“There you go,” she was saying in a soothing voice. “Fastest way to ease out an adrenaline overload is sex.”

Adrenaline overload? Maybe the False Angel ability jacked into the adrenal glands and rendered their partners unable to follow orders. It was as good an explanation as any, and he was happy to lay the blame for his slipup on her.

Feeling better now, he arched into her hands and fucked her fists as they pumped him.

“Hurry,” he growled. “I need to be inside you.”

“For once I agree with you.”

Shifting, she stood his cock up and positioned herself over the tip. Then she paused, and he ground his teeth at the agonizing delay.

“Wait.” She bit down on one kiss-swollen lip. “Protection.”

“False Angels can only breed with False Angels,” he said, and shouldn’t she know that?

“Yes, I know. But you’re some kind of super fallen angel. What if —”

“I’m an angel,” he pointed out. “Angels aren’t fertile in Sheoul. Prevents demons from capturing them and using them to breed hybrid abominations.”

“How is it possible that you’re an angel anyway?” She frowned, losing the saucy, aroused edge, and shit, he had to get back on the sex track.

“I never fell from Heaven. Long story. I’ll tell you after.” He arched up, reminding her that now wasn’t the time for talking. It was time for fucking.

“Should be a good story.” She stroked his cock in her fist, giving it a couple of good pumps before replacing it at her opening.

He held his breath as she lowered herself, head thrown back, lips parted, her sex swallowing his erection in slow, torturous increments. The erotic sight made him groan, his sex kicking hard inside her as if urging her to hurry.

“That’s it. Fuck, that’s so it,” he breathed. “You’re so damned wet.”

A low, hungry moan broke from her lips as she took him to the hilt. She swiveled her hips and rose up until he nearly came free of her tight heat, and then she sat down again, faster this time, but still way too slow for his tastes.

He hoped she was done with the control-freak trip she was on, because it was his turn.

On the next upstroke, he dug his heels into the mattress and arched his hips to buck her, lifting her knees off the bed and forcing her to fall forward. As her palms shot out to brace her body on his chest, he rolled his hips, penetrating her deep.

Her gasp of pleasure joined his as the pace picked up, breathing became frantic, and the sound of slapping bodies dropped them into a maelstrom of ecstasy. Her breasts, flushed and heavy with arousal, bounced as she rode him, and when she cupped one, tweaking the nipple between her fingers, he nearly came undone.

“Show me your wings, Blaspheme,” he murmured breathlessly. “I want to see all of you.”

He thought he saw a flicker of alarm in her eyes, but a heartbeat later, delicate wings spread from her back, extending high into the air. Unlike true angel or fallen angel wings, they were neither leathery nor layered with feathers, were instead shimmery and translucent, like a bride’s veil sprinkled with glitter.

They were so transparent, in fact, that they seemed to flicker in and out of existence until finally, she folded them neatly behind her back and let them fade completely away.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

She met his gaze, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. The intensity in her expression, the sultry cast of her eyes and lips… damn, he was ready to spill into her, to make her moan his name from that sexy mouth.

“So are you.” She arched in pleasure, the graceful curve of her body the epitome of False Angel perfection. “You’re a bastard, Revenant, but a beautiful one.”

Never had anyone given him such a precious compliment, and for a few stuttering heartbeats, he froze, committing her words to memory.

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.