Chapter 5 – Medusa
MEDUSA
Fucking Fates and their fucking sick senses of humor!
I smirk at the thought, because the Fates have got to have their bored hands in this mess. Who else could’ve created this insane scenario?
I’m Medusa. A powerful being capable of turning almost anyone and anything to stone… but not gargoyles. The bastards are immune to me.
And gargoyles? They’re supposed to be gone. Vanished from this modern world.
So, all I can think is those three beastly ladies decided to have a good laugh and brought these assholes to my door. The perfect kidnappers for this monster. And, of course, they’re hot as fuck. And I’m insanely horny.
None of this is cool. Not cool at all.
The next time I see them, I’m going to give those Fates a piece of my mind. But until then, I just need to figure out what the hell is going on. And what this gargoyle has in store for me.
We’ve been flying through an entire day and night.
Byron doesn’t seem to mind, but I’m hungry, thirsty, and tired of pressing against his hard erection.
It would be so damned easy to use him to get myself off.
I’m so damned ready to have his big length inside of me that I’m leaking, and I feel so fucking swollen, it’s ridiculous.
But I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s turning me on too.
Because I swear this guy has come three times since we started flying. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe, like he said, it’s just the turbulence, but his pants are wet, and it’s not just from me.
His hands on my ass are so close to my heated core that it’s driving me crazy, but sometimes he starts to move me against him, press me against him, and I feel the muscles in his body tense. The third time I watched his face, and he looked like a man coming. An angry man, but a man all the same.
Suddenly, we start to fly lower.
“Are we landing?” I ask.
He ignores me, which he has done for the last day.
It irks me.
As the wind starts to slam against us harder and harder, I begin to bounce against his dick again. His hands tighten on my ass, and I hope I’m making him frustrated, because my treacherous body is heating up again.
When we land beneath an apple tree, he doesn’t release me for a long minute.
I look up at him, and he has the most tortured expression I’ve ever seen on a man.
His eyes are dark, aroused. When his gaze moves to my lips, my breathing increases, and I feel my nipples harden against his chest. He’s going to kiss me.
I know it. He'll kiss me, and then we’ll fuck like wild animals on this hilltop.
I can't believe it when he pulls my cuffed arms from around his neck and puts my legs down. My legs give out and I sink to the ground, unable to get my balance with my hands cuffed. The jackass doesn’t bother to help me up. He just takes several steps back.
“That,” he points to an apple tree, “is breakfast, lunch, and dinner, so eat up. And that,” he points to a river nearby, “is your water for the day. And if you need to use the bathroom, find a bush. We take off again in twenty.”
Without another word, he spins and stomps off.
I glare at his retreating back. If I had any idea where we are, I would have made a break for it.
Instead, I sigh and find a tall bush where I can use the bathroom.
Afterwards, I wash my hands and stumble back to the tree, tired but not too tired to eat.
It takes some doing with my hands cuffed, but I pick a handful of apples. My hunger had started to fade, but as soon as I take a bite, it rushes back, hard and fast. The apples won’t be enough—I need protein, dammit—but I eat as much as I can anyway. Enough to sate my hunger. For now.
Immediate needs taken care of, I start to relax, but I find myself aching for a nice bath, to clean off a day of sweat and filth from my skin. And, as much as I hate it, to ease my arousal in the cool waters.
I glance around myself, but the gargoyle Byron is nowhere to be found.
The way Byron acts, I doubt he would come looking for me by the river’s edge without announcing himself.
I walk along the edge of the river until I find a little inlet.
I unbutton my shirt, but then stop short when I realize I can’t take it fully off with my cuffs. Dammit!
I sit on the edge of the river and sink in as far as I can without getting the shirt wet.
Once I brace myself, I start to wash. First, I splash my face, and I brush water through my hair to pull it back from my face.
Finally, I slide my hands down my breasts, where my nipples are hardened into nubs, and down my stomach until I reach my hot core.
It couldn’t hurt anything…
Looking around again, I listen closely until I’m sure I’m alone. When I don't hear anything, I slip my hand into my folds. I know it won’t take long. My frustrations have built up to a ridiculous point. All I need is a couple strokes, and I’ll be there.
Closing my eyes, I slide my fingers along my sensitive nerves, eager for my release. I move faster and faster, gasping for breath. I’m so close. So damn close.
Water sprinkles on my face.
My eyes fly open, and I’m staring face-to-face with a male water nymph. He’s damned handsome, with eyes the color of the river, and dark blue hair. I already know he’s a nymph of lust, because his gaze is fixed on where my fingers are buried inside myself.
Nymphs of lust are harmless, so I raise a brow. “Did you come to watch?”
His full lips curve into a smile. “I was watching. I came to join in.”
I think of Byron and feel strangely guilty. “Sorry, big boy, but you’ll have to be satisfied with watching.”
His gaze moves over my body. He’s hovering right over me, braced so he’s not touching me, but I can tell what he’s thinking. It’d take nothing at all for him to lie down on top of me and slip right inside.
Unfortunately for him, I won’t allow it.
“Why are your hands bound?”
I stare at my chained hands and shrug. “I’m a prisoner.”
He leans closer to me, so that his mouth is hovering just over mine. “Would you like to be my prisoner?”
Suddenly, he’s yanked off of me.
I look up and see Byron, his face wild. He slams a fist into the face of nymph, and then punches him again, and again. The nymph is slim and half the size of Byron. If he keeps this up, he’ll do some serious damage.
I scramble out of the water and grab the big gargoyle’s arm. “Stop it right now!”
His eyes are still wild. His gaze moves over my bare body, and I blush, grabbing the sides of my shirt to close it; hiding myself from view.
To my surprise, that pisses him off more. He punches the nymph again, then grabs me and throws me over his shoulder.
I bang my chained fists against his back. “I’m wet! And practically naked!”
“You didn’t mind him seeing you!” he roars.
I’m so shocked by his response I don’t even know what to say.
He doesn't put me down until he reaches the apple tree and then he slams me against the trunk. I gape at him, completely unsure what he’s planning.
His gaze moves to the shirt hanging open on my frame. He reaches out, and everything within me awakens, waiting for his touch.
It never happens. He buttons the shirt, one button at a time, starting at the top. His fingers slide against my skin as he does so. When he gets to the last button, his hand brushes my core, and damn it, I’m ready to have him inside of me.
Instead, he leans down and pulls my arms back around his neck.
My legs wrap around his waist, and he moves out from beneath the branches of the tree. I have no idea why he’s so angry, but he says nothing for a long time.
Regardless of what he says—or doesn't say—his hard erection presses against me for the entirety of our trip.