Chapter Thirty-Two Zephyra #2
I come undone. To the feel of him, the sound of his voice, the brand of his words.
He chuckles darkly, and I ride the high of it—ride his fingers—until my breathing eases.
I smooth my hand over his scalp. Gentler this time.
He glances up at me, greed and lust hot in his gaze. He’s gorgeous. He’s devastating. He’s—
Mine, I think suddenly.
He tilts his head back to nip at my fingers, and a shallow laugh spills from me as my legs quake with aftershocks from the world’s best orgasm.
He slides his fingers out of me slowly. I try not to pay attention to the mess I’ve made on the floor, but his gaze snags on it, and he growls.
“Fucking sexy as shit. You’re incredible. ”
He teases my nipple once more before removing his hand. Leaving me cold and trembling against the post. Though, his gaze doesn’t leave me.
I swallow hard, wondering what we do now. How do we go back to being… whatever we were? That was the best sex of my life, and it was just some foreplay in a darkening cabin. How do we go back to being enemies, or strangers, or even friends, when his fingers are dripping with me?
Clearing my throat, I muster up the ability to say, “Thank you. For… that. It was—”
He arches a brow. “While I appreciate your gratitude, we’re not done here, Zephyra.”
My stomach swoops low. Lower still as he leans back on his heels to peel off his shirt and reveal those massive muscles.
Taut and tan and mouthwatering. The silvered cord lashes around his middle, glowing brighter and brighter as his hands fall to his belt.
I lick my lips, and even though I just came—I immediately crave more.
Debate dropping to my own knees, pushing him down, and taking his cock in my mouth.
His gaze snaps to mine as if he can hear my every thought, and he undoes his belt slowly.
The clink of metal against leather makes my core pulse with longing.
I stare at his hands, his dick, his face, as if I can manifest them on me. In me.
“You’re greedy,” he says.
I shrug, though the movement feels shaky and awkward, and let my skirt drop to the floor. He stares at the torn cotton with wild eyes. “And you’re not?”
He looks back at me and stands. Rips off his belt. Unbuttons his pants. Goddess help me. I could come just from this. Just from watching him. What the Fathoms is happening to me? He said I’ve undone him, but he’s wrecked me. Ruined me completely.
I will never be the same after this.
“Of course I’m greedy. I’m fucking starved for you,” he says.
“You think I’ve waited this long to simply touch you?
You think this is all I have planned? Not even fucking close.
” He undresses, leaving himself entirely naked for the very first time.
And fuck me—it’s a sight to behold. He’s a wall of muscle and strength, and his cock is easily eleven inches.
If not more. He definitely wasn’t exaggerating, which would infuriate me under any other circumstances.
He could be a statue, crafted by the gods themselves to mimic divine perfection. No—crafted in Mortem’s image. And though even days ago, the thought might have sickened me, I know him now. He is not Mortem. He is just Arion.
And he’s here. With me.
His voice darkens. His tone turns rough with demands.
“You’re going to lie down, Zephyra, and I’m going to spread those beautiful legs.
I’m going to taste every inch of that pretty pussy.
I’m going to make you come in my mouth, and then I’m going to flip you over, and I’m going to fuck you.
That’s what you asked for, isn’t it? That’s what you begged for?
I’m going to fuck you until you come. Until you think you might never stop coming.
I’m going to make you wish you never had legs, mermaid.
” He fists his cock, stroking the thick base as his gaze sears through mine. Precum beads from the tip.
Shit, shit, shit.
This is too much.
This is nowhere near enough.
He prowls forward, all warlock, and I have never felt smaller or weaker in my life.
I don’t dislike the feeling, however. It’s satisfying in a strange way.
I trust Arion with my body. I trust him to use it.
I trust him to control this. I reach up and touch his cheek while my other hand drifts lower, lower, and he claims my lips with a devouring kiss.
He takes my hand in his own and uses it to stroke his cock.
“Like this,” he says, teaching me how he wants to be touched.
“Nice and slow. I’m going to take my time with you. ”
I savor the silken feel of him. So wide I can hardly wrap my fingers around it. “I’m afraid to say this in case it inflates your ego even more, but you are… huge, Arion.”
He grins, though the light doesn’t quite reach his molten gaze. “Part of becoming a warlock,” he says plainly. Without pain or remorse. “Surgical enchantments. They take away our ability to have children, and they make our dicks massive.”
