Disciplining the Beast: Taming the Beast, Book 5 (6 page)

Rafael clearly knew what a woman desired, even if she claimed souls.

Each teasing stroke registered within her entire being, releasing something deep inside. Perhaps it was hope, she didn’t know, but joy finally broke through, flooding her with sweet anticipation. She wiggled into him, eager for their intimacy even if it was only physical. Maybe it would prove enough.

He stopped licking and suckled instead, slipping his finger into her channel. She squeezed those muscles. After easing a second finger inside, he slid them in and out. She moaned loudly and lost track of everything except this. Her world reduced to his presence, scent, touch.

He delivered pleasure at a leisurely pace, building her carnal need in small steps until they’d reached an unsustainable level. Heat congested her pussy, tension followed, coiling, mounting, driving her over the edge. She wailed louder than the banshees had tonight, an epic climax pummeling her, a pulse beating deep inside her channel.

Babbling incoherently, she sprawled over the mattress.

He lifted his face. “You okay?”

She sucked in another breath and blew it out. “Never been better.”

“Seriously?”

“You’re the man.”

“Not yet, but I will be.”

He scooted into position, grabbed his cock and thrust deep, filling her to the brim and then some.

Her mouth sagged open. His did too.

God, he was adorable. “Come here.” She cupped his face and brought his mouth down to hers, tasting herself on his lips. Strange yet nice, though not as nice as his flavor, which was the best ever. Afraid she’d never get enough, she speared her tongue inside.

He grunted but let her run this part of the show. As for the rest… He pumped, a slow slide in and out of her as he’d done with his fingers. His rod was immeasurably better. Thick and hard, stretching her mercilessly with her full consent.

She pitied the self-righteous who considered sex dirty or shameful. Why bother to be alive at all if you couldn’t indulge in this? With the right man, of course.

She kissed him harder, deeper, reckless with desire, weak with need.

He thrust, his strength barely restrained. Their bodies smacked, his wings bounced, creating a cooling breeze. She smiled. So did he, their mouths still joined.

At last, he broke free and gulped air, his face and throat sweaty. Hers were too.

On a thunderous growl, he rubbed her still-sensitive clit. She yowled and bucked, taking his cock even deeper. He shuddered but didn’t stop, pumping faster, harder, forcing her back to the precipice.

No. She didn’t want to come again yet. Maybe in a day or two, possibly a week. They could play hooky and call in sick. If they got in real deep shit, they could share a dungeon in Hell. Please.

He thumbed her nub without pause, relentless in what he wanted to do.

She resisted, pushing her feelings aside, becoming stone again. No way would she come until she was damn good and ready.

He leaned down and licked her nipple.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. She shattered, howled and soared, her sheath pulsing around his shaft, sucking him even deeper this time, every rigid inch.

He hadn’t gone soft. Either good angels never did or he hadn’t come.

Still panting, she parted her lids.

His hair pointed in all directions, his face a grimace, complexion close to purple.

“Good God, what are you waiting for?” She slapped his arm. “Come before you explode.”

He gritted his teeth. “In a sec.” He eased out and plunged back inside.

Bad move. Wynona’s silky heat was more than Rafael could take. So much moisture drenched her channel his head nearly blew off. Her boobs were spectacular, nipples dusky, skin pale and flawless. He’d expected white curls between her legs to match her hair. She didn’t have any down there, her cleft naked, vulnerable, folds puffy and pink.

Argh. He wasn’t going to make it. His legs trembled, his arms were about to give out, and he’d already sweated off five pounds or more.

Ursula had never done this to him.

With Wynona, he couldn’t catch his breath, the room kept swirling, his peripheral vision was gone.

“Come!”

He rubbed her clit to keep her from nagging him.

She screeched. “No. I can’t take this again, dammit. I’m still sensitive from the last two times.”

