Chapter 41
Chapter
Forty-One
Barbie
“So wet for me,” Killian purred, his fingers possessively parting my folds. “And I’ve barely started.”
Stars spun as the leyline carried us home.
“I’ve been wet since you woke me up during The Marriage of Figaro,” I admitted, grinding against his hand.
“Who cares about the marriage of Figaro, baby,” he murmured, his fingers circling my clit in slow, maddening strokes that had me whimpering.
“But you took me to see that opera in Italy,” I managed. “Figaro and Susanna might be servants, but they deserve love too. Sex is for everyone, no matter their class, race, age, or bad looks. I get it.”
Killian chuckled. “I don’t think you do. You were asleep halfway through. I wouldn’t have woken you if you were just drooling on my chest, but your snoring started drawing attention away from Figaro’s confession of love, and that guy was loud.”
My face flamed. That hadn’t been my finest moment, especially when Killian was making an effort to take me on a proper date.
He felt he hadn’t courted me properly and wanted to make up for it.
More than that, he wanted to show his dragon how to truly woo a woman.
Apparently, Tyson’s idea of romance involved bringing his mate charred meat roasted by dragon fire and taking her on aerial tours.
“There’s a whole world beyond hunting and flying,” he lectured his dragon.
He also wanted to remind himself and me that no matter what came next, we shouldn’t forget to actually live our lives. Hence the opera in Venice.
“I just didn’t understand a single word they sang,” I said defensively.
“You weren’t supposed to understand them, baby. It’s Italian opera,” he replied.
I blinked at him. “Then how was I supposed to enjoy the show?”
He chuckled, having gotten far more out of the date than I had, no doubt remembering the havoc we had wreaked in that opera house.
As soon as he had woken me, an overwhelming lust for him had crashed over me. I couldn’t help it, and man, I’d tried—I’d squeezed my thighs together, which only made it worse.
His dragon had sniffed my scent and roared its approval, and things went to shit from there. Not for us, but for the rest of the audience and the performers. Our lust infused the air like a potent aphrodisiac. Everyone breathed it in, their own desires amplifying tenfold with every gasp.
When a goddess and a demigod dragon got horny among them, the humans didn’t stand a chance.
Before they knew what had hit them, their skin became hypersensitive, their hearts raced, and their sexes throbbed with an uncontrollable ache.
So when Figaro dragged Susanna down to the floor and mounted her, the audience was already lost. Hands groped where they shouldn’t, and worse—the entire opera house descended into a temple of orgies.
Killian and I didn’t stay to witness the full extent of the scandal, having left early to take care of our own urgent needs.
We’d hurried back through the leyline, unable to keep our hands off each other. His skilled fingers worked between my thighs, savoring my wetness, and brought me to the edge of release before we even portaled home.
“Do you enjoy this, my little scorpion?” he purred, still smirking from the memory of the chaos we’d caused. “But you aren’t allowed to come. Not until I say so. You just need to remember who you belong to.”
I gasped as another wave of mindless pleasure hit me, the ache in my molten core only intensifying.
“You know I belong to you and Tyson. How many times must I say it?”
“Never enough, baby. Now tell me, what would make you happy?” he asked, his voice a dark rumble. “I’d pluck the stars for you if that’s what you want. Where would you like me to take you for our next date?”
“There’s a next? Well,” I said, my eyes sparkling as an idea fueled by Sy’s endless gossip hit me, “since you asked, would you cook for me? It’d be incredibly hot to see my man in an apron.”
Sy and Rowan, along with Louis, Silas, and Cade, had gone to the void at Marigold’s invitation. They were having the time of their lives hunting monsters and residing in the ivory tower, which was, in fact, a palace of orgies.
Cade, Silas, and Louis were apparently chasing after those half-siren women.
Marigold had even hosted a Bachelors and Brides Selection reality show.
The competition for the first Bachelor winner was fierce, with those three and two dozen other warriors vying for the privilege.
Rock was among them; Killian had sent him as part of the entourage to spy on everyone.
I’d had General Baal send Amon for the same purpose.
Baal himself had wanted to go, but someone had to manage the Underworld while I only made my token appearances.
My role as queen of the dark realm consisted of Tyson flying me over mountains of lava under the twin moons, blowing fire for everyone to see.
My demon subjects were quite satisfied with the spectacle.
