’t want to stop. Never wanted to stop.
“Oh God! Oh God, Azriel!”
Fuck, yessss! There it was. Fingernails dug into his skin, perfect legs locked around his hips. The power of his orgasm rocked through him from his balls down to his toes. Clasping her body close against him, he erupted right along with her, pumping his very essence deep inside her.
“God, baby, I love you so fucking much,” he managed to choke out, rubbing his cheek against hers. He loved her so fucking much he was trembling from it. “I’ll never let anything hurt you ever again.”
“I know,” she sighed back at him. “That’s why I love you.”