And he wasn’t? Even his wings were super receptive to any touch, while his cock… One more thrust and he’d be a goner, deflating faster than a saint’s hope for world peace. No way could he give in so quickly. Wynona deserved the best ride ever, and he damn well intended to give it to her.

He grabbed her calves and hauled her feet over his shoulders.

She choked on a cry, coughed, and stared. “Wow. You’re better than the man.”

“Not yet.” But he would be.

He pumped jackhammer quick. The headboard banged repeatedly into the wall, creating a hellacious racket.

She gripped his forearms. “Don’t worry about the neighbors.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Good man. Please, don’t stop.”

Never. Not with her.

He brushed her clit lightly. She lifted her chin and wailed. He shifted to get even deeper and plowed into her with a fanatic’s fervor…or a man who’d finally found what had been missing from his existence. Someone precious and required.

She seemed so young now, downright defenseless, even though he knew better. She could take down a whole city at once, claiming everyone’s souls. Thank God, she hadn’t. Even Satan would have buried her deep and thrown away the key for having caused so much havoc.

Rafael would never have known these moments. Without them, how could he exist?

He thrust again, liking how her boobs wiggled. He gave her nub a few seconds rest and then got back to business, rubbing her quickly. She gasped, squirmed, and tried to pull away from his hand. Impossible. They were together now. He was in too deep and didn’t intend to change that.

She whimpered. He smiled.

Growling, she squeezed her cunt rapid fire around his rod.

He roared in surprise and stupefying lust but held off. Barely.

She fought her climax the same as he did, both trying to make the other come. A contest he hoped would end in a tie, with each winning. If not, he might be the first angel in history to die. His shoulders burned, arms throbbed, knees wanted to give out. If his balls and cock could have wept and begged for relief, they would have.

His sac tapping against her ass deepened his frustration. Every time she squeezed his shaft, he wanted to wail. He didn’t have enough air to do so. Keeping conscious was a monumental effort.

She tugged her own hair and swore.

Coming from her, the expletives sounded vaguely sexy. He got even harder.

She stilled and then yelled, climaxing at last.

Not a second too soon. Using a final burst of energy, he pumped savagely, sensing she’d like that.

She beat her fists against the mattress. “Yes, yes,
yes.
”

He smiled at her happiness, gasped at his own climax, and bellowed louder than Stefin ever had, all control and respectability gone. Euphoria he’d never experienced barreled through Rafael, taking him to a place he hadn’t known existed. Sinfully good, decidedly right, totally perfect for them.

Woozy, he lowered her feet to the bed, sank down, and propped himself on his elbows to keep from crushing her.

Wynona’s face had more color than he’d ever seen. Her hair was tangled and damp, lips bruised from their kisses. Her lids were at half-mast, but her eyes sparkled.

He pecked her mouth and hauled in another breath. “Am I still the man?”

“Better. A freaking god.”

Hardly. He’d never performed as well with another woman as he had with her. She deserved the credit. “Thanks. Sleepy?”

“Hmm.” She’d already closed her eyes.

“Wynona?”

She breathed evenly, her head sagging to the side.

Damn. He wasn’t ready to be alone, was eager to talk, laugh, share, love, but he didn’t want to disturb her.

With his shaft still inside her sheath, he folded his wings over them, providing more privacy and warmth, and then settled down to nap.

Chapter Six

Wynona had faked sleep, not knowing what to say after the best lovemaking ever. What she and Rafael had shared wasn’t mindless sex. Their smiles and teasing, the way he’d folded his wings to protect them, had turned the moments surprisingly intimate.

When other supernaturals had finished screwing her, they’d taken off for their next conquest or had passed out, not caring what she thought or felt.

She was used to that. This… Her emotions were too raw and unruly now, not knowing where to go. Laughter, tears, fear raged at the same time.

Rafael was too good for her. A hard notion to admit, but them hooking up would ruin him. If SACS found out about tonight, he couldn’t lie like she could to wiggle out of a bad situation. He’d confess, apologize, and would most likely beg for punishment because he was a decent guy. Surely, they’d clip his wings. She didn’t want to consider what else they’d do to make him an example.

