Halo Of Horns

TWENTY-SIX

Azazel's talons tore through her nightgown when he grabbed around her waist, pulling her impossibly close.

His cock ached, pressed against his pants as it sprang to life from her delicate scent. He could feel her goosebumps under his fingertips and smell the desire that rushed through her.

She was finally all his. How his life had changed in a mere few days but those days all felt like eternity colliding together. Everything he ever wanted, ever wished for, all felt insignificant and moronic when she was the only thing he could imagine needing for the rest of his existence.

His lips guided her, his tongue slipping inside and tasting her ever so gently. Gentle. A word he rarely used but needed to learn.

For her.

Irina moaned as his hands trailed down to her hips, her short stature making it difficult. In one great swoop, he hoisted her up against the door, balancing her with a tight grip on her thighs.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, but there wasn't much need, his strength holding her up just fine. Her hands gripped the curled ends of his hair at the nape of his neck, drawing a snarl from the back of his throat.

Irina began to grind her hips against him, searching for relief to her aching core. She wanted him to touch her, to feel her. She needed him too.

Her eyes clouded with want and her skin burned, sizzling from just the thought of him. She slid the thin straps of her nightgown off her shoulder, the lacy top covering her breasts, falling away. Her nipples were perked in excitement, or from the sudden chill, either way Azazel was beyond entranced.

"Azazel, please."

Begging.

"I like begging." He replied with a sly grin stretched across his face, "Try a bit harder." He teased, his nose trailing down her collarbone and his lips caressing her pale skin.

Irina's movements became frantic, reaching out for more, "Please! I need you to touch me." She whimpered, "please!"

"Touch you? How would you like me to touch you?" He squeezed her thighs, slowly lowering her back to the ground with accompanying whimpers of protest, "Don't whine. I can't touch you if I'm holding you."

"Yes, you can!" She argued.

He looked her up and down, his brow arched, "How?"

Irina frowned. She took one of his hands in her own and turned around so her back was pressed against him. She guided his hand over her shoulder and down to her chest. His fingers teased her nipple, making her breathing stutter.

"What do I do with my other hand?" He asked, gliding his free hand across her stomach.

Irina closed her eyes and tilted her head back, "Touch me." She moaned, "Don't ask me where."

He chuckled deeply in her ear, "How did you know that's what I would ask?" He kissed behind her ear, trailing down her neck and to her shoulder. His hands glided up from her stomach, to her breasts, gripping them roughly. His tongue swiped across her neck.

"It may have been four years but you're still the same man you were when you left." Her body swayed against his, leaning into each of his kisses, and tempting in every way, "Stubborn, arrogant, and stupid."

His left hand left her chest, grabbing around her neck, and forcing her head further back so she was looking at him, "I didn't hear you." He smirked, "Would you care to say that again?"

"And handsome." Irina corrected with a sly smile, not the slightest bit intimidated. It was a new feeling for her. Comfort around a man that had long haunted her nightmares, but she couldn't deny the desire that pooled between her legs and claimed her heart.