He took it as a cue.
He moved down my body. Under the covers, all I saw was the massive hill made by his wings and another small hill made by his head between my legs. As if made of goo, my legs fell open, parting, and Michael pushed my knees back together so he could slide my underwear off. He picked up my ankles and held them in one hand, then pushed my legs up so my knees rested on my breasts. A warm, wet tongue slipped inside my pussy. It wiggled, then swiped the length of my channel. Then again, he swiped his tongue over the length of my slit. Over and over again, he feasted like this, and my pussy pulsed and pulsed, making that clear liquid for him to eat. He stroked my clit with his fingers, slowly, painfully, and I was pretty sure my little bud swelled to bursting. I lifted my hips, seeking more, thrusting with his strokes, aching, matching his speed, until I was a mindless puddle of lust, wildly grabbing fistfuls of his hair, not caring that one finger probed my back hole and entered. I screamed, my belly contracting as an orgasm took me. I rode his face, and he let me, even grabbed my ass and pressed me against his mouth.
Tremors shook my body.
My muscles gave up. I lay there completely uncaring if the skies dropped.
Michael’s head poked out from under the covers. I could barely keep my eyelids open. His eyes shone bright, two suns not letting me look, but I watched anyway. Tears brimmed and spilled at the edges of my eyes. Michael covered me with his body and licked my tears. He fisted my hair, pulled, and, his mouth at mine, said, “Julia, would you take my seed?” He entered me.
I gasped.
He swallowed my cry. And I took the angel’s seed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I seeded her, and I’d have seeded her more if she could bear it. But a mortal body needed rest more often than mine. Although angels slept, it wasn’t like mortal sleep. We entered a state we called recovery, where our bodies shut down for a while and healed. We chose to do this at night only because mortals slept during that time. We adjusted to their schedule. Night and day existed only in this realm. The Heavens were places of eternal peace and war. We didn’t measure our time according to the planets or stars, and certainly not the damned Morning Star, whose presence I scented on Julia’s skin. She had kept secrets from me. Even now, she kept secrets.
And I had lied. Evil never rested, and neither could I. Not on a Sunday or any other day. I would not rest until I exiled Lucifer from her, Julia’s belly swelled with my child, and, more importantly, she accepted her life by my side for as long as she lived.
It was well past noon. I stood at the window, observing the fleet’s routine in the skies. Mortals did get Sundays off. Angels needed no rest, and even if they did, they’d get none until I secured Lucifer. Small hands wrapped around my waist. I stared down at them. Dirt stuck under Julia’s fingernails, and callused palms from the weapon she trained with traced over my abdomen. I smiled. Atta girl. These hands better not be afraid of dirt, calluses, hard work, or whatever it took to become my mortal. I stroked them, fond of how small they were compared to my hands, and fond of thinking how they could wield the weapon between my legs that grew bigger the longer I thought about her under me, wiggling, enjoying whatever it was I wanted to do.
Julia groaned.
I pursed my lips. “Are you in pain?”
“Just a headache.”
“I must be a terrible lover, then.”
“Um…no.” She giggled.
I tapped her hand, brought it to my lips, kissed the palm, licked for a taste. “I can smell him, even taste him. You must tell me everything,” I ordered.
“Yes, Commander,” she said. “I’ve been fending him off most of the morning.”
I took her wrist and pulled so she stood in front of me, all five foot three of her. Light brown hair draped over her breasts and framed her pretty face. Wide brown eyes stared up at me the way mortals’ often did. With awe and fear. I moved the hair away from her breasts and behind her shoulders. “How?”
Julia blinked. “Hm?”
I smiled. “How were you fending him off?” I ran a palm over her left breast and rolled the nipple. “Please don’t make me repeat myself.”
“You’re distracting me.”
“I am interested in your fending off. It is very important you don’t hide that from me.” I lifted her and pressed her against the window. Small hands wrapped around my neck, and I held her up with one hand; the other, I ran up her arm, feeling goose bumps over soft skin.
“What is important?” she asked.
Poor mortal. I admit I could’ve found a better time and a better way to ask her about my brother, but I wanted to both enjoy her and get the briefing on her unique situation. So that was what I would do. “Mortals cannot fend off Lucifer.
