Free Azagoth: A Demonica Novella (1001 Dark Nights) by Larissa Ione Page B

helllooo, baby on her backside.
    Another inhalation, this time a little ragged. “I...ah, I was given a choice between being demoted and stripped of my abilities or mating you.”
    Azagoth had known the answer, but hearing her say it felt like a punch to the nuts. Buh-bye, baby. “And how difficult was your decision?”
    The mattress creaked as she turned over to face him. Light from the fire danced on her face, softening her features, but making her eyes glow with a defiant glint.
    “I’m sensing that there’s a right and a wrong answer here, so why don’t you go ahead and tell me which one I should pick.” She propped herself up, matching his pose. “And why does any of this matter? I’m here. Isn’t that enough?”
    No, it wasn’t. Being here wasn’t the same as wanting to be here. If he had any emotions left in him at all, he’d be happy if just once, someone—anyone—truly wanted to be with him.
    “It doesn’t matter.” Impulsively, he kissed her on the forehead before rolling away to leave her alone on her side of the mattress.
    Weird, but this was the first time his massive bed didn’t feel big enough.
     

Chapter Eight
    Azagoth was gone when Lilliana got up the next morning. She experienced a fleeting twinge of disappointment, and then she buried her face in her pillow as she remembered feeling the press of Azagoth’s erection against her butt. The velvety tip had nudged her solidly between her cheeks, spreading heat through her pelvis as her nerve endings sparked with awareness.
    Everything about Azagoth and his realm might be polar-level cold, but his body was definitely in the triple digits.
    How she’d been able to speak a single word, let alone entire coherent sentences after that was beyond her comprehension. Her heart had hammered so hard and erratically that she’d felt it in her spine, and her lungs hadn’t been able to get enough air.
    If things hadn’t gone rapidly downhill right after that...nah. She’d have told him to roll over to his side of the bed and stay there.
    While she lay on her side and stared at the spanking bench across from her.
    Yawning, she started for the bathroom, slowing to give the bench a swat for keeping her awake for a good part of the night while she played out scenes in her head involving it and Azagoth. Inevitably, those scenes had turned ugly when she thought about the other females who had enjoyed a good spanking at his hand.
    Sometimes, an imagination was a terrible thing.
    His bathroom was the only truly light part of his manor that she’d found. Rough-cut white marble gave the room a masculine edge, but it was modern and elegant, and she could spend hours in the shower. Though she had to wonder why he needed five shower heads and two marble benches, but the heated floor tiles were a nice touch. How many females had he brought in here, anyway? She pictured him naked, water and suds sluicing over his muscular body, and suddenly the shower got a lot steamier.
    Stop it.
    Now he was on his knees, his tongue catching rivulets as they cascaded from her breasts to her abs.
    Stop it!
    In the next moment, she was bracing herself against the shower wall as he licked her sex, alternating quick flicks against her clit with long, firm strokes through her wet valley.
    Stop. It!
    Her blood quickened and her breaths came fast and hard as she drove her hand between her legs. In her mind, it was Azagoth’s tongue circling her sensitive nub before thrusting inside her core, and when her climax took her a second later, it was Azagoth’s name that whispered across her lips.
    And damn, imaginary Azagoth was good. Her knees shook as she dried off, but the mouthwatering smell of bacon spurred her on. Once dried, she selected a pair of skinny jeans, boots, and a form-fitting violet sweater from the wardrobe, then followed the aroma of food to the kitchen.
    Where she found a redheaded female in ripped-up jeans and a lacy fuchsia corset doing dishes.
    “Breakfast is on the