“Take your clothes off,” she demanded.

“You aren’t going to take them off for me?”

She graced him with a flirty smile that was so feminine and sexy that he didn’t wait for her answer. He wished his clothes away, and poof, they were gone.

Instantly, her teasing playfulness shifted into something hotter. More intense. If he’d known that getting naked was all it took, he’d have pulled a Magic Mike the first time he met her.

Her eyes took him in, his muscles flexing where her gaze landed. By the time she reached his rock-hard cock, his entire body was just as hard, primed for whatever she wanted.

“What do you think a False Angel would do now?” she asked.

He had no idea what a False Angel would do, but he knew what he’d suggest. “She’d lick my balls.”

She cocked a blond eyebrow. “Really.” She might be playing it cool, but the delicate aroma of her arousal rose up, heightening his own.

“Really.”

He didn’t think she’d do it, so he let out a strangled moan when she dropped to her knees and pressed those soft, silky lips against his sac. Holy hell, she was doing it, she was licking and sucking, nibbling and —

“Damn,” he breathed as she sucked a testicle into her mouth and hummed around it. He caught himself before he palmed her head and guided her mouth to catch the release that would be coming at any second.

But before he hit mission critical status, she was up on her feet, her teasing smile making it clear that she knew exactly how close he’d been.

And how much agony he was now in.

False Angels were evil.

“On the bed,” she commanded, and as much as he detested being told what to do, he hit that mattress in record time, lying on his back while he watched her strip.

She didn’t tease him out on this. With the same crisp efficiency he’d seen her use when he’d been tending to his wounds, she shed her clothes, leaving them in a neat pile at the foot of the bed. Then she stood there, looking both tentative and eager, though how she managed that, he had no idea.

Nor did he care. Not when she was standing at his feet, her elegant, supple body a work of goddamned art. Her breasts were full and heavy, the dusky nipples peaked with arousal. Her slim waist was made for a male to circle his hands around as he lifted her up and down on his cock.

And between her legs, she was smooth, her plump nether lips parted slightly, just enough to show a hint of glistening pink flesh.

Holy hell, his dick hurt.

“I thought False Angels were proud of their… special ornamentation.”

“As we’ve established, I’m not your normal False Angel.” She climbed onto the bed, the mattress sinking under her weight. “I wax.”

He groaned. “I like.”

She crawled up his body, her palms sliding up his shins to his thighs, her eyes bright with hunger. “Do you want to touch me?” Her husky voice vibrated all the way to the balls she’d just sucked so skillfully.

“Fuck, yes.”

Her grin was downright sinister. “Too bad.”

Lowering her head, she brushed her lips over the head of his cock. The thing jerked, slapping her across the mouth. As punishment, she nipped him on the sensitive seam just under the crown.

His bark of pain and pleasure made the chains on the wall rattle.

“Well, well,” she murmured. “Someone likes that.”

“Someone has never had that done to him before.” In five thousand years, no female had ever done that. And he’d had some rough-as-fuck partners. “Do it again.”

“I have a better idea.”

Better than that? No way —

Oh, fuck, yes. Straddling him, she scooted forward, that sweet cleft coming closer and closer to his face. His mouth began to water and his fangs began to pulse, and even his dick was leaking.

He’d never been so desperate to get intimate with a female in that way. It was as if he’d starve if she didn’t lower herself against his lips in the next ten seconds.

As she gripped the headboard and positioned herself above him, he fisted his hands at his sides, praying for control. The rules… he couldn’t break the rules. But damn, his fingers itched to touch her. To spread her. To penetrate her.

“False Angels are supposed to taste like apples.” Licking his lips, he lifted his head to meet her as she tilted her hips, putting her sex in contact with his mouth. She moaned as he slipped his tongue between her plump folds. Her slick honey flooded his mouth with the crisp tang of red apples, milder than he’d expected, mixed with her own feminine spice he’d take over fruit any day.

Pain shot up his wrists, and he realized he was clenching his fists so hard his nails were digging into his palms. Willing his hands to relax, he pierced her with his tongue.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Like that.”

Oh, so she liked when he pushed his tongue deep inside her? Too bad. She was torturing him, so he’d do the same.

He’d always been about the what-goes-around-comes-around.

Shifting his head for a better angle, he dragged the flat of his tongue through her valley, flicking the tip over her clit at the end of the upstroke. She cursed darkly, her body quivering as he did it again. And again. On the fourth pass, he lingered on her swollen knot of nerves, circling it as her hips rolled to match his rhythm.

Her orgasm was close, so close that the air became charged with her need. His cock and balls throbbed, and he hoped like hell the no-touching gag order didn’t apply to him, because he palmed himself and squeezed, holding back what was no doubt going to be a climax for the record books.