Touched by Death: (Sins of The Fallen book 3)

“Hey,” I breathe when the door creaks open, strings of hair shielding my face.

Amenadiel’s eyes fall down my naked, ruined body before skating past me toward the thick tree line behind me. Without a word, he steps aside and lets me enter the house. I’m ashamed to admit that relief floods me at the familiar scent of him that’s thick in the air. The door clicks shut, and the flames on the walls grow taller as he walks past. His shoulder brushes mine, causing my skin to break out in goosebumps. Dressed in a charcoal suit, his tie hanging loose around his neck, he looks tired, as though he’s spent endless nights awake. “It goes without saying that you shouldn’t be out by yourself when there’s a crazed stalker on the loose, yet here you are. Naked.” His teeth grind and then he says with a tired sigh, “I’ll be in the office. Grab yourself a shower.”This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - ©.

The tips of my ears heat at the reminder of what Daemon, Alaric, and Ronan did. I’m marked with their scent. It thickens the air, but Amenadiel never mentions it. Though I know he can smell it.

“Amenadiel,” I whisper, arms crossed over my chest. Unsure why I feel so nervous, I wet my lips and chance a look at him, where he stands near the door to his office. “Thank you…”

When he stays silent, watching me with those dark eyes that are so like Dmitriy’s and Daemon’s but also not, I rush out, “For not turning me away.”

A muscle works in his jaw. He wants to say more. Instead, with a small nod of his head, he enters his office.

I stare at the empty spot outside the door for a long moment, my heart thudding heavily inside my chest. He’s okay. The unease inside me that’s lingered since I woke up in Daemon’s cellar has beads of sweat forming on the back of my neck. I can’t shake the strange feeling.

After making my way upstairs to the bedroom, I move through a shower and let my hair dry in front of the lit fireplace in the bedroom. The flames flicker tall, warming my cheeks as I sit naked with my arms banded around my legs and my chin propped on my knees. Why is it that I feel so safe here? That a small part of me missed Amenadiel? Why do I feel so torn? And why do I feel like something bad is about to happen to the people I love?

My eyes blur the longer I stare at the flames. Has Daemon noticed that I’m gone yet? Does he know I’m here? Does he suspect it?

With a soft sigh, I rise to my feet and decide it’s time to talk to Amenadiel about my powers. He’ll know what to do.

I get dressed in a black dress with lace detailing at the chest and a pair of heels that are too tall for my liking.

I’m wobbling down the steps when my gaze lands on his open office door. My heart does a weird flip, and I grip the railing. Why am I nervous? Why do I feel this weird mixture of emotions inside me?

When I knock softly on the doorframe, Amenadiel looks up from the paperwork in front of him. He’s hung his suit jacket on the back of the chair and rolled up his sleeves to reveal his corded forearms. His eyes slide up my legs, stomach, and chest. When they finally reach my face, I’m holding my breath.

“What brought you here, angel?” he asks, relaxing back into his chair, a pen between his fingers.

As I step deeper into his room, it dawns on me that I feel as though I’m entering the lion’s den. Each click of my heels on the floor hits me like gunshots. “Where were you?”

His brow creases, and he tosses the pen onto the table. “You’ll need to be more specific.”

The dying embers in the fireplace draw my attention for a brief moment. Two logs of firewood remain in the basket next to it. I focus my attention back on Amenadiel. “I had another dream.”

With his chin resting on his palm, he watches me.

He looks imposing in the moonlight that pours in through the window to his left. Half of his face is in shadow, and his eyes seem to glow in the darkness.

“I was searching for you.”

He says nothing, so I add, “You’re always there. Why not this time?”

“Don’t you think I have better things to do than to hang out in little girls’ dreams at night?”

“You tell me,” I respond, stopping at the side of his mahogany desk. Nails clicking on the surface, I watch him intently. “You’ve visited mine often enough.”

His brown eyes look up at me from beneath his dark lashes almost lazily. I can’t decipher if I intrigue him or if he’s bored with me. Something excites me about the way he seems to hunt me with the small smirk that slides across his lips. His gaze slowly cruises down my body, and I bite down on my tongue to calm the violent spark of pleasure that shoots to my core. My clit pulses in his presence.

“Where were you?” My breathy voice gives me away, which should mortify me. But when he flicks those dark eyes back up to mine, I revel in the tension that thickens the air like an electric current.

“Why are you really here?”

My heart stalls in my chest as he slides his desk chair out and rises to his feet. He’s so tall, towering over me. Ancient and powerful.

“My light is coming back,” I say, retreating a step when he takes one forward, like a silent dance between lovers.

“It is, huh?” His voice is a seductive drawl that caresses my skin like an invisible touch. It slithers beneath the fabric of my dress to tease my hardening nipples.

One step further back, then another. Amenadiel follows me step by step, heartbeat by heartbeat.

“Yes…”

“Interesting.” In a flurry of movement, he’s in front of me, and I’m trapped against the desk by his muscular arms. His wings are out, showcasing his raw masculinity and power. When his fangs elongate, a gasp leaves my mouth. He flicks his eyes to my lips and whispers, “Tell me, angel, why were you searching for me across the veil?”

I can’t speak. Not when he looks at me like he wants to devour me whole.

Before I can open my mouth to speak, his lips are on mine, and his hand is on my throat.

