Chapter 17 #2
The sorceress pads up the beach, squinting when she approaches the area where her dress once lay. Her neck swivels rapidly, scanning the beach for the thief. Her hair whips with her movements, spraying water in every direction.
I choke down a laugh. Her annoyance is palpable, something I’ve evidenced when the green of her eyes darkens and allows the blue to shine. It is no docile blue, however. It is the vicious blue of the sea before a storm, warning of impending danger.
Finally, I chuckle, alerting her to my presence.
“Are you going to cower behind those rocks, or will you come out and face me?” she taunts, and my cock stiffens at the fire in her voice.
I step around the rocks, one hand in my pocket and the other holding her dress.
She presses her lips together, fighting a smile. “I should have known this was your doing.”
“Oh? What gave me away?”
She slinks towards me, her smile growing. “They call you the Father of Lies, the Wicked One.” She inches closer, and it takes every ounce of my willpower to keep my eyes from straying lower.
“The Foul Fiend,” she continues, closer now, so close, I could reach out and caress the beckoning shadow between her legs.
The sorceress finally halts her advance, our bodies nearly flush. She looks up at me through long, dark lashes, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. All the blood in my head rushes south. “Who better to steal an innocent woman’s gown while she swims than the Devil himself?”
My answering smile is laced with depravity. “You forgot one.”
She quirks a brow. I lean down to kill the distance between our mouths.
“Old Nick.” My answer almost falls on her lips.
Her stunning eyes light with interest and something like shock. She closes the remaining distance between our bodies, and her breasts brush against the thin material of my shirt. I lose the battle, and my gaze falls exactly where she intended.
The sorceress releases a breathy laugh. “I thought you kingly types held more resolve than that.”
I bring my eyes to hers and lick my lips, my blood roaring as she tracks the movement. “I am the Devil, sorceress. More beast than man, but I am still a man.”
“And what would a man do in this situation?”
“A man—a good man—would avert his eyes and hand you your dress.”
“And yet you’ve done neither.”
When my gaze once again falls lower, this time to the space between her legs, she says, “What would a beast do in this situation?”
The answer leaves my lips in a sensual growl. “Ravish you.”
She comes up on her toes, her lips sending a shuddering jolt down my spine when they lick my ear. “Then show me the beast.”
The words barely leave her mouth before I steal them with my own, my lips sealing over hers in a possessive claiming that pulls a low moan from her throat.
That heady timbre sends blood rushing straight to my already pulsing cock, and my tongue finds the seams of her lips, demanding entry.
A groan crawls from deep within my chest when her mouth parts, and she grants me that opening, pulling my bottom lip between her teeth and drawing blood like the Hell Beast she is.
Winding my fist in her hair, I arch her neck back, licking and sucking my way down the column of her throat. Her hands grip my shirt in desperation, shredding it to tatters, and I momentarily wonder how sharp her nails are before a torrent of water pools around our ankles.
Fuck. High tide is coming, and I don’t have enough time to do everything I’d wanted to do to her, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have her in a different way.
I release my hold on her hair, taking a moment to meet her gaze. Her eyes are wild with lust and that strange yearning, and for once, I won’t ask her to say my name. I won’t ask again until it’s my cock buried inside her and the only way I’ll allow her to come is if she screams it.
Instead, I take her wrist and guide her towards the cave. Her gaze travels downward, widening at the unmistakable bulge in my pants. She nibbles on her lower lip, mouth practically salivating at the sight of my length hardening for her.
“Do you like seeing how hard I am for you?”
“Yes,” she replies breathlessly.
“Good.” I tug her further into the cave, where the shadows meet in darkened corners.
The last glimpse of the suns peak above the horizon, as though they want to be privy to our triste.
It allows for a sliver of golden spears to penetrate, giving us just enough light so I can see every slope and dip and curve of her.
“Show me how wet you are,” I command, my voice gravelly. “I want to see what my touch does to you before I feast.”
She releases a low gasp, then trails her fingers indolently down the smooth plane of her stomach, and I watch, unable to move, frozen, as though I’ve been petrified by Medusa’s gaze. Her fingers graze lower before they disappear between her legs.
