Rolling her hips, she clenched her internal muscles and took him so deep he swore he felt the beat of her heart at the tip of his cock. His sac pulled taut with impending release as it met the hot flesh between her legs with every erotic move she made.
Given the intensity of her torture, he lasted longer than he thought he would, but he couldn’t have predicted that when his climax came, he’d hit another damned plane of existence.
As his balls throbbed, his entire body seized up, racked with pleasure so intense he could only roar in exquisite agony. Distantly he heard Blaspheme’s soft cries, felt her clamp down around him in rippling waves. Another orgasm rear-ended the first one, and he was launched into the stratosphere again as his body blew apart.
Holy… damn.
When the world came into focus again, he couldn’t move. He felt disembodied, could only lie there, dizzy, boneless, Blas’s warm weight something he would gladly bear all night.
She lay on top of him, breathing heavily, her sweaty skin plastered to his. He wondered if his half of the deal they’d struck was over yet, so he could finally run his hands through her silky hair that fanned over his shoulders. But then he decided he couldn’t lift his arms anyway, so the no-touching thing was irrelevant.
“I can’t move,” Blaspheme muttered, her breath whispering across his throat.
Move? Revenant couldn’t even speak. He managed a grunt he hoped sounded like agreement, and he felt her lips curve into a smile against his skin. That one tiny intimacy, a secret, satisfied smile while they were still connected, wrapped around him like a warm embrace.
The sensation was as intense as it was unfamiliar. He loved females and he loved sex, and he’d had a lot of both. But this was the first time he’d felt like this, as if he couldn’t get enough. Not of just sex, but of a female. Of Blaspheme.
He could lie like this forever. Maybe the Earth would stop spinning, the realms would stop fighting, and everyone would leave him and Blaspheme the hell alone. Revenant had never been one to dream… any dreams he might have had were destroyed on that Megiddo hilltop all those years ago, when Reaver had made it clear that brothers or not, they weren’t family, and Rev didn’t belong in Heaven.
But here he was, dreaming. Which was insane, considering his life was in the worst possible place it could be right now, with both Heaven and hell screwing with him. Neither side was known for being especially forgiving when it came to battles between good and evil, which meant that no matter what he did, someone was going to rain a whole lot of hell down on his head. Literally, if Satan was the one he pissed off.
So yeah, lying in bed and dreaming of a future where he was in any way happy was stupid.
But as Blaspheme let out a contented sigh, he realized he was happy at this very moment. He was going to embrace it. Savor it.
Because something told him it wasn’t going to last.
Sixteen
Revenant woke to the tap of Blaspheme’s fingers on his sternum. He’d fallen asleep? Seriously? He never crashed after sex.
Opening his eyes, he glanced at the clock on the wall, and yep, he’d lost a couple of hours. He canted his head to the side, smiling when he saw Blaspheme facing him, her body stretched against his as he lay on his back, her hand running up and down his chest.
“Hi.” She returned his smile with a shy one of her own.
“Hi.” His voice was shot to hell, but in a good postcoital way.
“So,” she said, not wasting any time, “how is it that you and Reaver are brothers? And why didn’t Reaver ever mention it before?”
Groaning, Rev threw his forearm over his eyes. “You got something against coffee before conversation?”
“Nope. But while you were sleeping I rummaged through your kitchen, and I couldn’t find any.” She jabbed him in the ribs. “So? Spill.”
Figuring he couldn’t avoid getting back to real life, Revenant tucked his arm behind his head and stared at the ceiling. “Reaver didn’t mention having a brother because he didn’t know until a couple of weeks ago. Neither did I.”
“How can that be?”
“Our memories were erased. Twice.”
Sitting up, she snared a blanket from the foot of the bed and covered herself. Too bad. He could look at her creamy breasts all day. “I’m lost.”
He was lost, too. “Yeah, well, I’m still trying to work out thousands of years of memories myself.” Reaching over, he fingered a tendril of her silky hair while he considered how much to tell her. He didn’t trust anyone, but False Angels, with their lying, seductive ways, were even less trustworthy. And Blaspheme, while she wasn’t like any False Angel he’d ever met, was undoubtedly hiding something from him. He might have been drunk when he saw some sort of crumpling aura around her last night at her apartment, but he was perfectly sober now, and he still sensed that there was something not right with her.