Gripping me tightly, he feasts on my soul. His tongue tangles with mine, and the sharp scrape of his teeth drives me wild. I claw at his shirt, his hair, his neck.

Moaning into his mouth, I grab his hip and pull him closer to me, the leather belt cool beneath my touch. We’re a clash of limbs and snarls. His hard cock grinds against my exposed pussy through the fabric of his charcoal suit pants. The friction has another moan slipping from my lips.

He shoves me back with his hand on my throat, and my spine meets the paperwork on his desk. With his eyes on mine, he unbuckles his belt one-handed and pulls down the front of his pants.

“You shouldn’t have come here, angel.”

Arching off the desk, I let him see the need in me. The need for him to fill me up with his dick and fuck me hard. To finally do all the demented, depraved things I’ve craved since the first time he visited me in my dreams.

A gasp leaves me when he yanks down my dress to expose my heaving tits. The straps snap, and the sudden sting heightens my arousal. Kneading my left breast, he leans over me and takes the nipple into his hot mouth. His tongue swirls over the throbbing peak, and I let out a breathy moan.

“Amenadiel, please…”

“Please, what?” He looks up at me through dark eyes that burn with dangerous desire and pent-up lust. “I want to hear you say it. I’ve waited long enough.”

Clit pulsing with need, I wet my dry lips and plead, “Please fuck me, Amenadiel.”

“I can’t hear you, little angel.”

“Fuck me.” My voice comes out choked, my tits heaving with every labored breath. “Please, fuck me.”

The lust-filled gaze in his dark eyes takes on a dangerous edge. “I thought you’d never ask.” Straightening up, he drags his big hand down my body, between my tits, all the way to the apex of my thighs. Then, as he holds my gaze, he grips my trembling hips and takes me in one hard thrust.

My back shoots off the desk, and I curl my fingers around the edge. “Fuck!”

His hand is back on my throat, bruising my pulse point, as his hips piston against me. Slapping skin and strangled sounds of pleasure fill his office. He fucks me hard and dirty. The way I always imagined Amenadiel fucked. Despite the dewdrop of kindness inside him, he’s a monster at the very core.

A core that’s now torn open and bleeding all over my exposed soul.

My gushing cunt makes a mess of the front of his suit pants. I’m so aroused and lost to every stroke of his big cock against my pulsing inner walls that the wet, lewd sounds my pussy makes barely register. I couldn’t care less.

Not when he fucks me like he’s on a mission to ruin me for other men. As though he has something to prove.

“Amenadiel,” I moan, and he chokes out a strangled, “Fuck.”

Rubbing my swollen clit with his thumb, he never takes his eyes off me, watching the emotions flicker across my face. I stare at him the entire time with my heart in my throat, where it whispers how right this moment feels.

And how wrong.

Framed by his massive wings that are as mysterious and dark as the night, he takes my breath away.

Leaning over me, his lips find mine in a hard kiss. “Those boys can never make you feel like this,” he snarls between kisses. “They can never fuck you this good. Not like an angel as ancient as me.” He bites my lip, drawing it away from my teeth. Then he lets go and dives in for another kiss, as soul-destroying as his tight grip on my throat. “There’s a good girl. I can feel you strangling my dick.”

He fucks me harder, causing the desk to scrape on the floor. His whiskey glass topples over the side, the crash obnoxiously loud amongst our labored breaths and moans. I don’t ever want him to stop fucking me.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whispers before pulling out and flipping me over. With his big hand fisted in my hair, he pulls my head back. At the same time, he rams his cock inside me and proceeds to bruise my hipbones against the desk’s edge.

Teetering on my tall heels, my cunt pulses rhythmically around his veiny dick. I’m coming apart, arousal dripping down my thighs.

His wet lips, parted with a wolfish smile, find my ear. “Come on my cock, angel. Scream my fucking name.”

He doesn’t need to ask twice. The filthy command in his gravelly voice settles in my clit, delicious and forbidden. I come with a loud gasp, clamping down on his dick.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he growls, taking me harder. Every damning thrust of his hips against my ass is as ruthless as the fierce grip he has on my hair. Just when I think I’ll never survive his brutal claiming, he pulls out. His hot cum rains over my ass in quick squirts, each one branding me like a blazing iron.

Running his fingers through his cum on my lower back, he trails them between my ass cheeks and applies pressure to my ring of muscles. I stiffen, but he tightens his grip on my hair and proceeds to fuck his cum inside my ass. The sharp sting has me panting through my teeth. Like his nephew, there’s nothing gentle about Amenadiel’s touch. As soon as I gave him consent, he took what he wanted.

“So fucking perfect,” he says, circling the remaining cum over my puckered hole.

I moan at the intense sensation, arching my back and pushing my ass against his fingers. Fuck, I need him to take me there.

With a final slap to my ass, he steps back, pulls me up, and tangles his fingers in my matted hair. His lips descend on my neck, kissing and biting until I’m putty in his arms. Only then does he kiss my lips. It’s different this time. The hard sweeps of his tongue against mine have my heart singing to his tune. “Good girl,” he praises between kisses, gripping me tighter and nipping at my lips. “Melt for me.”

And I do.

I fall apart completely when he sinks to his knees and covers my soaked, sore pussy with his hungry mouth.

Anchored to the intense look in his eyes, I come apart on his tongue, moaning his name the entire time like a prayer on a warm sea breeze.