Chapter 16
Sorrow
Her body slams against his. The force knocks their mouths against one another, furious sounds belting off their tongues and then engulfed by the mist like a filthy secret.
As if this place won’t tell a soul what’s about to happen, the mayhem they’re about to cause one another, because they just don’t know when the fuck to quit.
Sorrow’s tits mash against Envy’s torso, her nipples tightening into his pecs.
Beneath the surface, their pelvises strike together, the abrasion pulling a whine from her lips.
Her clit taps his long cock, the friction assaulting her in a way it hasn’t before.
Silken and weightless. Despite their physical history, they’ve never railed each other in the water.
As her labia skates across the bridge of his dick, a groan crawls from Envy’s throat.
The predatory noise flares Sorrow’s skin with goosebumps, and the walls of her cunt pulsate, liquid seeping from the crease.
Since deities have potent senses, he deciphers the difference between the pool lapping against his erection and her arousal pouring onto him.
“Fuck almighty,” Envy husks, clasping her ass, tacking her pussy to his cock. “You’re soaked more than this pool.”
“And you’re harder than stone,” Sorrow pants. “So who wins?”
“Hmm. To find that out, we’d need to get a lot closer.” His voice crackles across her flesh like static. “You hate me, you say? Then do it, my nymph. Hate me hard.”
Clamping onto her backside, he jerks Sorrow into him. From the brunt, an insubordinate sound jumps off her tongue. It’s something between a whine and a growl, needy and resistant. But while that makes no sense, neither has anything he’s ever made her feel.
With serpentine motions, Envy rows Sorrow back and forth, reeling her pussy against his standing cock. “Hate me so much, it makes you come.”
Another rickety sound leaps from her mouth, and her fingers dig into the trunk balancing them. The pride god has pounded her in every way but this. Languid. Lethargic. As lazy and sensuous as this pool, with the cascades washing around them.
Despite his aggressive hold, Envy takes his time, pacing her hips, lulling her into him.
He tows her cunt sinuously along his cock, guiding her from his balls to the wide crown, the gliding motions enabling her to feel every inch of them rubbing together.
In tandem, moans trip from Sorrow’s mouth, which falls open in astonishment.
Envy’s dick bloats further, expanding her soaked groove. He rocks her gently into him, his attention riveted on her, the challenge flashing in his irises.
Try resisting this. Try breaking it off. Try it hard.
Sorrow gives a low, stunned cry when his tip hits a place that throws tingles up her spine.
Fluid licks her skin, the balmy air varnishing her breasts and his torso, rendering every movement sleeker.
Desire floods from her core, the flux pouring onto Envy’s erection, every leisurely drag of her pussy smearing him to the base.
The god hums. Locking their hips, he gyrates into motion, rolling his waist up and down.
Matching her tempo, he synchronizes every slow beat, heightening the abrasion.
His cock and her pussy slip and slide, swaying to and from one another.
This produces a ripple effect, the eddies trembling, which accentuates the pleasure.
Yet the teasing is too much, far too much. Pressure grabs her cunt, the result gushing from her slit. Sorrow bites her lower lip until the taste of brine seeps into her palate.
With a famished hiss, Envy leans into her and draws his tongue across her mouth, consuming the blood like wine. At the flavor, a satisfied purr curls from him. Oh, he knows what she’s trying to do.
To push her limits, Envy changes angles. Groping Sorrow’s ass, he raises her slightly off his lap, then sinks her down, altering the direction of their thrusts. This lowers her clit along his cock, blasting her with embers.
“Oh,” she keens. “Oh, gods.”
“Fuck, yes,” he mutters, watching her, always watching her. “That’s it. Hate me good.”
But when he says this, he means it differently, indicating a drawn-out, torturous kind of fuckery. That makes it new and unfamiliar, as though they’ve never done a single, carnal thing to one another. As if this is the first time.
And damn this motherfucker. Sorrow fights to keep it in, but loses that battle, a long-suffering moan dropping from her mouth like a plea for mercy. Her forehead lands against his, her muscles going limp, helpless as he takes over.
Relishing this window of dominance, Envy croons with triumph. He bobs Sorrow in place, rhythmically sketching her pussy up and down the front of his cock, from the roof to his heavy sac.
Oh. Fucking. Fates.
Somehow, her listless posture intensifies the stimulation.
Her cleft softens, accentuating every pass of his erection.
