Chapter 11
The Earth Shook
The words echo around my tiny kitchen.
I’m getting my throne back.
Hex really just said that. How is this my life? How is anything like this, anything to do with my life? It doesn’t make sense.
There is a prince in my kitchen. A prince who wants his throne back. A prince who needs to feed on me so he has enough power to do such princely things.
I take a deep breath. Okay, time to focus on the practicalities. The logistics, if you will. This may be a lot, and out of my league, but my part in it is very small and remarkably straightforward.
It’s no different from the Prime Minister walking into Coffeelicious. I still just need to make the latte. Except I’m the latte. Which is actually easier if you think about it. Nothing at all to get stressed about.
“Right!” I say as I slap my thigh, because for some reason I’ve suddenly become incredibly British. Even more British than I actually am. It must be the stress.
I cough awkwardly. “I guess you need feeding, then. Feeding, feeding. Not…” I trail off and gesture at the table. “Curry.” I finish lamely.
A grin spreads across Hex’s face. A deeply unnerving one. One that seems to light up the room despite the fact he is a shadow.
“Are you inviting me to your bed, My Love?”
Great. First his grin lights up the room, now my blush is providing the heating.
“Um… yes. But I need to shower first!”
With that dazzlingly sexy and witty reply, I turn on my heels and flee.
In the shower, I give myself a stern talking-to.
“Keep it together, Adam,” I tell the white tiles. The white tiles that are in desperate need of regrouting. It’s been on my to-do list forever. Maybe today is the day, that way I won’t have to leave the bathroom and face Hex after my profoundly epic prat-ness.
I sigh heavily. It’s a terrible idea. Not the least because I don’t have any grout.
Besides, it’s fine. For some deeply inexplicable reason, Hex doesn’t seem to mind that I can be a complete prat.
He doesn’t grimace when I’m being awkward.
No, he isn’t reasonable like that. Every time I’m being an idiot, he finds it adorable.
Endearing. As if my distinct lack of cool is an attractive quality.
He really isn’t from this world.
Or maybe he just has to put up with me because he needs what only I can give him.
I turn the water off, wrap a towel around my waist, and leave the bathroom.
The kitchen is dark and empty. Illuminated softly by the streetlight streaming through the window. The dishes have been done, and the table and counters wiped down.
My eyebrows rise. Wow. Amazing sex and he does the dishes? Maybe he has been a figment of my imagination all along?
I shake my head. No, Hex is very real. Whatever else I might be uncertain of, I’m certain of that.
I pad down the hallway. The living room is also dark and empty. I open the door to the bedroom. It’s empty and dark. Silent. Where is he?
Oh no. Please don’t tell me I actually scared him off by offering myself as dessert.
My gaze drops down. Down to a pair of glowing red eyes under the bed.
I yelp and jump approximately six feet in the air. I cover my chest with my hand in an effort to keep my heart roughly where it is supposed to be. My leap of fright seems to have dislodged my towel, and now I’m awkwardly holding it in place with my other hand.
“What the hell are you doing!” I exclaim.
“Reminiscing,” says Hex calmly.
As if lurking under beds is totally normal behaviour. Which I know it is for shadow beings, but still, it’s a lot. And not something I expect from a being that has reached adulthood.
I suck in a breath and try to compose myself.
He pours out from under the bed. There is no other way to describe it. Thick, black shadows billowing and then reforming into Hex, standing in front of me. All ridiculously tall, and stupidly good hair and criminal bone structure and flirtatious smile and smouldering eyes.
“You scared the crap out of me!” I wheeze, because I’m not going to let him distract me.
He inclines his head. “My deepest apologies.”
I frown. I don’t think he is sorry at all. I think he is amused. I’m pretty sure he finds it hilarious. Because that is what he is like. Chaotic and unrepentantly gleeful. It’s insufferable.
“Allow me to make it up to you.” He glides forward. Closer to me.
My heart starts racing for entirely different reasons. I suppose an apology wouldn’t go entirely amiss.
Hex smirks. He glides even closer. Right up to me. Close enough that the chill of him is brushing against my naked chest.
