Chapter Thirty-Two Zephyra #3
It’s the accumulation of a noose around my neck, my hands around his throat, both of us drowning in the deep blue.
It’s the accumulation of his furious insults and my reckless sabotage.
It’s the accumulation of Arion on his back in the middle of Crestfall, and me locked in a prison cell under his watchful eye.
It’s everything.
“That’s it, Zephyra. You take me so well.” He pulls out, running the thick tip over my drenched cunt. Teasing. Always fucking teasing me. “I knew you would. Your pussy is perfect.”
“Fuck me, Arion,” I growl, impatient, rising on my knees to glare over my shoulder at him.
He seizes my neck, pressing me into the wood floor as he lines up his cock with my perfect pussy. His hips slam forward. His cock impales me in one hard thrust. I scream and palm the wood around me. Drag my nails over the floorboards. “Shit.”
He fists a hand in my hair, yanking me upward so I’m forced to ride out his wild thrusts alongside him.
In time with him. And I do. I fucking ride him as if my life depends on it.
I writhe and buck and twist my hips, matching him thrust for thrust. He pulls my hair.
Slaps my ass so hard, I know his handprint will last long, long after this moment ends.
And when I come again, it’s to his hand wrapped around my throat as he continues fucking me with abandon, it’s to the low growl of his voice in my ear as he says, “That’s four. Do you have another in you, mermaid?”
Tears burn my eyes because I’ve never done this before. I’ve never come this much in one night before. “I don’t… don’t know,” I manage between gasps for air.
“Then I’m going to keep fucking you.” He drives into me.
Again. Again. Again. Harder. Harder. Harder.
And I scream. I can’t stop screaming. And though Arion has maintained most of his promise to not use his magic anymore, I can tell he’s silenced this room.
Simply for the fact that no one has barged inside and told me to shut the fuck up yet.
He snarls and pins my arms behind my back. “You feel so”—thrust—“fucking”—thrust—“ good.”
I have no choice but to bend to his will, to follow his rhythm, to relish the bruises he makes with his hand and fingers because I choose it. Because I want it. He kisses my cheek. My neck. Drags his tongue over my spine before biting.
And though it shouldn’t be possible, though my legs are quaking and I can hardly see through the potent haze of lust and pleasure and pain, I come. Again.
“That’s five, mermaid.” Arion sounds victorious. Sexy as fuck and victorious. He still doesn’t quit thrusting, dragging me to the brink of another explosion. “You’re fucking perfect.”
The tears in my eyes drip over my cheeks.
Onto the wood. And I can’t stop them because I am wholly out of control.
Wholly at Arion’s mercy. The salt water of my tears—of my lust and pleasure and pain—burst fissures of moonlight beneath my skin, and call forth my tail at an exceedingly inopportune moment.
Because Arion is about to remember just how imperfect I really am.
My scales appear. My legs vanish. And then I’m beneath Arion in my truest form. All mermaid. I roll over, and he braces his hands on either side of my head. His gaze drops to my scales, to the tears on my skin. And he hesitates.
“Don’t run screaming,” I say through shaky lips. “Not right now.”
His brow furrows. “Run screaming?” He removes one hand to set it on my tail. I gasp at the touch. “Now why would I do that, mermaid? I’m still not done with you.”
It’s the last thing I expect him to say. It’s the exact thing I want him to say.
Goddess, my heart aches. It hurts. For him. For the warmth in his gaze and the softness in his voice. I attempt to curl my tail inward, to make myself smaller, but he stops me. “No,” he says. “You’re here with me, Zephyra. So be here with me. I’m not running from you. I will never run from you.”
“I’m a—”
“I know exactly who you are,” he growls, “and I wouldn’t change you. Not for anything. Not for anyone.”
I want to argue. I want to tell him that he’s wrong and he doesn’t know everything yet. That once he finds out, he’ll leave. He’ll have to leave. Because I am not made for happy. Because I am made to hurt. And Arion isn’t any different from the others. From Eos or even Jacin.
He touches my chin. A brief, gentle touch. “Hey,” he murmurs. “Don’t.”
I blink wide eyes at him, forcing a grin. “What?”
“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong.
And you’re not fucking hearing me. I see your tail.
I remember the ocean in my lungs when you were drowning me.
I don’t fucking care. So be here with me because I’m choosing you.
Fuck the warlocks. Fuck Mortia. I’d even say, ‘fuck the heart’ if we didn’t need it to save our lives. ” He kisses me. Short. Brief.
Too short.
Too brief.
And that’s when I know—I’ve fallen for him.
For the man I should hate more than anyone else. For the man I’m shackled to.
For a fucking warlock.
My heart pounds between us, but if he can feel my realization through the bond, he doesn’t show it.
He doesn’t react in any way. I ache and I ache and I ache.
For him. “You didn’t come,” I say abruptly, because I can’t say anything else.
I can’t tell him I could love him. I can’t admit that if things were different, I’d choose him over anything and anyone else.
Instead, I climb up onto my elbows and lick my lips. “Will you let me taste you?”
His gaze flashes. Darkens. “If this is you changing the subject—”
“It’s not,” I hasten to say, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him into me. He doesn’t flinch away from my scales. The warmth inside me pools hotter. “Let me make you happy, Arion. After all, you just made me come five times. In a row.”
He runs his hands down my waist, over my chest, touching me everywhere. Reveling in all of me. My insides knot. The cord beams—so bright, it’s white now. Ethereal and sparkling. It paints him completely divine.
I move my hands to his shoulders and shove him so that he lands on his back.
And before he can say anything else, before he can ensnare my heart any further, I pull myself forward, lick up the length of his cock, and choke on it until he’s the one unraveling.
Until he’s groaning and cursing and breathing heavily, his hand fisted in my hair and his hips slamming his cock into the back of my throat.
“That’s it, Zephyra. Don’t you dare fucking stop.”
And then when he comes, “Mine,” he growls. “You are my fucking mermaid.”
For once, the possessiveness of the words doesn’t evoke fear or terror. For once, I really fucking like the sound of them. Because if it was my choice, Arion would be mine too. We would belong to each other.
I sink into his arms when we finish and the salt water has dried from my skin, our legs tangled and Arion combing soothing fingers through my hair, pressing soft kisses to my cheeks and neck and forehead.
Hours pass, and we lie there just like that.
As two people without another care in the world.
As two people who have a chance. As two people who might actually have a future together.
Even though that couldn’t be further from the truth.