I had lived and fought for thousands of years, always winning the war. Why was one lone female so difficult to protect?
My gaze never faltered as I watched and waited for some sign that my wife was alive. Hours passed, as I fought the urge to tear down the world to find her. My barely contained wolf growled, and from my depths, a lone howl filled the night air. I promised when I got my hands on her, she would learn that her place was by my side.
Since returning from the lagoon, I had packed Sandalphon away. Like a toy a child had grown bored with, I didn’t want anything to do with my angel self.
The eve of war is upon us and Iver has become so much more than an offspring of a fallen. He has morphed and his wolf is the stuff of legends, huge, winged and coming for me. I have disobeyed him and when he finds me, I will feel his wrath. Shivers of anticipation race down my spine as he pursues me, his words echoing in my mind… You are a very naughty girl, Isabelle, and you will be punished…
Publisher’s Note: The steamy conclusion to the Angels and Demons series contains graphic scenes and a theme of power exchange.
A convulsion swept through me as my body responded to him, even though he was right. I’d been switched once and hated it. Yet my body was betraying me, asking for the very thing I disliked.
He chuckled again in his deep, houndish voice. “I’m glad you remember, but unlike the first time, no hands required.”
With that, I was suspended over an imaginary lap. I could feel Iver’s thigh beneath my stomach, but he was still on the bed. Then I felt a tickling down my back, causing goosebumps to break out, and next, I heard the swoosh of a switch moving quickly through the air and felt the strike against my naked backside and the inevitable sting that followed.
I stared into Iver’s piercing blue chips, while he watched me getting my ass whipped. It was so hot, despite the pain, I couldn’t help but be turned on. On the next lash, I screeched with the burning sting. Hands soothed my stinging backside while another set gently gripped my breasts. Iver continued to lord it over me while delivering numerous sensations to break me to his will. His mouth alternated, taking my nipples in his mouth. I had never had anyone play with my nipples while being spanked, and I found it intoxicating. The lash of the switch changed from being a tool of punishment into an instrument of arousal.
I was wet and could feel the slickness between my legs. Iver’s increased wolf senses smelled my arousal. My legs were parted, and a finger flicked and teased my excited clit. “Oh, Iver, I’m going to—”
Everything stopped but the whipping, which picked up in intensity. “Oww,” I howled in defiance. “What was that for?”
“Daddy, or Sir, you call me Iver again while we are playing out this punishment scene, and I won’t allow you to orgasm, and trust me, I can leave you sexually frustrated for a long time.” His eyes glinted menacingly, and I realized this wasn’t a game to him. He was angry and exacting his revenge.
“Yes, Daddy,” I answered obediently. Immediately, the intensity of the strokes softened to a tolerable level, and I let out a sigh of relief. This reminded me of the night I had asked him what to wear to dinner. The one and only time he’d had me call him Daddy. As I recalled, the dinner had been spectacular, and we’d had sex in the bathroom before we left the restaurant.
The switching suddenly stopped, thank heavens, and I hung limply over the invisible Iver leg, wondering what he would do to me next. Meanwhile, the real Iver had moved out of my range of vision. I heard drawers opening and closing. And then he was back in front of me and making a meal of my breasts.
While he was busy. I felt something probing my ass. A small plug? My answer came a moment later when my ass was fucked by the intrusive object and burned terribly. “Oh my god, ginger? You must hate me, Daddy!”