I shiver. My nipples pebble. Goosebumps dance along my skin. The towel drops to the floor with a dull thud. I don’t even think about reaching for it.
His lips brush against mine and my mind melts. Hex is kissing me and every single one of my brain cells gives up. I don’t blame them. It’s entirely forgivable.
Time ceases to exist. Reality becomes fluid. Even gravity no longer knows what it is doing.
Hex is the only thing that makes sense. His touch. His caresses. The pleasure he is coaxing out of my body. The desire he is igniting in my soul. The lust he is flooding my veins with.
I surrender to it fully. Embrace it with open arms and allow it to take me far away.
I’ve never experienced this before. This ability to trust. To let go. To fall apart while having utter faith that I will be caught.
I am in Hex’s arms, and that is the same thing as being safe.
After a long while, I’m able to make sense of things again. Sensations can be identified and named. Awareness can coexist with the mind-numbing euphoria.
Slowly, I start to categorise the various sources of the joy that is consuming me.
Hex’s lips are sealed over mine, still kissing me deeply. Pleasure is also sparking from my ass. It feels like Hex is stuffing me with at least three fingers, and drawing soft circles over my prostate. It also feels like a soft, shadowy hand is gliding up and down my cock.
But I’m pressed against the wall and my legs are wrapped around his waist, so I’m not sure how anything I’m feeling fits together and is anatomically possible. But then again, Hex is literally a shadow, so I guess flexibility is one of the perks.
Suddenly, his fingers curl, and I stop questioning and go right back to enjoying. I rock my hips shamelessly and cling onto him eagerly.
My orgasm starts to rise up. Almost gently. Coaxed out of me with tenderness and care. It rises and rises and then finally, inevitably, it spills over.
I’m moaning and groaning right into Hex’s mouth, and he is greedily drinking every noise I make down.
The orgasm rolls on and on. My hips are thrusting. My cock is spurting. My muscles are locking and contracting.
It begins to recede. Then Hex bumps my prostate and my orgasm flares back to life.
I wail into his mouth. He drinks the sound down so absolutely that nothing echoes around the room.
The bedroom is silent. No slapping flesh, no grunts, no squelch.
Just silence. Quiet, when my ecstasy feels big enough to fill galaxies.
My orgasm starts to wane. Hex presses down on my prostate again. Fireworks explode behind my eyes, my pleasure is renewed and my orgasm revives with vigour.
We go on and on like this, Hex refusing to allow my orgasm to fade, until the pleasure skims over to pain and my throat is sore from my silent screams. Every single inch of me is unbearably oversensitive.
He shudders. He groans. The wall behind me shakes. Dust falls from the ceiling. The floor creaks ominously.
He exhales. His shoulders relax. His fingers pull out of my ass. His hand leaves my cock.
Finally, his lips leave mine.
He is still holding me up against the wall, and I don’t mind at all.
I suck in a deep lungful of oxygen. Then I sag. Every muscle and bone I possess has turned into wet noodles. My head drops forward and rests on Hex’s shoulder. I’m glad he is solid enough to support me.
I’m exhausted. Sated. Blissed out and fucked out. It’s wonderful. Everything feels golden and bright.
“Even more delicious than last time, thank you, My Love,” Hex rumbles, and I feel the vibrations of his words in my chest. Shivering all the way through me.
I mumble something incoherent. My eyes are drooping. I hope he is gentleman enough to carry me to bed, because I’m really not sure I can walk. In fact, I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to walk again. My legs might now permanently be jelly.
“I think thrice more before dawn should suffice,” Hex says.
I blink. I slowly process. My heart starts to pick up pace. My spent cock gives a valiant twitch.
Did he really just say three more times? Three. More. Times. Has he forgotten I’m human?
What the actual fuck?
Cool lips brush over my neck. I shiver. He nuzzles. Soft. Gentle. Full of care and devotion.
A whimper escapes me. My cock twitches again. Excitement and anticipation begin to swirl in my belly.
Sod it. I might die. But what a way to go.