by Evie Kent
His plaything.
I’d never felt more the part than right this moment, as he steered me over his face—and locked an arm around my waist.
Legs forced open, knees on either side of his head, he had a perfect view of everything I’d been hiding away under this stupid white dress. The fire in my gut exploded, sparks catching throughout my body, the worst of it flaming across my face.
The arm snaked around my hips trapped me in place, immoveable even when I pinched and hit and twisted out the little auburn hairs. Distracted with that, I’d all but forgotten about his other hand, free to rove wherever it wished, and suddenly it wished to shoot right up my dress. I squeaked at the first contact of his palm over my belly, squirming and wriggling over his face, over his laughing mouth that tickled my thighs with every breath. Goose bumps ripped across my skin, my nipples pebbling almost painfully when his hand brushed up my torso and between the valley of my breasts.
Fear and excitement bled together inside me, a sickening combination that made my heart race and my mind hazy.
And my pussy… wet.
Ohgodohgodohgodohgod—no.
“Let me go,” I whispered, my words strained, panicked as I slapped at his arms and wriggled uselessly against him. “Loki, stop, just let me go—”
“No,” he growled back, his mouth brushing my thigh. Dark desire dripped from that one word, powerful enough to make me shiver. Heat flared inside me again, the fire burning brighter, more dangerous, threatening to consume every part of me.
This was wrong.
Wrong to be turned on by a man—a god—forcing me to…
I squirmed harder, then let out a frustrated scream that bounced off the walls and slammed back into us like the cruelest taunt. No one can hear you. No one is coming to get you.
His tongue swept the length of my sex, hot as the fire burning inside me, and I whimpered at my body’s response—the surge of need, like his mouth was the key, the fucking password to my pleasure. Little lights flickered to life in my mind’s eye, like the start-up of some massive computer, all from a single flick of his tongue. The fairy lights around us dimmed, but still I fought him.
I just… I had to fight.
Loki plucked at my nipples, one then the other, making them harder beneath my dress, and I grabbed at his wrist through the fabric.
“S-stop,” I hissed. “You can’t—”
My protests died when his silver tongue found my clit, swirling around it, flicking across it, playing me like I was made for him. The hand under my dress shot up, skimming my chest, fingers delving into the hollow of my throat like he wanted to bruise me before they coiled around my neck. Snug as a collar, a choke chain that would tighten in my struggles but loosen in my surrender, his hand took hold of me confidently. Gripped firm. Steered me forward just enough to spread my thighs farther, put a little arch in my lower back, open me up for him like a flower in bloom.
And then he had me. Simple as that. Licked me, nibbled at my thighs, fucked me with his tongue until I was a panting, whimpering mess on top of him. I still fought, but pleasure sapped the strength from my limbs, made me weak in my core. He held firm, refusing me even a breath of movement, his grasp unyielding. I could only adjust myself if he did it for me, and he seemed to like me just where I was, straddling his face so that he could plunder me at his leisure.
I hated it—hated him, hated the way my body responded to his touch. The physical attraction had always been there, but I shouldn’t melt against his mouth, shouldn’t wiggle and twitch with pleasure, shouldn’t have to fight this hard to not ride his fucking face all the way to an orgasm that would have me seeing stars.
Because that was where this was headed. Despite my best efforts to think of something—literally anything—else, Loki brought me back to him time and time again. He knew just how to torment me, where to lick softly, where to apply the pressure. Even his rough hold on my hips thrilled my traitorous body, his hand collared around my neck more exciting than five years of mediocre sex with Devlin.
“F-fuck you,” I seethed, only I wasn’t sure who I was really cursing—him for forcing me into this compromising position, or me for loving the sweet heat swelling between my thighs. Teetering on the brink of oblivion, I gave it one last go, one last pathetic attempt at resisting everything he was doing to me. But I couldn’t focus, couldn’t center my mind enough to think past this. Every single one of my muscles tightened like strings pulled taut. My vision blurred to black as I clenched my eyes shut, gritted my teeth, clung to his arms instead of slapping at them.