No way could that happen. She had to convince him a relationship between them was suicidal.

Round and round she went, searching for a solution until popping sounds awakened her. She rolled over. Rafael’s weight no longer confined, her sheath empty once more, abandoned.

She should have been relieved but couldn’t lie that well to herself. Afraid to open her eyes and learn he’d left, she patted the sheets on his side. Empty and cool.

Another pop rang out.

She struggled to her elbows, inhaled deeply at the effort, and stilled at the bacon scent. And cinnamon rolls? She sniffed again. Yeah.

She shoved back her hair and pushed up. Rafael tended to two skillets on the stove, brandishing her spatula like a Food Network expert. Fried onion and potato scents wafted toward her.

His musk smelled better. He hadn’t dressed, his glutes rock hard, flexing with each move, his broad back potently male. Two creases ran down either side of his spine, nearly invisible, the only indication he had wings inside.

She ached to see, touch, and explore them.

No, no, no. They had no future. She had no right. Why had he come back? Clearly, he’d left to get food, since she didn’t have anything in the fridge except microwaveable crap. No fuss, no muss, no taste.

A fresh set of his clothes hung from her garment rack, this place too small for a closet. His pants were navy, shirt pearl gray. He’d even brought another pair of boxer briefs and socks.

His feet were deliciously large with long toes.

Wynona figured she’d need years to explore him with her mouth, tongue, and hands. There was simply too much good stuff to enjoy. She wished he hadn’t combed and tied back his hair. Loose was better, tousled was staggering.

He opened the oven door and bent at the waist, peering inside. His cock swung back and forth, an erotic pendulum. Finished, he straightened, turned to her, and smiled. Pleasure filled his eyes. They crinkled at the corners with his widening grin.

She left the bed and turned off the burners and oven.

He sobered quickly. “What’s wrong? You’re not hungry?”

Starved was more like it. She wanted to laugh at her absurd feelings. Better that than cry. She sank to her knees, gripping his narrow hips. “Ravenous.”

Some might say insatiable when it came to him.

Unable to wait a second longer, she buried her face in his dark curls. He pushed to his toes, wavered, and sank back down. She greeted him with ardent attention, filling herself with his musk, running her tongue down his thickening length. The velvety head was surprisingly salty, the prominent veins on his shaft masculine to the extreme. Both called to everything female within her, the same as his boys. Fleshy, pendulous, lightly furred.

On a shameless moan, she eased his right ball into her mouth.

Sounds rushed from him, a grunt and growl, incoherent words that were possibly angel-speak and finally a surprisingly crude oath.

She suppressed a smile and licked his nut good, loving its wrinkly texture rough with hair. Exactly the way a man should be. She tasted his other ball, as delicious as the first.

Something clanged on the stove, probably the spatula. He cupped her head, keeping her to him.

She never wanted to be anywhere else. If only wishes could come true.

His rod tempted now, fully erect, pre-come seeping from the slit, leaving a damp trail over her collarbone. It’d be an effort for her to take him fully inside her mouth, but it would also be a labor of love. Half measures wouldn’t do.

She cupped his tongue-dampened balls and eased his silky crown past her lips.

He cried out.

She sighed softly and opened her throat to guide him as deeply as he could go. He stopped wiggling and held his breath. Just as well. He’d lose it shortly.

With skill and tenderness, she guided him in farther and fondled his nuts.

He said something she didn’t catch, digging his fingers into her scalp, anchoring him to her. Exactly where she wanted him to be.

For now. Later was another matter.

Pushing her misgivings aside, she concentrated on pleasure. At last, her nose touched his fragrant curls.

He huffed.

She worked him in and out of her mouth, mirroring what her channel would do, with the added oomph of her tongue stroking, lips suckling. A raw, passionate act. A moment of exquisite affection. She’d never wanted anyone more.