Easing the muscles of her pussy ratchets up the stimulation in a pivotal way, enhancing sensitivity like voltage, the tension augmenting worse than before.
Like this, Sorrow absorbs each brush of movement, each long track of his cock, its height and width sweeping in the trench of her thighs.
Yielding should make her feel submissive, no better than one of his defenseless and shallow admirers.
But instead of powerlessness, Envy’s haggard response imbues Sorrow with authority.
His knuckles bend, gripping her firmer, territorial yet drastic, as though he fears she’ll change her mind and end this, as though he can’t stand the notion.
From the beholden way he clings, Sorrow isn’t being feeble.
No, she’s being generous. She’s letting this god service her needs, allowing him the privilege.
Even so, Sorrow’s undiluted cries contradict her. To her own ears, she’s delirious, out of control.
Only this time, it’s not just an even exchange. Rather, it’s shared. Instead of one figure giving in, they’re both plunging down that hill.
Needless to say, it’s a delayed fall from grace.
Patient. Seductive. All the things he’s attempted with her in the past, all the things she’s denied him out of misguided self-preservation.
It’s clear now, her prior choice to shrug off foreplay had been foolish.
She’d been doing herself a disservice by not exploring.
This whole time, they could have rutted in this provocative manner eons ago. It’s not as if Sorrow had lacked the fortitude to resist any residual aftereffects, emotions like fondness. Sensuality wouldn’t have weakened her. She wouldn’t have grown attached. Definitely not.
Just like she’s not about to get attached now. They’ve merely tumbled off the wagon, drunk on one another, too intoxicated to see straight.
And fine. One more round won’t kill them.
“Someday, you’re going to kill me,” Envy grits out, allegedly reading her mind.
Another moan spills from Sorrow, as easily as her cunt spills onto him. “You’re assuming this will happen again.”
“Won’t it?”
“Fuck, no.”
He chuckles through his groan, that gruff baritone too sexy for his own good. “I do fancy a challenge. But if that declaration is true, you’re enjoying this more than you should.”
“And you’re relishing this more than you deserve,” she throws back, her words ending on a yelp as the roof of his cock taps her oval just so.
“Tsk, tsk,” Envy pants, his frame swatting against her own. “Never tamper with a pride god’s sense of entitlement.”
“Only because pride gods don’t know how to earn what they want.”
His pupils blacken like mine shafts, their depths immeasurable. “Is that a fact?”
Uh-oh. That glossy, bottomless look means business.
Envy’s silken threat dances into the balmy night air. “Then I’ll just have to fucking prove you wrong.”
His prowess sufficiently questioned, he fastens onto Sorrow’s backside and exaggerates their movements. Slower but steadier. With affronted vigor, he rolls into her, putting his entire physique into the effort, his whipcord torso flexing.
An aggrieved cry detonates from Sorrow, the calamitous noise traveling far, feasibly reaching uncharted dimensions.
He steers her atop his dick, boosting her above him, siphoning Sorrow’s cunt along his crown, the flared head rubbing, stroking.
Magnetic charges streak from her calves to her clit, neither delicate, nor tender.
On the contrary, the tingles are sharp, the pressure thick.
This god might as well have plugged her into a socket and amped up the wattage.
And Stars eternal. This is what it feels like to blend pain with pleasure.
The hybrid sensations assault Sorrow’s consciousness. However unwelcome, this epiphany rouses her to another zenith, as mind-bending as a psychedelic. It’s the most exquisite form of torment, splicing agony with ecstasy.
Sorrow wants him to lay into her the way he always has. Faster, harder, rougher. Yet she also wants nothing of the sort, wants him to keep pacing this, keep drawing out the slow-motion anarchy.
The sinuous pump of Envy’s ass has Sorrow spiraling, his dick on the verge of plying her cunt apart and pitching deeply.
Temptation scorches her flesh. His erection and her crease are too close to one another, on the brink of attaching.
It would scarcely require Sorrow to angle herself forward, then lower onto him, the radius of his cock splitting her in two.
That’s all it would take to crack her in half. That’s all it would take to ruin them.
Too intimate. At this focused, unhurried rate it would be far too intimate.
Everything about their motions is intentional, fixated, enduring.
It’s a harsh and dedicated type of feverishness that can’t go further.
Because if it does, they’ll smash through a dangerous boundary from which they can’t return.
They won’t just hurt and repel each other. They’ll disappoint each other.
The former is nothing new. The latter is not.
Someday, you’re going to kill me.