6. Reth
RETH
She’s above me.
Relief crashes through me so violently it almost hurts—a raw, bone-deep wave of thank fuck, you’re here that steals the air from my lungs. I’ve missed her like a man misses oxygen after drowning.
For weeks, I’ve been starving for this, for her—the only thing that still feels real in the dark. The only light I have left. Seeing her now, even in this fevered dream, feels like coming home after years of war.
My chest cracks open with it, gratitude and desperate longing twisting together until I can barely breathe.
She leans down first, slow and reverent, and kisses me like I’m something sacred she’s afraid to break. Her lips are soft, warm, tasting like sleep and vanilla and the faint sweetness of the muffins still cooling on the counter.
Gold hair falls around us like a curtain, brushing my chest, and for a moment the kiss is gentle, almost worshipful, her mouth moving against mine like she’s memorizing the shape of me. Like she knows exactly how long I’ve been without her. Like she missed me just as badly.
A sharp, aching longing and desperation slam into me all at once.
Fuck, I missed this. I missed her.
Weeks of nothing but stone and blood and poison, and now she’s here, real and warm and mine.
I groan into her mouth, a broken, grateful sound, and kiss her back, fiercer, hungrier. Her taste—sweet, clean, hers—floods my senses, and I drink it down greedily, tongue sliding against hers, savoring every soft sigh, every tiny whimper she gives me.
She tastes like a home I never had. Like the only good thing I’ve ever been allowed to touch. Like forgiveness I don’t deserve but will take anyway.
“You’re here,” I murmur against her mouth. “You’re really here.”
“I am. Here. Yours.” Her tongue slips between my lips, seeking, and the reverence catches fire.
I cup the back of her head, fingers threading through that silky gold hair, holding her to me as I devour her. I lick into her mouth, slow and deep and filthy, tasting every corner like I’m trying to commit her to memory all over again.
Her moans are heady, melting against my chest, and the sound vibrates straight to my cock, making it throb painfully between us.
God, she feels so fucking good. The warm weight of her body straddling me, the soft press of her tits against my chest, the slick heat of her bare pussy resting against my achingly hard shaft—it’s almost too much after so long without her.
God, how I’ve craved this. The way she fits against me like she’s made to be here. The way her skin is like silk under my rough hands.
I slide my palms down her back, gripping her ass, pulling her tighter against me so I can absorb every inch of her naked body pressed to mine.
She rocks, slow and teasing, her soaked cunt gliding along my hard length, coating me in her slick.
The wet, slippery friction is pure torture and pure heaven, and I never want to feel anything else.
Nothing in this world is better than this, right here, right now, just her consuming me, every move of her body saying you’re worthy, perfect, mine.
I groan into her mouth, hips twitching up instinctively, desperate for more.
“Sophia,” I rasp against her lips, voice wrecked with weeks of missing her. “Fuck, I missed you. Missed this mouth. Missed the way you taste. Missed how wet you get for me.”
“I missed you, too.”
I breathe in her words, tasting forever where she’d left it coiled and aching whenever she haunted my dreams. Blonde, perfect, impossibly hot and soft and messy, every piece of her better than I remember.
She’s soaked, dripping, sliding her wet cunt up and down my shaft in long, teasing strokes without ever letting me inside. The hot, slippery friction is torture. Every glide coats me in her arousal, the head of my cock catching on her swollen clit as she rocks.
I groan into her mouth, hips jerking up instinctively, but she keeps control, driving me fucking crazy with the slow, deliberate rub of her cunt all over me.
“I don’t ever want to be away from you again,” I say against her soft, heady lips. “Don’t ever leave me.”
“Never,” she whimpers, kissing me harder, tongue tangling with mine as she grinds down, rubbing her pussy all over my cock. The heat of her, the slick glide, it’s driving me out of my mind.
How I’ve dreamed of this. In the dark, in the filth, in the haze of whatever poison Valeria pumped into me. I dreamed of her taste, her heat, the way she opens for me like no one else ever has.
My hand grabs the back of her head, and I pull her closer, kiss her deeper, teeth clashing.