He didn’t last as he had last night, reaching climax within a few minutes, filling the room with a wild shout.

She grasped his ass and held on with more desperation than she should have, accepting his come greedily, the flavor as unique as the rest of him. Fresher than morning dew, richer than mousse, more satisfying than a cold drink on a steamy day.

Good God, she had to get a grip.

She let him slip from her mouth.

His firm belly quivered with his harsh breaths. He stroked her cheek. “Thanks.”

She wrapped her arms around his thighs.

“Want to eat? I’m cooking all your faves.”

Of course he was. Everything about her was in her SACS file, right down to her culinary preferences. Reapers didn’t need to eat, or sleep for that matter, but they could indulge if they wanted. A perk in an otherwise shitty job description. She’d always opted for these few mortal pastimes, and he knew it. Her existence was an open book, making her even more powerless against his charm. She wanted to bitch at him but couldn’t. She was moved by his kind gesture. No one had ever made her breakfast, much less stuff she liked to eat. What did he enjoy? “I don’t know anything about you.”

Wasn’t fair.

“Don’t worry. I’m a pretty fair cook.”

She laughed. “Not what I meant. Where’d the food come from?”

“I woke early and went to my place for clothes. Since you didn’t have a lot here, I brought my stuff.”

“Good angels eat?”

“They don’t have to, but I like to. Probably a residual pleasure from my time on earth.”

She released him and stood. “You were mortal?”

“Long, long time ago.”

“This isn’t cosmetic then?” She ran her forefinger around his navel.

He eased into her touch. “Nope. The real deal.” He touched hers. “Yours?”

“An illusion.” Like their relationship. She swept her hand over her tummy. Her belly button disappeared, leaving smooth skin. “A few of my kind were born, like you. I was created.” If that didn’t prove the sorry truth about their incompatibility, nothing else would.

He caught her wrist before she got too far away. After reeling her back, he turned on the burners and oven. “Tell me while I finish this.”

“What’s to tell? Everything about me is in my file.”

“Not your earliest memories or what you failed to disclose in the personality tests.” He wagged his finger. “Don’t tell me you didn’t fudge on those.”

She shrugged. “You know me too well.”

“I want to know you better. The real you. Tell me, please.”

No. This was nuts. “Let me help.” She checked the cinnamon rolls and flipped the potatoes.

He didn’t press, but he didn’t pretend he’d forgotten either, watching as she played Suzy Homemaker and cooked up a storm. She finally cracked from his silence and patience. “Tell me about you first, and I’ll share what I can.”

“Deal. While we eat.” After filling their plates, he brought them to the table.

“You take the chair.” She pushed it to him. “I can sit on the bed.”

“Like hell.”

“Oh, yeah? Better watch it. You just said a four-letter word. And I refuse to take the chair.”

“Too bad.” He dropped in the seat, pulled her onto his lap, and snuggled his arm around her waist. “What do you know, we both fit. It’s a miracle.” He suckled her neck.

She giggled at the tickling. “Like I said, you’re a god.”

“Wrong, I’m the man.” He eased back. “At least a former one. Eat.” He drew a bacon strip over her lips.

She gobbled it eagerly and then sucked his fingers. “Fuck, that’s good.”

“More where that came from.”

“I know. Let me lick the rest you have, your palms too, then your cock again.”

“I was talking about food.” He grabbed a cinnamon roll and fed her.

She allowed it. Stupid, of course, but she didn’t want to stop. “When were you mortal?”

He finished his bacon, a forkful of eggs, and grabbed his juice. “Roman times.”

“No shit. You were a Spartan like those guys in that flick
300
?”

He laughed, spitting up his OJ. “Sorry.” He lapped drops from her nipples.

Her head fell back at his tongue’s warm, wet sweep.

He kissed her throat. “Although I was born in Greece, I ended up as a Roman slave.”

“Oh, no.” She cupped his face. “Those pricks beat and starved you?”

