Chapter 35 #3
She groaned under her breath, her fingers continuing to circle, but her rhythm faltered. Her arousal was stuttering, sparking and dying out again.
“Should’ve gone upstairs and grabbed my vibrator,” she muttered.
A soft movement stirred behind her. Splice’s hand brushed her shoulder, sweeping her hair gently over one side. The warmth of him moved close, a solid line at her back. His breath teased the shell of her ear just before his lips touched the curve of her neck.
“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice low and steady, full of something fierce and tender all at once. “Tell me what you need. How can I help?”
Goldie drew in a shaky breath, eyelids fluttering shut. His touch steadied her, gave her something to hold onto.
“I… can you touch me? Maybe talk a little dirty to me?” Her laugh wobbled out, awkward and breathless. “Gods, the only time I had a threesome was in college, and we were all blind drunk, and I honestly don’t remember much except—”
Her words broke off in a hiss as Splice’s hand slid down the front of her dress, slipping deftly beneath the fabric as his fingers sought her skin.
He traced a slow, intoxicating line over the curve of her breast, and then nudged beneath her bra for a tender, deliberate squeeze.
Her back arched against him, a sharp gasp tumbling out as his mouth found her ear, teeth grazing and nipping.
At the same time, the Thornfather’s vast hand shifted, his fingers curling more firmly around her thigh. The pressure was grounding, heavy, pinning her in place even as the heat inside her flared brighter, stoked by their combined touch.
Goldie whimpered, her fingers slipping between her thighs again, finding the swollen heat building there. She circled slowly, deliberately, breath coming fast as the awkwardness fell away, replaced by the electric thrill of being touched, held, wanted by both of them.
Splice’s lips brushed her ear, his tongue flicking over the shell with wicked intent as his hand rolled and teased her nipple, catching it gently between his fingers.
The god’s fingers twitched in turn, stroking the soft skin of her inner thigh, just enough movement to make her sex clench, desperate and wet, a molten pulse crashing through her.
“My fierce little witch,” Splice murmured, voice low and reverent, roughened with awe. “So brave. Offering yourself for him.” His teeth grazed her earlobe. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”
His hands moved with sudden purpose, deftly tugging at the clasp of her bra beneath her dress.
A sharp click and it gave, loosened. In the next breath, he dragged the sleeves from her shoulders, peeling her top down her arms. The fabric fell in a silken rustle, baring her to the humid air of the atrium.
Goldie gasped, instinctively raising her arms to help him strip her down, heart hammering at the exposure.
Splice’s palm returned, sliding over the curve of her bare breast. He kneaded slowly, then caught her nipple between his fingers and rolled.
A shudder wracked her body as the bud hardened instantly, her head tipping back against him.
Soft moans broke from her throat, sharp and helpless, every nerve sparking under his touch.
Her breath quickened, chest rising in sharp, unsteady pulls as her heart thundered with the fire building inside her.
Her fingers returned to her core, more frantic now.
She was drenched, slick and needy, the tension coiling tighter with every brush of touch, every strand of magic twining between her, the god, and his graft.
The Thornfather’s vast hand stirred. Slowly, deliberately, his rough fingers slid higher, gliding up the length of her thigh to the soft curls guarding her heat. Goldie froze, breath catching, every muscle taut with anticipation.
Then he touched her. One bark-textured finger, impossibly careful for its size, slid through her slick folds. The contrast of raw power and delicate precision as he stroked was staggering; it felt like being opened and held by the earth itself.
Pleasure jolted through her, sharp and shuddering. Her spine arched and a strangled gasp tore from her throat. The magic running under her skin flared bright and wild, sparks racing along her nerves until she trembled.
A low murmur rose from the god, resonant and deep, vibrating through her bones. “The water of life,” Mycor rasped, his words coherent for the first time. “You nourish me.”
Goldie whimpered, hips twitching helplessly against his massive hand, slick heat spreading under his careful strokes. Splice’s grip tightened at her waist, steadying her, grounding her even as the god’s fingers explored further, slow and sure, the rhythm building with every breath.
“You’re radiant like this,” Splice murmured, voice rough with awe. “Beautiful. Shining.”
Her breath caught, sharp and uneven, as Mycor’s finger pressed into her soaked center. A startled cry broke from her throat, hips jerking forward even as she arched back into Splice’s chest.