I didn’t actually need Amon’s reports, since Sy messaged me daily on Spinchat, sharing every unnecessary detail, mostly about her torrid sex life.
The magical wireless connection was remarkable; the tablet worked even across realms. We’d tried FaceTime at first, but Rowan was often naked and conspicuously well-hung in the background.
After Tyson’s third growl of disapproval, I’d switched to voice calls and mostly PMs.
According to Sy’s updates, the guys had gotten into the second round of the Bachelors, which was a cooking contest. So far, Silas was in the lead, which had driven Louis to increasingly desperate tactics.
The vampire heir had allegedly howled at the moon at midnight to attract the crowd that was into wolf shifters.
“Let them be carefree one last time before they return to take up their mantles,” Killian had said. “They’ve earned that vacation.”
“Good luck if any of them actually bring back a bride,” I’d muttered.
Those women from the void were even more vicious than Sy. Still, I missed her terribly. When she was in the realm, everything seemed brighter. After all, she was the incarnation of the old magic.
Sometimes I thought about Lilith. She was gone forever, but I carried her legacy now. I had been more of a tool than a daughter to her, more a weapon than a child. Yet, despite all the harm she’d caused me, she’d preserved my sister.
RIP, fallen star.
Next day, Killian was cooking for me, a thing he did for no one else. He wasn’t wearing an apron, though. He lifted me effortlessly and set me on the kitchen island, then turned back to the burners where two pots steamed.
Watching your man cook in all his nude glory could ruin you for all others, and Killian was devastatingly sexy.
His shoulder and back muscles flexed as he dropped angel hair pasta into boiling water, stirring with a predator’s casual grace.
As I stared at the powerful lines of his back, the way his muscles shifted beneath his golden skin, a haze of heat seared through me.
Without realizing it, my hand drifted between my thighs, a finger slipping inside my cunt.
A moan escaped my throat before I could stop it.
Killian wheeled toward me, his storm-blue eyes darkening with burning lust as they locked on mine.
I spread my legs wide, feet planted on the edge of the marble, baring my pussy to him. I let him watch as my finger moved in slowly before plunging deeper. My eyes grew heavy-lidded, lashes fluttering, lips parting to let out a soft, sensual sound.
His eyes flared molten gold. A growl rumbled from his chest, raw and hungry.
“Fuck, woman.” His voice was gravel and silk. “You’ll be the death of me.”
He abandoned the stove, closing the distance between us in one powerful stride. His mouth claimed mine with bruising intensity, and I tasted his male need as his restraint shattered.
The kiss consumed me. His tongue swept over the roof of my mouth before dancing with mine, swallowing my gasps.
His hands gripped my hips, anchoring me possessively.
I bit his lower lip to prove I could match his dominance, and my mate groaned into my mouth, the rich, sexy sound vibrating through my body.
When we broke apart, we were both panting. His hand cupped my breast, his thumb brushing over the hardened peak. Pleasure shot straight to my core. I tried to squeeze my thighs to ease the ache, but he was in the way, his hardness pressed insistently against my belly.
I wanted to beg him to take me, to enter me right then, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of my desperation. I could hold out a little longer, even as I wiggled my ass to show my impatience.
He squeezed my heavy breast, then pinched the peak, and I arched into his touch. His other hand tangled in my hair, tilting my head back to expose my throat.
“Mine,” he growled against my skin.
Ours! the dragon added.
His mouth descended to my throat, his lips and teeth working in tandem. He sucked hard enough to brand me, and the dragon’s satisfaction rumbled against my pulse. His tongue traced the line of my jugular before he bit down where my neck met my shoulder, not breaking the skin but coming close.
The dragon approved. Tyson loved to bite, too.
I threw my head back, offering him everything, and felt the smirk against my skin before his lips traveled lower to the swell of my breast. When his mouth closed over my nipple, I cried out, my fingers fisting in his hair.
His tongue circled the taut peak before he drew it between his teeth, sucking hard enough to blend pleasure and pain into one devastating sensation.
And when he bit down, I nearly came apart.
He lavished attention on one breast until I was trembling, then moved to the other with the same fierce possessiveness, his hand tracing down to knead my clit.
I cried out in pleasure. He made me burn. Only for him. Always for him.
It was a sweet agony, and I needed more.
“Please,” I gasped, rolling my hips against his hardness.