CHAPTER TWELVE #2
The image is so clear as he drives himself inside me with hungry thrusts. Me, legs wide around thick, muscular thighs. Pussy wet and swollen, stretched around a familiar knot. I’ve cum so many times, he’s soaked. My lips are shiny and I’m cumming again.
“That’s it, my queen. Let them see who you belong to.” One clawed finger strokes my twitching clit and keeps going even after I’ve stopped shuddering. “Did you count how many times you’ve milked your king’s seed into your womb?”
I can’t think of anything but the overlapping assault of pleasure he keeps forcing me to take.
“I can’t stop,” I beg, sobbing as he coaxes another. “You feel so good. I want you to wear me like this for the rest of my...”
I cum with him touching my switch and my body soaks his balls.
“Malakar.”
From the crowd, Lukan emerges. But it’s not. He’s a tall figure, blurry and hard to see, but a part of me knows, recognizes him when he bows.
“Your Queen needs a cleaning, and so do I.”
The memory fades and flickers as he hurries forward and falls to his knees.
I still can’t recall his face but his tongue .
.. his long, slithering tongue is cleaning my pussy.
It’s wrapping around Father’s cock, under the knot plugging me.
He strokes while Father holds me open and Lukan — Malakar — palms Father’s balls. Travels lower.
Father huffs in my hair as he’s penetrated by Malakar’s fingers.
I gasp and wrench my eyes open.
“Malakar!”
Lukan jerks to a stop. His head comes up fast and he searches my face with pure hope on his.
“Do you remember?”
Panting, I shake my head. “I remember something, but ... don’t stop.”
On command, he pumps faster. Harder. His eyes never leave my face.
My climax is so close, but I still can’t reach it as Malakar washes my channel with his scalding cum.
Still not cool, I think, dully. Must mean I’m not pregnant yet.
That’s a thought for later as Ciaran moves to take his place.
“Deep breath. Numb or not, you will take every inch.”
It’s not a cock.
It’s a beast. A relentless slab of hard, rigid meat that rips my channel. It invades with no mercy even though he’s going slow.
“You’re ripping me in half!” I wail, head falling back.
“I took you on your knees the first time. In the dirt with your ass up in invitation.” His hands close onto my hips. “You squirted so hard you turned the ground to mud and it didn’t stop the entire time I took you. You will do it again.”
With a jerk, he slams home and I can’t even scream as my body finally unlocks and I cum with such violent ferocity I think I black out.
“What did I fucking tell you?” he groans when I can finally move. Breathe. “Your cunt needs this.”
He’s not wrong as I continue to seize and thrash in midair. My channel squirts, eating every inch of the monstrous cock he’s beating my insides with.
“Still so tight, but we’ll fix that.”
His idea of fixing it is fucking me harder. Making me scream and writhe as he breaks me over and over until I can do no more than sob his name.
His real name.
I can barely think by the time he fills me with a groan of pleasure. Cum scorching my walls and sending a fresh wave of sweet agony through me.
All three men are there the second he pulls free, unraveling the cords and pulling me down with such tenderness. Ciaran gathers me up, scooping me against his chest like a child and moving to the sofa where Aamon folds me up in a blanket.
Aamon and Malakar are dressed, I note. Back in the clothes they came in. It gives me some hope that they’ll give me a chance to recuperate before starting over.
“How are you feeling?” Malakar perches on the cushion by my feet and pulls my legs into his lap. His long fingers rub and knead the wire marks across my thighs. “Did we hurt you?”
Despite the overwhelming desire to shut my eyes and sleep for the week, I chuckle. “Yes, but...” I add quickly when they stiffen. “I liked it.”
Aamon kisses the top of my head as Ciaran leans in and captures my lips in a slow, loving motion of tongue and fingers through my hair.
“We have waited for such a long time to be with you again. We may have gotten carried away,” he says with a sheepish grin.
I pull back to peer into his eyes — soft, pale silver. I let my gaze travel along the hard lines crafting his gorgeous features.
But it’s not his face.
The one he’s ... they’re wearing belong to people I don’t know anymore. They’re masks that only serve to make me all the more curious to see their faces.
“When can I see your actual form?”
He strokes my cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Whenever you wish.”
“Now?” I press.
Ciaran chuckles. “I would wait. Our true forms won’t fit in this house.”
“We’d be a bit squished,” Malakar murmurs, grinning.
I bite my lip. “That big, huh?”
The three burst out laughing and I giggle at the beautiful sound filling the room.
“We can be as big or as little as you like, your highness,” Ciaran says, the first to sober.
“No highness business,” I say quickly, nose crinkling. “It’s too weird.”
Malakar and Aamon exchange grimaces, but Ciaran captures my chin, turning my attention to him.
“Father will not like that. He was very clear that everyone must address you with respect. Including us.”
“We can use your name in the bedroom, but in court...” Aamon adds.
I raise an eyebrow at the silliness of that. “He literally fucked me in the middle of court. What kind of respect does he think I’ll be getting?”
Ciaran and Aamon study me with matching confusion that has their brows pulling together, and both turn to the third man who winces sheepishly.
“That’s my fault. That was a fantasy. Father would never share you with anyone else ... besides us. And even we have rules.”
