Lucifer's Bride [Complete]

41

Ten pounds of sausage in a five pound bag. Even here that's a little harsh.

"Any way we could have someone make stuff for her?" I look over my shoulder at Lucifer.

He's pouting angrily. Not at me, but at my decision to treat my mother like more than just a servant. He has an in-depth knowledge of who she is and what she's done -- I was forced into this marriage because of her -- so he's less than thrilled that I'm treating her so kindly. He'd rather toss her into the flaming rivers and be done with it. But she's my mother and my servant, so I have the last word.

He glances at mom briefly, still upset, then returns his gaze to me and nods. "I suppose we could have the seamstresses create something..."

I smile and nearly skip over to him, looping my arms around his shoulders and crushing my lips to his. I hear his soft gasp of surprise morph into quite moan of lust. His arms encircle my waist, pulling me sharply against him. His hands slide down the smooth fabric of my robe and cup my ass, a possessive motion that lets the remaining demons in the room know he's staking his claim.

I nearly twitch away at first, then decide to lat him have his moment. Besides his hands feeling damn good massaging my ass, he needs a way to mark his territory against any overly-ambitious demons that may be eyeballing me from a distance. I'm also having the time of my life knowing that my prudish mother is watching my fallen angle husband feel me up. For a woman who's sold off her daughter for a failed attempt at the English crown, my mother has an incredibly hard time watching people explore their sexuality.

Silently, I decide to use our constant displays of affection as a tiny weapon against my mother. I don't have the heart to torture her or condemn her to death for what she's done to me. But I do have the confidence to make her suffer through watching Lucifer and I eat each other's faces off and ransack the bed.

It's a punishment that will reduce the need for having a demon pull out her hair as a torture. After two weeks, she'll be doing it herself.

Finally, after a few long heartbeats of kissing and having my ass wonderfully massaged, I pull away from Lucifer and smile up at him. He does his best to hold back his grin, but I can see the tiny flickers of lust in his bright eyes. A bubble of my own desire starts prodding my mind, and I smile to myself as I push it down gently, keeping it hidden for now.

Is it legal for a woman to want her husband like this?

Tearing my eyes away from my impossibly handsome husband, I turn back to my mother. She's staring at us with a mixture of horror and disgust, a sure sign that our few seconds of PDA worked like a charm.

I give her an apologetic smile. "Unfortunately, we don't have anything for you to wear besides the clothing you've been given."

My mother sulks like a child. "There's nothing I can wear?"

I raise my eyebrows. "Mom, have you ever been able to fit into my jeans?"

That shuts her up.

I shake my head. "For right now, you'll just have to deal with what you have. We'll have the seamstresses work something out and you can wear what they give you." I stop, eyeing my mother cautiously. "But only what they give you. This is Hell and you're my servant, so you don't get your choice of color or style. I'll do what I can to make you feel comfortable, but I run this place, not you."

She sighs and nods. I feel almost giddy. For the first time in years, my mom has acquiesced to falling into her place. And for the first time, I'm starting to feel like I'm a real queen.

"I'll put the order in for you to wear something besides rags. Until then, you can go. I'll call when I need you."

My mother stares at me for a moment, unsure of what to do. She knows her place is below me, but it must be incredibly difficult for her to relinquish the power she's held onto so tightly to her only daughter. Taking orders from me isn't something she's used to. She nods silently, though, and starts to make her way towards the door.