My stomach turns at that. My fingers stiffen, and I try to step back, but he captures my wrist and holds it steady. “It’s okay, Zephyra. I want to make you feel good.”
“And you can… feel it?” I ask, brushing a lock of hair from his brow.
He laughs. “Yes, I can feel it. I can feel you right now. Do you want me to write you a sonnet about how fucking good your hand feels? Because I will. There is nothing in this world like your touch, Zephyra. I dream about it. Every fucking night. Every time I close my fucking eyes. There, look—” He gestures to the cord between us, so bright now the room is painted in a kaleidoscope of iridescent rainbows.
He steps farther into my touch, and I grip him tighter.
His muscles ripple with pleasure. “I want you more than I’ve wanted anything in my entire life. I need you. Now, lie the fuck down.”
I stroke him faster, reveling in his shallow, quick breaths. “But I want to make you feel good.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t you listen? We’ll get to me.
First, I’m going to feast.” He tips my chin up, kissing me until both our lips threaten to bruise.
I savor every taste of him, the touch of his tongue, the burn of the cord between us.
The way he cups my breasts, explores my body, slides his fingers into my hair as if he can’t get enough of any part of me.
It’s intoxicating. I forget myself entirely.
On the sharp descent of a gasp, I whisper, “Don’t—”
Instantly, he hesitates. He stops. “What?”
“Don’t be gentle,” I say in a breathless rush. “I like… I like when it hurts. The pain gets me off. If you’re comfortable with it—”
“I’m comfortable.” He smirks. The most powerful warlock in the world. His raging cock presses hard into my belly. “So long as you understand that I like you.”
My stomach clenches. My whole body clenches.
His smirk widens, and his eyes spark with mischief and sex. Wet, filthy sex. “Because I’m going to fuck you like I hate you, Zephyra.”
I grin at that. “I’d love to see you try, warlock.”
He hoists me easily in his arms before laying me in a blue silk hammock, moving my hair from beneath me and yanking me to the very edge.
The world swings uneasily beneath me, but now the sensation of flying doesn’t make me feel ill.
It makes me feel alive. He splays my legs wide, hands on my thighs in a punishing grip that makes me see stars again.
His nails cut across my skin as he lowers himself between my legs and drags his tongue over my cunt.
Again. Again. Teasing movements to make me squirm and whine and beg—which I do. Of course I do.
“More,” I plead.
His dark laugh echoes around us. He softly palms my breast before he pinches it.
Hard. My back bows off the hammock as he bites my clit at the same time.
Then he sucks it into his mouth and starts fucking me with his fingers again.
Rougher. Messier. He swirls his tongue around my clit, and his fingers curl, and he reaches up to seize my throat.
Not hard enough to choke me, just hard enough to hurt.
“Holy fuck,” I breathe, unable to comprehend any of this. Unable to comprehend just how good this feels.
I scream, and in the next second, he throws himself on top of me to swallow the sound. The hammock rocks beneath his sudden weight, and the world begins to spin, but he kisses me. Soothes me with his fingers. Holds me steady as another orgasm crashes through me. Around me.
“That’s twice,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Shall we try for five, mermaid?” He slides one, two, three fingers inside me, and I whimper.
“Or maybe seven? How hungry are you, Zephyra? How much can you take?” He says it like a challenge, but if this is a competition, I’ve lost sight of the rules.
Goddess, I know what the prize is—it’s him. It’s Arion.
“Please,” I hiss, and that’s all it takes for him to drag me off the hammock. He lies down and lowers me onto his face. His tongue slides inside me, and I curse. I scream. After a few minutes of the sweetest torture, I shatter again.
“Three,” he counts before flipping me over, onto my back—just as he promised—and slamming inside me. He’s not gentle. He doesn’t take his time. Because he knows I want that. Because he knows me.
I see you, Zephyra. The worst parts and the best parts.
If I thought his hands and mouth were good, his cock is… more. So much fucking more. He fills me exquisitely, stretching me beyond belief until I feel him everywhere. Goddess. I never want to forget this.
I never want this to end.
This—it’s the accumulation of a thousand moments, seconds and minutes and hours shared between us. Between two people who should have never met. Who shouldn’t be anything but strangers, if not outright enemies.