The whimper that escapes her lips should be bottled and sold as an intoxicating elixir. I’d drink in the sounds she makes during pleasure every fucking night until I drowned in them.
Her stunning eyes close, and she bites down hard on her bottom lip, her hand starting to pump at a steady rhythm.
“Ah,” I softly scold, catching the offending wrist. “I didn’t tell you to ride your fingers. I asked you to show me.”
With my grip still on her wrist, she slides her fingers from between her legs. Holding my stare, she presents two beautifully slicked fingers in front of my face.
I don’t think, I react, taking both of those fingers in my mouth so I can taste her.
And I’m a fucking goner.
Dropping to the floor, I pull her on top of me. She straddles me with soft yelp, and I let out a resounding fuck at the feel of her bare pussy rubbing against my cock.
But my thoughts are consumed with tasting her, and I can hear water rushing towards us. I’ve waited too long to take her how I wish, and I’ll be damned if the fucking tides force to me to fuck her faster than I have planned.
“Sit on my face,” I tell her, panting with desire.
“Wh-what?”
“Sit on my fucking face.”
Her hesitation is both adorable and surprising, and I watch with narrowed eyes as she slowly crawls up my body, stopping so the apex of her thighs is just below my chin.
I can’t help the snarky grin that graces my mouth. “Don’t tell me your lover never let you ride his face?”
Her mouth twists, as though she is again suppressing a smile. “Not exactly.”
My smile grows. “So this would be a first for you?”
She nods.
The beast within me roars at claiming something of her firsts, something the phantom can never have.
Grabbing her ass with both hands, I haul her directly over my face. “Sit.”
She lowers herself at a snail’s pace.
“Sorceress, I cannot die, and even if I could, being smothered by your cunt would be my ideal way to perish.” With that, I force her hips down, and the taste of her explodes on my tongue as it spears her drenched core.
Her back arches as she cries out, her hands finding purchase on the rock wall in front of her.
I am relentless in my feast, licking and sucking without coming up for air, consumed by the taste of her. She falls into a rhythm, her hips rocking along with every stroke of my tongue and the pressure of my mouth, catapulting her own pleasure forward as she grinds her pussy against my face.
And fuck, what a pussy it is. I could die here, buried beneath her, and I would do so happily. An unsettling thought emerges that I’ve had that same thought before, in a different time, different place.
But that cannot be.
So, I turn my focus back to my sorceress, digging my fingers into her hips, urging her to move faster as my tongue moves from her clit back inside her.
She throws her head back and bites her lip, her moans mixed with screams as I bring her closer to that glorious edge.
I notice the harder my fingers dig, the more painful it appears, the harder she moans.
So, I unsheathe my claws, letting them pierce her skin, and sure enough, she removes her hands from the wall and cups her breasts.
I force her hips to rock faster, harder, and then, she screams.
“Oh, gods, N—”
She quickly bites down on her hand, as if to smother the word about to escape. But she’s coming all over my face, and I’m drinking her in, lapping up every drop of her like a man dying of thirst.
An image flashes in my mind, one I’m sure does not belong to me, and yet…
it feels natural. I’m on my knees, lapping up the essence of a woman the same way I am now.
A black dress is pushed over her thighs, and we are in some sort of small alcove.
The woman is unknown to me, but one thing I know for certain—
She tastes just like her.
The sorceress slumps towards the wall, resting her forearms against the rock so she won’t fall forward.
Still gripping her hips, I lift her off and slide out from under her, wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her up.
I hand her her dress, and she nods a thank you as she steps into the gown, brushing sand from her legs as she does so.
I don’t bother with the sand covering my entire body. I’m too busy staring at her, a chill sweeping over me at the somber realization I’ve been ignoring a crucial piece of information that has been blatant since the first night I kissed her.
I know her. I’ve known her long before she stepped foot in my kingdom, and yet, my memories of her are non-existent, and I need to find out why.
More importantly, I need to find out why she was about to scream that fucker’s name instead of mine.