And then the strings snapped under the pressure.
I came with a humiliating screech, my body jerking against his mouth, his attentions squarely on my clit. His hungry little groan reverberated against me, and that spurred another rush of pleasure, the fires inside gone nuclear.
That was the best—
I’d never had such a—
Fuck.
The orgasm sunk its hooks in the more he licked me, dragging out the intensity for longer than I’d ever experienced before. I could usually manage a climax with Devlin, though they were few and far between with us, and I always got off by myself. But as I splintered apart under Loki’s harsh caress, it was almost like I had never truly climaxed before in my whole goddamn life. Like this was the first time, the best time, and it had ruined me for anyone who wasn’t the god with his hand wrapped around my throat.
He shoved me deep into the black, not stopping until pleasure became pain, until he had milked a few blazing aftershocks of ecstasy out of me. Shaking, I sobbed out something incoherent, and finally his grip loosened. Coated in a sheen of sweat, I collapsed forward when he let me go—only after a sharp nip at my inner thigh, a bite hard enough to leave a bruise.
I crawled off him a destroyed woman, weak-kneed and boneless, the embers still sparking in my core. Panting, shivering, unable to form an intelligent thought if I tried, I scrambled over into a seated position, then hastily shoved my hand between my thighs, bundling my dress there—like that actually mattered anymore.
And Loki simply watched me, stretched out on his side like a cat in a sunbeam, smirking, evidence of the deed smeared around his mouth and chin.
I wanted to scream at him, call him every awful name under the sun.
I slapped him instead.
Hard.
Right across the face, the crack of skin to skin echoing through the hall.
And it fucking hurt. Pain blazed up my arm, right down to the bone, like I’d slapped a statue and not a flesh-and-blood man.
But I swallowed the ache, furious at the both of us, embarrassed beyond measure, then stood and scampered the fuck out of there, off to hide away again—somewhere dark and quiet, far from him, to collect the shards of my dignity shattered by his mouth.
Because from the way he looked at me, the wolfish glint in his eyes, the dangerous twist of his lips, if I stayed a minute longer, I’d be fucked.
Literally.
And—I might not fight it as hard as I would have an hour ago.
12
Loki
I loved sex.
Loved it.
Women, men, orgies, bound and gagged, soft and sweet, any hole, in my standard form or something else entirely—I just loved fucking. Always had.
And it was yet another piece of my life that that bitch had stolen from me when she cast the ward around this mountain, sealing a broken, bloodied, weak god inside for the rest of his days. Sex and shapeshifting—gone. At the very least, the villagers had found me after about a century, which meant eventually one of my favorite things returned. The rest would have to wait until oblivion, when the realm cracked in two, when the mountain splintered, and then maybe, just maybe, I might walk free.
Or I would be stuck even deeper, forced even farther underground, but it was an eventuality I preferred not to dwell on.
With my consorts, I could fuck again.
And after tasting Nora last night, I would fuck again
. The game was over, my patience up. She could still be surly to me, as mean as she liked, but I’d have her now—again and again, in every position possible. Here, there, and everywhere.
From the way she had screamed through a climax, spilled her desire all over my hungry mouth, she would have me too. Despise the situation, loathe my teasing, hate this mountain—she could do all that and more, but Nora Olsen desired me.
That was all I needed to push forth, to set aside the cards and the food and the courtship rituals unspoken between us—it was done. Over. Complete. It had dragged on long enough, three agonizing weeks without so much as a glimpse beneath that sacrificial gown. We had crossed a great many barriers last night, and I intended to forge ahead with tenacity, drag us both kicking and screaming into the ferocious darkness on the horizon.
I mean. What the fuck else did I have to do with my time?
The first game might be over, but the second had only just begun—and already it was far more interesting.
She had spent the night elsewhere, out of our bed and deep in the mountain, which I could hardly begrudge her. Were I a gentleman, I would already have had breakfast going, coffee brewing, eggs sizzling in the pan, and a cold glass of mango juice waiting in her usual place at the table. Instead, I leaned back against it, arms crossed, partially seated on the oak’s edge, and watched the dark doorway like a hawk. An hour had passed since her usual rising time, but I had already proven to be a patient god. I could wait all day for her, but I would fucking wait.