I want to pour every lonely, aching night into her.
I want to fuck her, but I want her to suffer for it a little, to know how much I’ve burned and withered these last weeks.
I reach between us, slick fingers sliding over the silk of her skin, and rub her clit in tight, slow circles that make her shudder above me.
“Nazareth,” she moans my name like a prayer answered wrong.
“You’re dripping all over my cock, baby. Such a greedy little thing.”
She smiles against my mouth, wicked and sweet at once, then shifts lower, and her hand wraps around my throbbing shaft, stroking me slow and firm, thumb circling the slick head.
I watch, mesmerized, drugged on the feel of her, as she leans down, hair spilling soft and cool across my thighs and stomach.
Her tongue flicks out, licking a long, slow stripe from base to tip, tasting herself on me. Then she takes me into her mouth.
My head falls back, my throat craned as I groan. “Fuck, baby girl.” The wet heat is devastating.
Biting my bottom lip, I glance down. She’s sucking me deep, tongue swirling, then relaxes her throat until I feel the tight squeeze as she swallows around me, nose brushing my pelvis.
The sight of her—lips stretched wide, eyes watering, golden hair everywhere—is the filthiest, most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Jesus Christ,” I groan, fingers tangling in her hair. “Your mouth feels so fucking good. That’s it—take every inch, Sophia. It’s fucking yours.”
She hums around me, the vibration shooting straight to my balls. I’m so close already, hips twitching, fighting the urge to fuck her throat.
Just when I feel the edge rushing up, she pulls off with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her lips to my glistening cock. She looks up at me, lips swollen and shiny, eyes dark with lust.
Then she positions herself again, straddling my hips, grips my cock and rubs the head through her soaked folds, teasing her entrance. It takes all my self-control not to fuck up into her.
Achingly slowly, she starts to sink down. The wrap is exquisite. Her pussy is scorching and impossibly tight, the velvety walls fluttering and stretching around my thickness as she forces herself to take me.
Her thigh muscles are locked tight, trembling with strain, the definition standing out sharply as she controls every fraction of the descent.
I watch, dazed and feral, as her cunt slowly swallows me—lips stretched obscenely wide around my girth, her slick dripping down my shaft in shiny rivulets with every careful lowering.
“Fuck… look at that,” I rasp, voice wrecked. “Your greedy little cunt is opening up so beautifully for me. Taking every thick inch like it was made to be fucked by this cock.”
She whimpers, the sound high and needy, but she doesn’t speed up. She keeps it torturously slow, rolling her hips in tiny, sensual circles as she works herself lower. The wet, filthy sounds of her pussy taking me fill the room—slick, obscene, perfect.
Halfway down, she pauses, breathing hard, her walls pulsing and clenching around the half of my cock she’s already taken. I can feel her trying to adjust, trying to make room for all of me, and it drives me fucking insane.
“More,” I growl, fingers digging bruises into her hips. “Take all of it.”
She moans, head falling back, hair cascading down her spine like liquid sunlight. Her tits are flushed and heaving with every shaky breath, and I reach for them, cupping them, rolling rosy nipples between my fingers.
Fuck, she’s beautiful. She’s beyond beautiful. She’s mine.
The heat is unbearable—scorching, silky, gripping me so perfectly it feels like she’s trying to pull me deeper into her soul.
Lower. Lower. Lower.
I groan when she finally seats herself fully, every last inch buried to the hilt inside her, and she lets out a shuddering moan.
Her cunt spasms, pulses, rippling and squeezing like it’s trying to milk me already.
She pauses there, fully impaled, rolling her hips in slow, sensual circles that grind her clit against my pelvis and make my cock twitch inside her.
“God, Nazareth,” she breathes, voice husky and filthy. “You’re so deep. I can feel you in my stomach. You’re splitting me open so perfectly… I love how full you make me.”
“Fuck.” My hands are on her waist now, fighting the overwhelming urge to flip and fuck her until she cries for me to make her come.
I can feel her arousal coating my balls, dripping down to my ass, the obscene wetness of how turned on she is.
“I love you,” I murmur through labored breaths, every muscle pulled taut, balls tightened. “I love you so fucking much. You know that, right?”
