Rapture (Fallen Angels #4)(90)
Author: J.R. Ward

“I want to see you come,” he ordered.

No problem. The sound of his voice coupled with the way he penetrated her was more than enough to pitch her headlong into a massive orgasm, her palm slapping against the wet tile as the tension snapped in her core and the sensation rippled throughout her body.

Something came out of her mouth…his name, yes, that was it—and she said it twice.

The water was shut off as she was recovering, and a towel wrapped around her.

“You clean enough for your standards?” he said as he lifted her out.

She was pretty sure her reply was “yes”—it was certainly the word in her mind. God only knew what she spoke—

With a surge of demand, Matthias pressed his mouth to hers and licked his way inside as he rubbed her with the soft terry cloth. And then he was carrying her back to the bed.

As he laid her out, she thought he was going to kiss her again, and closed her eyes while lifting her chin.

He did kiss her. Just not on the mouth.

He went right to the center of her, parting her thighs wide, latching onto her sex, sucking her in. The sensation of wet on wet sent her over the edge again, her body racked with an orgasm that was only part release.

The other half was just another crap load of want.

Down at the boathouse on the river’s edge, Devina could feel the heat rolling off the angel who was facing off in front of her—and goodness, gracious sakes a-fuckin’-live, that burn wasn’t just anger.

He wanted her.

And even better than that, he hated himself for it: He utterly despised the arousal that was making a circus tent out of the front of those God-awful sweatpants he was wearing.

The combination was better than absinthe and oysters, an aphrodisiac that nearly made a demon forget that he’d double-crossed her in the last round.

Not quite, though. She could still hear him saying those words.

I lied.

And what do you know, on her side as well, fury slammed headfirst into love, the two extremes magnifying each other.

Jim’s voice came out in an incredible growl, the tone low and mean, rippling with the power in his body. “I want you to cut the shit, Devina.”

“What exactly are you referring to, Jim.” She let the purr loose in her voice, because it was there—and it would piss him off.

The fact that she was getting turned on too was going to be another slap in the balls to him.

God, who knew they’d have a date tonight of all nights? She’d have spent more time on her hair.

“I want you to leave that reporter alone.”

“Which reporter? Brian Williams? Diane Sawyer? Or someone in print, perhaps?”

Jim’s hand flashed out and grabbed a hunk of her hair, yanking it so hard she nearly came then and there.

Leaning in, he looked like he was going to bite her. “Funny, I didn’t think your methods were working for you.”

“That first win with Matthias is still mine,” she spat, her head cranked to the side.

“No soul to keep, though, huh.”

“A small price to pay to win the war.”

“That where you think you’re headed?” He closed in, bending her even harder. “’Cuz it’s not how I see things going.”

They were both straining, their faces together, their bodies curled in tight. And all around them it was quiet—not just because it was dark outside. He had a spell in place—even in his anger and his preoccupying hatred, he still had enough left over to make sure that pesky humans didn’t interrupt them.

It was positively romantic.

And on that note, she ripped herself out of his hold, leaving him with a handful of brunette strands.

Okay, that stung. Which was kind of fun.

“You want me,” she said, passing a hand over the bald spot and regrowing more of those perfect waves.

“To die. Yeah, I do.”

“Number one, I’m immortal. And number two, let me teach you a little lesson, Jim—”

“I don’t need shit from you.”

She smiled and stared pointedly at his sex—which had made a tent out of the most dreadful pair of sweatpants she’d ever seen. “I’m not sure about that. And I’d listen closely to this, if I were you—you are a new player in town. Me and the Maker? We go back further than that proverbial twinkle in your father’s eye. He created me, Jim. I am as beloved to Him as your boss, Nigel. I am the balance—without me, there is no Heaven, no goodness, no peaceable hearts-and-flowers bullshit, because when it comes to free will, contrast is required if the gifts are to be relished. I am His idea.”

The angel crossed his arms over his chest. “Then why is the game predicated on your destruction?”

“More like it’s predicated on Nigel’s.” She looked him up and down, measuring his body, that big, muscular body that she’d had in so many different ways, both willing…and not. “You know, I chose you, too—it wasn’t just your ‘boss.’ In the beginning of all this, I agreed with Nigel that you’d be the one on the field. You were part evil and part good, as equal as we could find.” Devina walked back over to him. “So if you have a problem with the way things are being handled with any ancillaries like that reporter, it’s your f**king fault.”

“Mine?”

She put her fingertip on his chest. “You were supposed to be half-and-half, good and evil—except I gotta say, you’ve disappointed me and under-represented my side. Therefore, you’ve left me no choice but to act in precisely the way I was designed to conduct business—”

When his hand shot out again, she locked a deadly grip on his wrist. “You touch my hair once more and I’m going to f**k you up…instead of f**k you good.”

“I don’t want you—you make me sick.”

Her hand zipped right down to his c**k and gave it a squeeze. “Really.”

Jim broke it off this time, slapping her away, stepping back. Abruptly his voice became level, but that was a lie. “The blondes aren’t working on me, Devina. You’re wasting your time with them.”

“Am I? Or is that just what you want me to believe.” She came forward, bringing them back together, reuniting their bodies. “I think it’s the latter.”

“It’s not getting to me, demon.” He lowered his lips back within range. “And it’s your funeral if you push the rules too far—or do you think having another go at one of the souls is the worst thing your Maker can do to you? I’m thinking it isn’t.” Jim leaned himself even closer to her, until their mouths were nearly touching. “I’m thinking He can do so much worse.”