Another hour crept by before she surfaced, her hair wet and slicked down her neck from a swim, her flesh dry. When we’d parted ways, she had left me flushed and sweaty, evidence of our latest game smeared across the both of us. Now, Nora was clean, pristine—virginal in white. I cocked my head to the side, appraising her swiftly from top to bottom, the corners of my mouth kicking up when she paused on the top step—stumbled to a halt, more like, when she undoubtedly realized she couldn’t avoid me forever.
Her tongue swept across her full lips hurriedly as her gaze darted about. To her credit, she didn’t blush bright crimson under my relentless stare, but she fidgeted nervously, some of her confidence shattered.
Then, to my surprise, she stood a few inches taller, her posture perfect as always, and breezed into the main hall like nothing had happened. I bit back a laugh; something had very much happened, and she refused to so much as glance toward the scene of the crime.
My little consort flashed a strained smile in passing, saying nothing about the empty kitchen, the clean counters, the cold stove, and instead marched straight for the refrigerator.
“What do you want for breakfast?” she asked lightly, popping open the door and perusing the icebox’s innards like she had never seen it before—like it was so bloody fascinating. I studied every minute detail of her over my shoulder, wondering if she intended to feed me this morning, our roles suddenly reversed.
No. The creature was just making polite conversation, something else to distance us from what had happened.
And I couldn’t allow that.
Wouldn’t allow that—not when her embarrassment so delighted me.
That was why she’d slapped me, after all. A futile attempt, yes, but fueled by humiliation over the fact that she had succumbed at last.
That she had liked every little thing I’d done to her.
I can read you like a fucking book, girl.
“You, little human.” She stopped rummaging through the shelves and shot up, her head snapping in my direction, eyebrows creeping up her forehead. I pushed off the table. “I’d like to eat you.”
With a shaky breath, Nora slammed the refrigerator door shut just as the color finally plumed in her cheeks, and I prowled around the table toward her.
“I’m afraid, after last night, my tastes have become rather singular.”
She shook her head and backed away; didn’t she know that just piqued a predator’s interest? Nothing more thrilling than the chase to us higher-order beasts. But after the pleasure I’d gifted her with last night, she ought to be running to me, not from—straight into my arms for another round, for fuck’s sake.
“You…” She shook her head again, arms crossed, shoulders hunched. “You…”
“Yes, me.” I stalked toward her retreating figure, my far larger steps dwarfing her shuffling, closing the distance between us fast enough to make her blanche. “What is it, little one? Am I not handsome enough?” My hands flew to my shirt, wrenching it over my head and tossing it away. Let her see me—let her witness what she so staunchly denied herself. “Am I not beautiful enough for you?”
Annoyance prickled in my chest that she still resisted me, even now, but then I also quite enjoyed it too. Obviously I had no fucking clue what I actually wanted, but what else was new?
I hastily unbuckled my trousers and shoved them down my thighs, kicking them off with a snarl and a flash of teeth. Bare before her, I stood tall and proud, my body that of a god, what all humans lusted after—what women craved and men coveted. And still she refused me, turning in place and offering me her back instead.
“What do you want from me?” I demanded, on the prowl again, my prey the loveliest I’d ever tasted. “Do you prefer to fuck your men?”
Nora swiveled around, eyes wide, jaw dropped, and I flashed a cruel grin. At least I always knew how to get her attention—shock was such a useful tool.
“Shall I be rougher?” I hastened my pace, encroaching on her swiftly, and she matched my every step with several of her own, unwittingly steering herself toward the wall of the ramp. “Gentler? Do you fantasize about being forced? Shall I grow tits and a cunt for you? Is that preferable?” When her back collided with the stone, I pounced, trapping her in place with a hand on either side of her head, my body dominating hers, my hardening cock nudged up against the white cotton. Nora turned her head away, breathing hard, and I wrenched her back to me with a forceful hand on her chin. “Tell me what you want!”
