Chapter 21
Envy
He freezes. With his fingers primed inside her and the dildo pressed to her clit, Envy drops back to earth, the muscles of his face slackening from rapture to bafflement.
Is this resilient goddess fucking weeping?
He reels back, snapping upright from between her split thighs. Sorrow’s shoulders tremble, and she flings an arm over her eyes. Tears drip through the star flecks beneath her lashes, drip past her temples, and vanish into her hair.
The sight punches Envy square in the face.
Thunderstruck, he loses his mental footing and takes a nosedive from the heavens.
Like an idiot, he’s clearly done something wrong.
Although she’s hardly the delicate type, unlikely to chip like porcelain, he must have hurt Sorrow.
Considering she can take the harshest of blows, the damage has to be dire.
Fuck. Envy can’t recall an incident in which he’s lost control with his conquests. But then, he’d been so lost in Sorrow’s moans, caught up in the undertow of them, who knows where the devil he messed up.
As it is, he was a goner the moment he found Sorrow in the dark, her silhouette filling out that cotton robe—his bright idea of a gift—with her loose hair and peaceful expression.
The flannel sleepwear had become endearing on this goddess, but that mantle? And her quiet profile angled toward the vista? And the blue tinting her stardusted eyes?
She had looked nothing short of breathtaking.
Deities can ingest substances beyond that of humans.
Seconds before that moment, Envy had just finished chugging the twelfth glass of cabernet, which he’d prayed to The Stars would finally knock him the fuck out.
Anything to blot the image of her sleeping in one of his chambers, her body stretching like a buffet across the bed, in reaching distance, so bloody near.
Anything to deflate the raging hard-on this visual had produced. As if he’s ever been so lucky.
That’s when he saw her. The robe he’d designed with Sorrow in mind. The hint of color threading across her lashes. By Fates, the glass had slipped from his grasp, and his tongue had unspooled like a red carpet.
Then she’d whipped toward him and opened her mouth. And so had he. Envy’s ribs must be nearly healed, because he hadn’t felt a sliver of pain since that moment.
Her jibes. That chase. This boat.
Her neck. Her rapid pulse. The orgasms.
Envy had been so hung up on her disjointed cries of pleasure, so drunk on them he almost levitated like an incubus.
Up until that point, he’d never touched Sorrow with erotic patience, nor begged permission to.
He hadn’t so much as beheld the beautifully soaked slit between her legs, because in the past they’d been too busy getting the job done, getting their clothes out of the way, and getting to the main event in record time.
Yet tonight, he’d discovered the satin cinch of her pussy and the succulent taste of her clit. The effects had acted like generators to his pulse, in addition to his throbbing cock, blasting both into overdrive.
It’s never been like this with anyone. He’s never made a lover sob through the aftermath.
Envy lurches upright, his stomach curdling. As her drenched cunt contracts around his knuckles, he fixates helplessly on her stricken features.
Was he just that good at making her come? Or that bad?
Self-consciousness wrings him out like a towel. Concern spurs him to withdraw his fingers from Sorrow’s tight grip, then hoist her off the deck and strap her in his arms. She doesn’t resist, her tear-streaked face landing against his chest as he clasps her there.
Sorrow climbs onto his lap, twining her legs around his waist as if he’s a nest. She cries like she mocks, like she owns it.
This brave goddess doesn’t wail but drains herself freely, accepting the sensations without fear.
To her, tears are nothing to be ashamed of.
They don’t make her weak or fragile. Rather, they turn her into the truest and strongest deity he’s ever known.
When the noises subside, Envy speaks into her scalp, marginally terrified of how she’ll reply. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m j-just overwhelmed,” she hiccups.
“Will it help if I say you’re not alone there?”
“I don’t cry.”
Incredibly, this moment is a blend of painful and pleasurable. He can’t help the pride of knowing she needs him, that his embrace gives her the slightest measure of comfort. On the other hand, he wants to slay himself for making her weep.
Bliss. Anguish. Solace.
Somehow, he’s incited all three in less than an hour. And he doesn’t know how to feel about any of it.
But as much as Envy could get used to Sorrow crushed in his arms, he boosts her chin and levels her face toward his. “You can cry all you want in front of me.” He swipes a tear with his thumb. “In every way.”
She matches his position, cupping his face and studying it. “I think… so can you.”
The words chisel through a crevice in his chest.
What The Fates is happening to them? What is this?