Her face is pure ecstasy as she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth.
“You’re my first. My last, Sophia Sinclair,” I confess, clenching my jaw, fighting the urge the come. I’m not ready for it to be over. Not ready to let her go.
She leans forward slightly, bracing her hands on my chest, working my cock inside her like she’s savoring every ridge and vein. Her head falls back once more, lips parted on a continuous stream of soft, desperate moans, and I can’t fucking take it anymore.
“Fuck,” I snarl, voice raw. “You need to ride me properly, baby girl.”
My grip on her waist turns brutal. I plant my feet on the bed and thrust up into her with savage force, impaling her deep in one powerful stroke. She cries out, a sharp, filthy sound that goes straight to my cock.
I don’t give her time to adjust. I piston up into her again and again, hips snapping hard, driving my thick cock into her soaked cunt with relentless, punishing strokes.
She’s no longer riding me. I’m fucking her.
My glutes burn with every brutal upward thrust, the muscles clenching and firing as I fuck up into her, the euphoria strong and unstoppable.
My abs are tight, corded, sweat slicking my skin as I use every ounce of strength to slam into her. The wet slap of skin on skin, obscene and perfect—her wet pussy taking every violent inch, squeezing me like she never wants to let go.
“Take it,” I growl, voice wrecked with lust. “Take every fucking inch, Sophia. This cunt belongs to me. I’m going to fuck you so deep you feel me for days.”
She moans my name—Nazareth—broken and desperate, hands scrambling for purchase on my chest as I keep going. Her tits bounce wildly with every thrust, nipples tight and begging.
I release one hand from her waist just long enough to slap her ass hard, the sound cracking through the room, then grip her again and pull her down onto my cock as I drive up, burying myself to the hilt over and over.
I can feel her getting closer, her walls tightening around me like a vise, her moans turning into helpless cries.
“That’s it,” I rasp, teeth gritted, sweat dripping down my temples. “Show me you’re mine by coming on my cock.”
I angle my hips, hitting that spot deep inside her that I’ve learned makes her crazy.
“Nazareth. I’m coming.” Tendons around her throat pulls taut, nails breaking skin as she claws at my chest. “Oh, God, yes. This is better than I imagined.”
I feel the squeeze, feel the throb, her orgasm vibrating her pussy, her cunt wringing my dick hard, and I can’t stop it.
I come. Hard. Violent.
My vision whites out. Overload. Nerves lighting up and blowing out in strobing ecstasy. And I’m thrusting up deep, spilling inside her.
But something’s different.
Something’s wrong.
It's subtle at first—the way wrongness always is in dreams, a detail that doesn't fit, a texture that's slightly off.
Her hair. It's the hair. The gold of it catches the Paris light, and it's right, it's exactly right, but when it falls forward it falls differently. Heavier. Darker at the root.
I blink.
The light shifts.
Her hands on my chest—I look at them. The shape of them. The way they press. Sophia's hands are soft in a way I know by heart. I have memorized them. I could identify them in the dark, and these hands are—
These hands are not hers.
The cold moves through the dream like a blade.
No.
I look up.
Green eyes. That's what I see first, what I reach for—Green eyes, Sophia has green eyes, this is her, this is—
They're not green.
They're dark.
“No. No. No.” Horror licks up my spine like flames.
The face above me smiles in a way Sophia has never smiled—triumphant, cruel, victorious.
Hair falls forward again, and it’s dark all the way through.
The light isn’t amber. The smell isn’t vanilla and muffins. It’s copper and bleach and rot and her.
Her mouth opens, purring against my ear. “I always knew your cock would feel this good.”
The world stops.
“Valeria?” My voice is barely a whisper.
A slow smile creeps up her face, victorious, satiated. “You were wonderful, Nazareth. Just like I knew you’d be.”
Horror slams into me like a sledgehammer to the sternum, cracking my ribs, crushing my lungs.
This isn’t Sophia. This is her.
Her cunt is still clenching lazily around my softening cock, slick with the evidence of what we just…what I just…
What the fuck did I just do?