“But I saw it,” I insist. “And you said he’d make me sit on him in front of everyone...”
“It was a game you liked playing.” His grin is apologetic, but dirty simultaneously. “He’d make you think you were surrounded by people while he made you take him.”
I want to be relieved. I certainly never thought I’d be the kind of person who enjoyed being watched, yet the thought of it has me shifting slightly against Cieran’s hard thigh.
“And that’s why he liked playing that game with you,” he teases into my ear when I release a rush of liquid across his lap.
“Why did I leave then?” I ask. “If everything was so perfect and I was so happy, why am I not still with him?”
“Because everything has rules, my love,” Ciaran answers softly. “When you came to us the first time, there were factors that prevented us from keeping you. Specific events.”
“Like what?”
He considers my question carefully. “The fact that you were human. The only time humans can find a pocket are during three specific times of the year, but you found a rogue one.”
“But I stepped in a fairy hole,” I remember.
Malakar snorts. “I’d like to kick a fairy in the hole.”
Aamon snickers but quickly mashes his lips together when Ciaran casts them both a sharp glower.
“Fairy ring,” Ciaran corrects. “Fairies have their own teleportation magic, and are one of our closest allies.”
“So, why couldn’t I stay with you?” I ask. “I would think he’d want to keep me so he could use me to get free.”
“That’s not how it works. You need to accept. There’s a process. Consent needs to be given. You have to let him in willingly.”
“That’s another thing I don’t understand. Let him in where? Like in my body? Is he going to possess me?”
“These are all things you should talk to Father about, Rina,” he says.
“What if he lies?” I voice the fear before I can stop myself.
His features soften as he brushes his lips over the tip of my nose.
“He was devastated when you had to leave, Rina. He stood by the pocket you came through every day for hours just in case you returned. Because of you, he rewrote our rules. Made it illegal for us to hurt humans. He issued laws to protect the pockets and guard any humans that came through until they could be sent back safely. He would never lie to you.”
“But why couldn’t I stay?” I repeat.
“Because some piece of shit snitched,” Malakar grinds out through his teeth. “I don’t care what anyone says. I fucking know someone went to the Demiurge.”
“We don’t know that,” Ciaran barks.
“How else would they know about her?” Malakar growls, throwing his arms wide. “We never traveled and we were with her when she went out.”
“They are Gods. They don’t need to be told anything. They would have known the second she stepped into Chthonia.”
“But it took them a year to ‘intervene’?” The word intervene is spat out with mocking outrage. “Probably wanted to wait until they can properly torture Father by taking her away. Sick fucks.”
“Mal, enough.” The warning in Ciaran’s voice is enough to silence him. “This is not the time.”
Malakar looks on the verge of saying fuck it and continuing, but he swallows it down and slumps back against the armrest.
“No one would have gone against Father,” Aamon states gently. “And everyone loved Rina. There would have been no reason to betray—”
“Both of you stop,” Ciaran cuts in. “If there was a betrayer in our midst, Father would have already found them.”
The two fall into a reluctant silence.
I wait for a heartbeat before repeating my question.
“Because the Demiurge learned that you were with us. It’s forbidden to keep a human. It goes against the treaty. It would start a war. We kept you for as long as we could but once they became involved, we couldn’t risk your safety.”
“Funny that the Fae can keep their humans,” Malakar interjects sharply. “Can drug them and chain them up like slaves.”
“Malakar!”
“How is it fair?” he roars back. “We kept one human. Our human. She was ours. Father’s bride that she entered into willingly. But they can keep hundreds and turn them into mindless zombies, but that’s okay.”
I feel Ciaran’s chest rise and fall with his attempts to keep calm. “The Fae are none of our concern. To keep Rina safe, we did what was right.”
Quietly, I slip my hand free of the blanket and reach for Malakar’s. I thread our fingers together and give a squeeze, pulling his attention to me.
But I don’t know what to tell him. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say that would make up for the pain and rage he’s feeling.
“It’s not fair,” he repeats, calmer. “We lost years with you because of a technicality.”
“But I’m here now, right?” I point out, offering him a slight smile.
His shoulders lift with his gulping inhale of air. He blows it out before bringing my fingers to his lips.
“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to yell.”
I can’t be angry with him. Any of them. I had no memory of our time together. I managed to live a blissfully ignorant life while they had to wait for me to remember them. I can only imagine his hurt.
“How long were we together?” I ask instead, settling my head against Ciaran’s shoulder.
His lips graze my brow. “Time works differently in Chthonia. A few hours here could be months over there.”
I try to remember how long I was away from the picnic. The entire group had been searching for me. There was still enough daylight that we could resume the gathering, but late enough that we packed up not long after.
“Mom said I was gone several hours,” I remember, struggling with the exact timeframe.
“We had you for almost a year,” Malakar murmurs. “Then you were gone and nothing felt right. The entire kingdom felt empty.”
“We get to finally take you home now,” Aamon says a little too sharply, like he’s trying to remind all of us that those days are over. “You’ll be back where you belong.”
Ciaran tips my face up with a gentle nudge of my chin. “What will it be, little one? Will you come home with us?”
I peer from him to Malakar and settle on Aamon’s hopeful expression with my heart breaking in my ribcage.
“I can’t.”