Chapter 19 Sadaré #3
That’s enough for him. He moves toward me with powerful strides, ripping aside his robes to free himself.
No, ripping them off, but I don’t have long to admire the stunning, statuesque contours of his body before he reaches me.
With barely any pause, he seizes my hip with one hand and guides himself with the other, thrusting into me in one fluid motion—sheathing himself up to the hilt.
Pleasure explodes through my core, making me gasp aloud and clench around his thickness hungrily, even as I grip the armrest to stay upright.
The stretch of him fills me with an ache that his fingers couldn’t satisfy, one I haven’t felt since…
well, I can’t remember when. His next thrust knocks any thoughts out of my head, slamming into me so hard I have to brace myself against the back of the throne.
The force of him is so intense that I can hardly breathe to cry out.
His next thrusts punctuate his own low growl. “My—gods—you—feel—exquisite.”
It’s all I can do to hold on. My arms shake under his impacts, which stoke the fire inside me like a bellows breathing heat into a forge. Just when I feel like I might combust, he suddenly stops and spins us around. He seats himself on the throne, pulling me down with him, pinned to his lap.
He breathes into my ear, biting my lobe. “I’m going to make you work for what you want.”
Knowing what he desires, I plant my arms on either side of us to straddle his lap on folded knees, the both of us looking out at the room.
I arch back into his chest and ride his length with sinuous motions.
Each time I dip down it’s a glorious release followed by a burst of pleasure—and then a struggle to rise as my thighs begin to burn.
“That’s right. Fuck me like the good girl you are.
” He reaches around to stroke between my legs, while his other hand snakes up to find my throat, squeezing.
Sparks dance before my eyes. The lightness of my head lets the heat in my core rise faster than ever, especially with his fingers to stoke it, almost like flames are licking up through me and into the night sky that is my view of the dark ceiling.
Pumping up and down, my thighs shaking, I desperately hope my legs can hold out long enough for either of us—but especially him.
When he starts thrusting his hips off the throne with enough force to jounce me atop him in a new rhythm, I know he’s close.
But I am, too. His pounding tempo increases, and his finger circles my center faster and faster.
Right as I’m at the edge, he drops his hand from my neck to pinch my nipple.
Blood rushes to my head, and waves of heat and pleasure potent enough to make me scream consume me.
Just in time—he groans through his teeth and goes rigid as a board beneath me.
I collapse back against him, gasping for breath. His own chest rises and falls like the swell of the sea, and I let myself drift upon him for a while in my daze.
When his hand starts tracing my breast with a delicate finger, spiraling around my nipple, I shudder anew, clenching around him hard enough to make him grunt.
“Well done.”
I flush warm at his praise, almost forgetting there was another reason I wanted to do this beyond earning his approval.
His growl rumbles like thunder in his chest. “But I’m not done.”
“What—” I start. He came; I know he did. I can feel the excess moisture between my legs.
Then again, he is a god.
His body responds like a rising storm. His thighs flex beneath me as he sits up, but instead of letting me slide off him, he pulls my hips back hard, piercing me to my core once more and making me gasp.
And yet, he doesn’t stay there. His fingers reach around front to hook inside me, replacing his length as he slides out, and when I moan in protest and try to see what he’s doing, he takes a fistful of my hair and leans me forward, lifting my backside partially off his lap.
I can feel the hard, wet tip of him of seeking farther back, stopping when he finds what he wants, pressing into the tightest of places.
My fingers dig into the armrests as the rest of me freezes. “I can’t.”
“You can, and you will.” He spits, and it hits my low back, dripping down into the cleft of my backside and onto him where we meet.
When he rubs it along his length, I can hear that it’s no ordinary saliva, but something more like fragrant oil.
“I was already wet enough from you, but this will help.”
I can’t help but refuse him entrance, even though he’s slick and smooth. My body won’t relax.
He tips his head forward to whisper, “When I told you that you could be nothing like my wife, I mean it as a compliment. You belong here. She didn’t.”
Apparently, those were the words I needed to hear.
I begin to soften against him when he waits patiently but insistently, his fist still in my hair, his other hand cupping my core, holding me pinned above him.
