BOOK 2 of the Running With Devils Series
It's been three weeks since Coralynn Bennet was dragged down to Hell and it was nothing like how she imagined it. It was a kingdom of skyscrapers but no sky. Demons ran amok, but limited their bloodthirsty te...
AN: cause I'm an international... SUPERSPYYYYY (superspyyy)
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The Witch
I don't know what the Reaper saw as he watched me from above, but there was burning lust in his eyes. And he fucked me like a man with nothing to lose and everything to gain.
I just needed more. I needed everything.
I trailed my lips along his jaw again— moving down towards his neck, feeling the veins in his neck pulse with each beat of the heart inside his chest. I ran my tongue over those veins, tasting his skin.
The Reaper shuddered, almost exposing his neck further for me.
"You must be starving," he swallowed shakily. "Take what you want."
I moaned in delight from his approval of my desire, sinking my teeth deep into his warm flesh. He paused his movements, letting out a soft noise of submission as I took him on my tastebuds.
He tasted like ambition and heartbreak. Notes of cinnamon swirled amongst a sea of cold peppermint. I moved my hand towards his jaw, pressing his neck tighter to my lips as I devoured more of him.
"Coralynn," he breathed softly, it was almost like a prayer. The way he said my name so deliberately in the haze of our entanglement gave me goosebumps.
I moaned again, continuing to taste him. My tongue lapped every drop of his essence that spilled from the wounds I had given him. If he was in pain he didn't show it. He simply let me take what I wanted.
But I felt guilty. This was much too one sided.
In an attempt to not be selfish, I rolled my hips upwards. It was a movement of gratitude that he seemed to appreciate. He took a sharp breath in response.
"Even the pain you inflict feels like a paradise I should have been denied," he swallowed, matching my slow smooth strokes.
The friction was unbearable. I finally released his neck, gasping hard. He only lifted his head tiredly and gazed down at me.
This time there was no denying it. His eyes were clearly amber now, burning low as if nearly drained.
My heart nearly fractured again at the familiarity of those eyes. And that smile. Those lips. That slight crease to the left of them.
"Mal," I whispered, the sound raw and broken.
For a second, I thought he was going to give in and just say it. He had to be him. There was no other explanation. He talked like him. He moved like him.
He dropped his head again, laughing softly. And when he lifted it again, there was never even a hint of Malachi being there at all. I must've only imagined it.