The boat coasts on its own. Stars and cliffs rise over the fern trees, banked by clouds as sheer as organdy.
They need to laugh. Right this instant, they need to lighten the mood.
“So, you’re seduce-able.” Envy quirks his eyebrows. “And I’ve still got it.”
Sorrow blurts out a watery laugh. “Bragger.”
“You’re worth bragging about.”
“Do I really intimidate you?”
What’s the use? She’s already ruined him ten thousand times over.
Her wet pussy rests on his thighs, slathering the pants and bloating his cock to epic proportions. At the same time, those dried tears have his sternum trapped in a vise grip.
Envy would feast on her cunt for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert.
Then he’d go back for seconds. He would make her come again, and again, and again.
If she desired it, he would draw out the climaxes until she’s wetter than the sea, and her throat is raw from shrieking, her octave rattling The Stars.
Yet she needs something different from him now. Something he’s less experienced in providing.
Do I really intimidate you?
Envy closes her robe, hiding all that edible skin and tying the sash. “You always have,” he murmurs, forcing himself to meet those silver eyes. “My most embarrassing moment was with you.”
It’s her turn to freeze. “You’re lying.”
“I’d call it denial. Does that count?”
“What do you mean, it was with me?” She veers back. “Tell me or go to hell.”
“According to Malice, the weather is reportedly fantastic in hell.”
“Malice is a part-time lunatic.”
Her astonished glare refuses to let Envy off the hook.
A three thousand year-old sigh of resignation blows from his lungs.
“You were the only one I ever failed to impress. Even Love, who wanted to ram her fist into my face on numerous occasions. Even she caved once or twice, forgiving my sly remarks.” He swipes a lock of hair from Sorrow’s cheek.
“But not you. The reigning Goddess of Sorrow intimidated me, every scowl whittled down my vanity, every judgement reducing my confidence to nothing. Then one day, I experienced my most embarrassing moment in your illustrious company. Full transparency, I’ve been jealous of you ever since. ”
“That’s impossible!” she protests.
“Oh, lucky me. I’ve gone and felt an impossible thing.”
“You know what I mean,” Sorrow amends, allowing him to catch her hands and lace their fingers together. “When did it happen? What did I do to you?”
Envy stares at Sorrow until her pupils widen. “You can’t be serious.”
“Can’t I? I’m glad you cleared that up for me.”
“We were young. We hadn’t even come of age yet!”
An ugly god is easy to spot.
He slides her closer. Those marvelous thighs open farther around his hips, her breasts rest on his pecs, and their breathing syncs.
“Adolescent memories with sharp edges fuck us up. Lately, I wonder—and really, I should verify this with Wonder—whether I haven’t been jealous about anything else since that day, because I’m still triggered by the first time.
I’ve based an extensive life on a small moment.
” His palms sneak into the enticing gap of her robe and cup Sorrow’s bare ass, her skin pebbling against his palms. “I can’t resist comparing myself to everything you say and do, stacking myself up against it. ”
Sorrow’s eyelids hood as he traces her hipbones, then the dip of her tailbone before returning to her backside. “I don’t know what to say,” she admits.
Envy leans in, the rush of her breath making his cock and heart jump in tandem.
“Don’t try,” he mouths against her lips.
“I’d rather leave you speechless. If it helps, I’m starting to enjoy being jealous of you, being intimidated by you, being inundated by you, being offended by you.
So perhaps you started showing me pain a long time ago. ”
Her head lags backward when he grazes her shoulder blades with his fingernails. “Maybe you started showing me pleasure a long time ago too. Except not like this.”
The boat rocks, knocking her clit against his pants.
Envy’s dick responds, the crown lurching to the hemisphere, as it had until she’d started weeping.
“If that’s true, we’ve been building to a crescendo,” he intones, nipping the soft concave under her earlobe.
“I tried, but I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to fucking stop. ”
“Neither do I,” she utters.
A victorious groan scrolls from his throat. So that’s it. Pleasure and pain.
All the way. All or nothing.
In a flash, Sorrow’s back where she started, flattened beneath him. And he’s back where he started, hovering above her, his hips spanning between her thighs, about to get himself into a heap of sinful trouble.
“Good,” he husks, bracing her arms above her head. “Now, stay down. You’re not done coming yet.”
***
His mouth brings her to orgasm for a second time, then a third time, his tongue working her to a glorious chant.
His name, his name. Fuck yes, his name.