“Uh-uh, at least not the beating part. Food was definitely a problem. When my master got in a snit, he put me on starvation rations, but beggars can’t be choosers. I was a teacher by trade. I taught his kids math and stuff. It wasn’t a bad gig, except for my mistress.”

“They allowed you to have a girlfriend? Somebody’s wife? Wait, you were married? Quit laughing at me.”

His shoulders shook. He flapped his hand in front of his face and finally calmed down. “By mistress, I meant lady of the house. When I finished teaching her boys for the day, I had to, uh, see to her needs.”

“You actually slept with her?”

“Hey, not my choice. I didn’t have much say in the matter. Are you jealous?”

Fucking A.
“How’d you get anointed for sainthood and earn your wings with that past?”

“I’m no saint, I’m an angel.”

“Same diff.”

“Not hardly.” He finished two cinnamon rolls before he turned back to her. “As to how I got my wings…the kids were horsing around one afternoon at the Tiber. They both knew how to swim, but there’d been heavy flooding and the river roared through the city. Boys being boys, they decided to try their luck. I swam like a maniac to save the first one. Got him on shore and dove in for the second. He kept slipping away, but I wouldn’t give up. He was just a kid with so much to live for. Probably would have owned me after dear old dad kicked the bucket. I finally got him, the second boy, on shore too.” He shrugged. “By then I was exhausted. I tried to fight the current but couldn’t. They found my body downstream a week later.”

Her mouth trembled. “You died?”

“Well, yeah. I would have eventually anyway. That was a long time ago. Hey, there’s no reason to cry.”

She couldn’t stop.

“Least I got my wings for what I considered a pretty sloppy rescue.”

She slipped off his lap. “Stand up.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

“Okay, okay. Stop bouncing.” He pushed to his feet. “We gonna hug?”

She slapped his hands from her and circled him.

He turned. “What are you looking for?”

Hickeys, scratches, love bites or other evidence of their time together. She couldn’t recall if she’d marked him during their lust-crazed session last night. “Quit following me. Stand still.”

“Take it easy.”

She couldn’t. Too much was at stake. “What’s your plan when your boss or SACS asks where you were last night?”

“No one will.”

“You’re sure of that. Let’s pretend you’re wrong. Since you can’t lie, what exactly did you intend to tell them if they ask?”

“They won’t. They trust me.”

“They shouldn’t.”

His shoulders sagged. “You don’t mean that. You can’t. Please stop crying.”

“I’m not.”

He wiped a tear from her cheek and licked it off his finger.

She sagged into him. “I don’t want you to get caught. You’ll ruin your career, your future, and for what, this?” She gestured to her crappy place.

“No. This.” He brushed his mouth over hers.

A sob bubbled up. She shoved it back down. “Show me your wings.”

He ground his cock against her cleft. “They really turn you on, huh?”

“No. Yes. Dammit, stop it.” She broke away and clenched her fists. “I need to see if I broke them last night.”

“Are you kidding? Granted, you’re a tigress in bed, but you’re not that wild. Besides, if you had hurt them, I would have screeched like a little girl.”

She clenched her teeth. “Show. Me.”

He threw up his hands, turned his back to her, and let loose.

The unfurling was strikingly sexy, his right wing grazing the table. A fork fell off and clattered on the floor. He looked over.

Wynona gasped. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my freaking
God.”

“What?”

He struggled to look behind himself, turning so quickly, his wing swept potatoes off his plate and knocked a cinnamon roll onto the chair. He turned in the other direction, that wing whizzing toward the skillets.

She shrieked and grabbed his shoulders. “Don’t move.” Her head fell forward. “This can’t be happening.”

“
What?
Tell me.”

“Stay here. Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Do it. Please.”

She ran into the bath, dampened a washcloth, and prayed she hadn’t seen what she had. Maybe when he’d ascended to Heaven for his duds and the food, he’d brushed up against something without realizing it. She shot back into the room, her hopes crumbling. A thin moan poured from her.