Page 248 of Venom Sweeter than Honey
My cheeks are no doubt flamingo-fucking-pink.
I clear my throat, trying to settle back against the bathtub, only to sink further into it when I realize my nipples are half out of the water.
My brows knit together as I scowl.
“You did that deliberately.”
He chuckles. “Naturally.”
My lips purse in an attempt to hide my grin and maintain my scowl.
“Scoundrel. Perhaps you aren’t so different after all.”
He gives me a noncommittal hum.
The silence between us seems to make the air so tight you could cut it with a blade. The only sound in the room is the steadydrip... drip... dripof the bathtub’s faucet.
That is until we hear dual masculine moans of pleasure from beyond the door.
My gaze slides from whatever corner I was distantly burning a hole through, to the door, as if I might somehow develop x-ray vision and bear witness to their sacred union. My core clenches needily at the thought.
Then to Azrael. Or... Azrael’s shadow, rather.
His brows lift. A grin teases a corner of his mouth. Mischief flickers in those amber eyes. “Scandalous.”
Ok, so maybe he isn’t all that different from Azrael.
“Shall we give them something to be jealous of?”
I choke on my own spit.
Spluttering, Azrael takes the liberty of rescuing me from drowning on a singular speck of saliva as he claps my back.
Sucking in reedy breaths, I watch as he steps into the tub, and sits across from me. Water sloshes over the edges from his enormous bulk. Lucky for him, the tub is meant to fit even the largest orc, so there’s enough room for us to both sit comfortably.
Too comfortably.
I manage to wheeze out the words, finally catching my breath.
“I’m certain that’s a terrible idea.”
Azrael grasps my feet and pulls them into his lap and begins to massage one.
My head immediately tips back on a moan as my eyes roll.
“Oh, fuck..."
The warm timbre of Azrael’s deep chuckle sends another lick of pleasure across my clit.
Yes, the mere sound of his chuckle is capable of such things.
And after trekking through the mountains for nearly five days, I am in no position to deny a foot massage.
Something firm grasps my other foot and begins kneading it. My head snaps back up to see his shadows have formed an identical set of dark hands.
Oh.
Oh my.
