Lucifer

The room echoed with their moans, groans, lewd sounds of the act bouncing off the four walls.

At first lucifer cared. They were in his daughter's hotel, and this was never an act he wanted his daughter to overhear.

But now he seemed to forget that possibility. Long tongue lapping at your swollen clit. Fingers stuffed deep inside you, a wet plopping noise sounding out as he curled and thrust them in and out of you. His free hand reaching up to gently, or, not so gently, grab your left leg. Holding the shaky limb in his hand and pushing it farther down onto the bed as he added a third finger.

His eyes flickered up, sucking slightly on that bundle of nerves he knew all too well, watching the way your eyes were fixated on his actions, the near guilt that entered them when your arousal soaked his golden wedding band that was long overworn.

He wanted to make you cum. To send you over the edge into a spiral of intoxicating pleasure. Lucifer wanted to make sure you knew you were his.

Lucifer wanted to make you cum so hard you forgot about any other man.