Ever so slowly, panting, stopping, starting again, shaking, I sink onto his length until I’m all the way down, flush with his lap. Utterly speared.
He releases my hair to pet my head in a long caress as I take heaving breaths, my head tipping back against his shoulder as I arch against the pressure inside me. Expanding it.
“Good girl,” he whispers in my ear. “See? You belong to me.” He groans in pleasure, and any restraint in his voice unravels. “You belong with me.”
It’s difficult to argue like this, not that I want to. With his fingers still hooked around my front, he’s possessing all of me. I’ve never felt so full. So satiated. He’s on his throne, where he belongs… and I’m where I belong.
No, that’s not right, I think, but his hand seizes my neck once more, squeezing all thought from my head as he shifts his hips beneath me—the world shifting beneath me with him as the axis, stars spinning across my vision. And then it’s impossible for me to see how we weren’t made for each other.
“Now. Again,” he commands.
HE CRADLES ME IN HIS arms for a long time afterward, both of us still on the throne, though he wrapped me in one of the black silk robes I left behind without even fetching it. I appreciate the softness against my skin, since every bit of me is sore.
Even my heart is, despite being full.
He said I belong with him. Not only to him. And yet, I’m still just a mortal. Even if I can’t change that, he has to value me more than that.
Something nags at me. Something about divinity and the collar, but I don’t know what it is, so I push it away.
I have the seed, and now to prepare the ground for planting it.
I look up at him shyly, toying with the front of his own robe that he materialized for himself.
“You said I belong with you. I know I belong to you, and I always will. But will I ever truly be by your side, or will you always set me apart with this?” I tip my head to show him the collar.
“Forcing me to remain so far beneath you?”
His eyes immediately darken, and his arms tense around me. “You want to be free.” His voice has sunk to the lowest and deadliest of depths, just like that.
I force down my fear and shake my head earnestly.
“I want to be your wife. How can you not know this? I’ve given you everything, and I’ll keep giving it.
I understand I don’t have divine blood, and I’ll never be fully worthy—but I’ll always be willing.
I’ll always be here. And I want to serve you at your side—as your queen. Still subject to you, but only you.”
I don’t expect him to agree now—not until I’ve made my move. I’m only giving him the idea to ponder.
“Why do you want this?” he asks slowly.
“I need to know I mean something to you.” I hold his eyes. “Because to me you mean more than I ever thought possible. I think… no, I know I’m falling in love with you.”
I don’t expect him to reciprocate. I don’t even know if he’s capable of loving me. But he needs to hear me say it, now when his defenses are at their lowest after what we just shared. For a long moment, he doesn’t answer. Only stares at me. Searching for the lie.
But I’m not lying.
Finally he whispers, “How can you not know that you mean something to me?” He runs his finger along my cheek.
His expression cracks, and something tender leaks out.
Something vulnerable. “You also mean more to me than I ever thought possible. I haven’t wanted to admit it, and yet sitting here with you like this, I can no longer deny it.
But do you truly want to be my queen?” His hand falls, and his expression shutters.
“Or do you only want to escape back to Daesra? He’s almost here, you know. He’s coming for you.”
I gasp as the name echoes through me. I’m no less surprised than if he’d smacked me across the face. Daesra, Daesra, Daesra. The most important name in my life and death.
Daesra is coming for me.
The thought unlocks something inside of me, and hope breaks free in my chest like the sunrise over a dark horizon—a brightness Isha can no doubt see in my face.
I can’t hide it, or pretend it’s something else, like the last time I remembered Daesra.
If I thought my budding feelings for Isha were intense, this is a firestorm.
Isha witnesses everything the name ignites in me, and I don’t even try to snuff it out.
The sound of Daesra’s name sings through me, and the light of my love for him blinds me—all my devious plans forgotten.
And yet I don’t need them anymore. Because he’s here. Daesra is here, in the underworld.
He’s coming for me.
I leap up from Isha’s lap, staggering back from the throne, staring at him in shock.
Only his gaze follows me—undeniable pain in his eyes, though his voice is flat. “I had a suspicion. I hoped you’d finally forgotten him, but your desire to be my queen sounded too good to be true. Was it all a lie?”
Was it all a lie? Daesra once screamed at me in the maze. Or did I scream it at him?