Reaver

You’ve already done that.

Yes, he had. He suddenly remembered doing it to Verrine. He’d been all about revenge, but his plans had gone awry the moment he’d gotten her naked.

His rigid erection strained against his fly, aching like a son of a bitch. How long had it been for him? Too long. Way too long. He hadn’t been with a female since he got his wings back, was given Watcher duty, and… met Harvester. Oh, he’d had plenty of opportunities with angels who saw him as a forbidden temptation, a rebel angel with a mysterious past, but for some reason, he hadn’t taken up any of them on their offers, no matter how blatant or aggressive. And he’d always gone for the aggressive ones. Only now did he realize why.

Deep down, he’d wanted Harvester.

She slid her hand inside her panties, and he groaned as her fingers rubbed in slow circles under the material. “You sure you don’t want to fuck?”

Yes. No. Shit.

He clenched his teeth, unable to give her an answer. There was nothing he wanted more—aside from getting out of here alive—than to wrap Harvester’s long, slim legs around his waist and pound into her until they’d either killed the sexual tension screaming between them or they killed each other.

But he wanted to take it slow. Or, at least, to show her that what they were doing was about more than orgasms.

Because his feelings for her might be jumbled up in a tangle of remembered and forgotten events, but one thing was certain: He’d claimed her when he’d done the blood-bonding thing. Their relationship had been five thousand years in the making, and he wasn’t about to let it go, now or later.

They just needed to get out of Sheoul, destroy Lucifer, and get Harvester off Satan’s most wanted list first. Oh, and Reaver had to survive the archangels’ punishment.

No problem.

“Reaver, you said you’d give me what I needed,” she gritted out, when he didn’t reply quickly enough to please her. “I need to fuck. No mushy shit.”

She was still stroking herself, faster now, and his breath followed suit.

“Agreed,” he said. “But it won’t be a fuck to me.”

“Bastard.” The word was harsh, but her tone was almost weary, as if maybe she was as tired of their battles as he was. “Now strip.”

Her order made him smile. She very well might want to strip him herself, but the need for control outweighed her personal preferences. That was okay. Next time.

He fingered the top button on his fly and hesitated, loving how she was holding her breath in anticipation, her mouth open slightly, her green eyes as dark as a forest at night.

“Hurry,” she commanded him.

Very deliberately, he unbuttoned his fly slowly, revealing what was beneath in tiny increments. Pop. He exposed a tiny V of flesh. Pop. The V was bigger now, and the head of his arousal emerged, resting heavily against the denim. Pop. His shaft strained against the remaining buttons as if sensing freedom. Pop. Harvester began to pant. Pop. Freed, his arousal sprang loose, practically throbbing with the need to get inside her.

He kicked off his boots and lost the pants in rapid succession, done with the teasing. When he was standing before her, fully naked, Harvester purred.

“Now that,” she said in a husky voice that rumbled through him in an erotic tremor, “is more like it.”

They both stood, several feet apart, staring through space thick with sexual tension. Reaver’s body practically shook as he watched Harvester stroke herself, her full breasts rising and falling with her rapid breaths.

“Touch yourself,” she demanded.

He palmed his shaft, and abruptly, her scent grew stronger. She liked to watch, did she? Okay, he’d play that game. Gripping his cock firmly, he slid his fist down and back up, noting how her ivory skin flushed and her pupils dilated.

“Faster,” she whispered, and oh, yes, he could do faster.

Her arousal fed his, hot, potent, and as he pumped his fist up and down his length, a climax built like steam in a pressure cooker. He wasn’t going to last, not if she kept stroking herself, her gaze fixed on watching him.

Extracting her hand from her panties, Harvester strutted toward him, her hips swaying hypnotically. She stopped a foot away, close enough that her heat scorched him. With a teasing smile, she put her glistening fingers to his mouth.

“Taste me,” she murmured.

Lord have mercy, he thought, as he closed his lips around her fingers and sucked. Her honeyed flavor burst on his tongue, making him groan and sparking another piece of memory. He’d given her three orgasms with his tongue all those years ago, and although he’d been wracked with the need for revenge, he’d also been desperate to wring every drop of pleasure out of her that he could.

“If we weren’t in a box that could drop us in the middle of a volcano at any second, I’d have you on your knees right now, angel.” Sliding him a naughty smirk, she withdrew her hand from his mouth and kissed him, just a peck, but it was enough to make the ground shift under him. “I’d see if that talented tongue of yours could take me to Heaven again.”

“I’ll get you to Heaven one way or another,” he swore.

“Now,” she breathed. “I want to be there now.”

She covered his hand with her own and pressed her thumb to the tip of his cock. His hissed at the intensity of her touch, and when an electric friction sizzled down his shaft and into his balls, he shouted. An out-of-control buzz spread from her hand through his entire body as it brought him as close to orgasm as he could get without tipping over.

“You’re using your power.” Damn… just… damn. She kept it going, channeling a masterful sexual talent into him that left him straining and panting on the verge of climax for far too long, and yet, he silently begged her to keep going.

Releasing him, she stepped away and shoved her panties down. “I’m ready. I want you to—”

He didn’t let her finish. He’d lost his ability to follow orders five minutes ago.

With a low growl, he grabbed her hips and spun her into the wall. His cock prodded her rear as he captured her wrists with one hand and jerked her arms up over her head so she was caged between his body and the wall and at his mercy.

“Reaver,” she gasped.

Burying his face in her hair, he slid his hand between her legs and lightly caressed the plump lips of her sex. Her moan encouraged him, and he used one finger to delve into her slit. Her arousal coated his fingertip as he eased it into her core, testing her readiness and making her rock into his hand.

Now. He needed to have her now.

Shuddering in anticipation, he guided himself inside her slick channel. He filled her, but she filled him too, with her scent, her warmth, her very essence. It was as if she was the only female in the universe, wiping out everyone else he’d been with in the past. She was suddenly his everything.

He wished they had time to do this right, but aside from the fact that they were inside a box that could open up into the middle of Satan’s army, the option to go slow had been forfeited when Harvester decided to turn her hand into a fallen-angel-powered sex toy.

Lunging, he seated himself to the hilt, lifting her off the ground with the force of his thrust. They both shouted at the intensity of their joining, and then, in a mindless frenzy, he drilled into her. The slap of flesh on flesh joined her cries of pleasure, the wet, erotic sounds taking him higher and higher.

“I didn’t… order you… to do it… this, oh, yes… way.” Harvester spoke between moans and panting breaths.

He was close. So close. “Orders aren’t my strong suit,” he rasped.

The truth was that after what he’d done to her as Yenrieth, the last thing she needed was for him to see her at a time when she was the most vulnerable, those fleeting moments when pleasure took away the capacity to defend yourself or guard your emotions.