And I would fucking give it to her, the stubborn thing—or she could just let me go on guessing. Either way, I would have her.
I. would. have. her.
Heat flared between us, bodies molded together. Tremble as she did, chest rising and falling with panicked breaths, she met my eyes defiantly, never cowering, never folding. She stared back with hellfire blazing behind those perfect greens, a forest engulfed in flames, and I had never wanted her more.
And so, at long last I made desire reality. Still gripping her firmly by the chin, I swooped down to claim her mouth for my own—only for Nora to slap at my arm and try in vain to squirm free, tucking her chin into my palm. I forced her back up, the fire in her eyes raging in my chest, and caught her lips in a hard kiss that had her gasping. Her lashes fluttered, like she was fighting to keep her eyes open, and she smacked at my arms, my sides, then kicked my shin with her little foot, her warped toes.
Alas—her moan was her undoing. Exhaling a gentle, minty breath from her nostrils, scented like the toothpaste the villagers had provided her weeks ago, Nora uttered the faintest of sounds, her mouth softening somewhat against mine. I responded with a growl, pushing in firmer, my hand twining into her damp hair and tipping her head back to accept me. The movement nudged her lips apart, but it was her tongue that sought out mine first, darting into my mouth and flicking at me. Fleetingly. Teasingly. When I chased, a predator entranced, she snapped at my lips—hard—and raked her nails up my neck.
Not gentler, then. She was fire—and I would give it to her, be the fuel to her flames.
Our kiss turned fierce fast, aggressive, the pair of us dueling for control. Nora gave as good as she got, arching up against me and twisting her fingers harshly into my hair. She was exquisite—delicious, ferocious, all that I had imagined she would be in these last three weeks. As always, my little human did not disappoint.
Cock at full mast, I skimmed my hands down her lean body, over curves and valleys that I’d only sampled last night. With her mouth fully op
en to me, tongues clashing, Nora squealed when my hands smoothed the sensitive undersides of her thighs, and I chuckled darkly into our kiss. Gripping tight, I wrenched her legs apart and hoisted her up. For the first time, she towered over me, the shift in our angles giving her the high ground. She kissed harder, fought fiercer, biting at my lips, my tongue, writhing against me, ripping at my hair when my cock nudged her core.
Until those cruel hands found my chin, cupped my jawline—and she shoved. With all her might, Nora pushed me away, gasping, trembling, tears suddenly streaking down her cheeks.
“I’m a person,” she cried hoarsely, her eyes bloodshot and her lip bleeding, “not a toy for you to play with while you pass the time in your prison cell!”
Did she realize what dangerous ground she trod—to stop a predator on the cusp of his kill? I flashed my teeth at her, panting, glaring.
Ever so slightly shaking.
Humans had always been the playthings of the gods. In every pantheon, every era, every realm, humans existed for our amusement.
But I kept that to myself, instead swiping my thumb over her swollen lower lip, wiping away the bright red droplet—then licking at it, the flick of my tongue making Nora jerk her head back into the stone. Her eyes widened. Her nostrils flared. After a brief moment of incredulous shock, she reacted, snapping like the tigress who’d just had her tail pulled by a vexing monkey.
She hit me. Slapped me—hard, again—across my face. Even in such close proximity, she lashed out, set her own boundaries with her strikes that fell like mist against my cheeks.
And I let her snarl and bare her fangs, flail against my naked body, hiss and scratch—because I so loved her fury. Intoxicating, her fire, after centuries of meek lovers and quiet companions. Exciting.
I allowed her a few really good smacks before I reminded her that I wasn’t the monkey and she wasn’t the tiger. I was the apex predator, so far beyond her that she was but a fly buzzing around my face. Without a word, I snatched her wrists and shoved them back against the wall, pinning them next to her head. Nora’s lips thinned as she bucked against me, only to still a second later, face bright red when she no doubt felt the ardent insistency of my cock nudged up between her thighs. Her dress had parted, allowing me a taste of her heat, her slickness, but I wouldn’t push in. Not yet. Not now.