The god moved slowly, his finger curling deep inside her with deliberate grace. Goldie’s vision flared white when he brushed that hidden place within her, pleasure detonating through her core. She gasped, ragged and raw, her walls fluttering tight around him, clenching greedily with each motion.
Her thighs trembled, barely able to hold her as Mycor’s thumb slid under her fingers to claim her clit and begin circling. His touch dragged broken whimpers from her lips, her hips twitching helplessly into his hand.
“Do you like this, Goldie?” Splice whispered into her ear. “His touch, deep inside you, opening you?”
She whimpered, nodding. “Yes. Gods, yes—please.”
Splice’s fingers grazed her breast, pinching her nipple with deliberate care. “Then tell him. Let him feel how much you want this.”
Her moan cracked into words, spilling hot and frantic. “More—more. Don’t stop, don’t—”
Her hips rolled against the Thornfather’s hand, chasing each deliberate curl of his finger, grinding down against his thumb.
She looked down, and saw Mycor’s eyes halfway open. His gaze burned into hers, a god’s hunger lit with tenderness. “You blossom,” he intoned.
The god’s curled inside her with unerring precision until she was writhing. Then, another thick digit joined the first, stretching her wider, fuller, until her body clenched tight in greedy surrender.
Splice’s hand slid lower, covering hers and the Thornfather’s massive thumb, and beginning to roll over her clit in tandem with the god’s touch. Goldie’s head fell back against Splice’s shoulder, panting, helpless. Her thighs shook violently, slick arousal dripping down her skin.
She was so close—every nerve strung taut, every tremor pulling her higher—but something in her held tight, a final thread of resistance coiled at the core of her.
Splice’s voice was a guttural growl. “Let go, Goldie. Let him feel all of you.”
Her body obeyed before her mind could catch up. She arched with a strangled cry, back bowing, the orgasm ripping through her like the earth itself cracking open. Pleasure detonated deep in her core and flooded outward, raw and endless, so powerful it felt like worship and ruin all at once.
Her walls spasmed around the god’s fingers, milking him, clutching tight as if she could hold on forever.
Heat poured through her, and with it, a wild, golden essence.
It stretched from her into Mycor, his bark glowing faintly as his body drank.
Another current leapt into Splice where his body pressed against hers, the vines along his arms shivering to life, their tips blooming in half-open flowers.
Goldie broke, gushing wetness over the Thornfather’s hand. She gasped, shattered and radiant, clinging to consciousness by a thread.
Splice groaned into her neck. “You’re extraordinary,” he breathed, feral and reverent at once. “Look what you’re giving us.”
The Thornfather’s rumble followed, low and resonant, vibrating through her bones.
With a sound like roots ripping free of stone, he began to rise.
Slowly, laboriously, his massive body unfurled from where it sprawled.
Each movement was a ragged, burning effort, but beneath the sickness there was something fierce, alive.
Bark creaked, vines strained, and still he lifted, bracing himself on an elbow, then on one arm, until his vast torso loomed upright before her.
“Golden one,” the Thornfather rumbled, his voice the strongest she had ever heard it. “I feel you in every pulse, in every breath.”
Goldie’s thighs trembled, still shaking from the force of her release but already slick again with need. Splice’s fingers didn’t stop, circling her clit with slow, sinful pressure that kept her caught in the shimmer between afterglow and rising hunger.
Goldie’s breath caught, chest heaving, as the god’s heavy gaze found hers. It was like drowning in a storm, like being dragged under into depths that had no end. His large hand rose and cupped beneath her jaw, drawing her eyes up to meet his.
“I wish to sow you.”
Goldie’s breath hitched. Her gaze dropped, and desire struck like lightning. His cock had risen, massive and unmistakably ready. Glowing vines coiled along the thick length like worshipful adornment, pulsing with ancient light. Her mouth went dry. And wet. And dry again.
Lust flooded Goldie’s veins, hot and greedy. She quivered, every nerve alight, but a flicker of hesitation broke through the haze. She turned her head, whispering against the press of Splice’s lips at her ear. “Splice?”
He kept stroking her, fingers circling her clit with maddening patience. But at her tone he stilled, just for a beat.
“Are you really okay with this?” she asked, breathless, trembling.
“Yes.” His voice was low, steady, and scorching against her skin. “Take him. Take my god between your thighs.” He squeezed her breast hard enough to draw a gasp. Then softer, more fragile, “But I’m here, Goldie. I’m here with you.”