by R. M. Walker
“Did you know that women are better at giving orgasms than men?” I ask, the expert of distraction. “I read it online.”
Fire erupts on Blaze’s hands. Fortunately, he has a fire-retardant suit on, or else he’d be hot in more ways than one.
And yes, I think I’m hilarious. I love my puns.
“For one, sweetheart,” Blaze begins, “nobody can make you orgasm like we can. And secondly, who the fuck is that asshole and why is he calling you honey?”
Reluctantly, I answer. “That’s Sheriff, and he may have a little crush on me. Seriously little. Like a micro-size penis. Not that I know what a micro-size penis looks like, but I imagine he has one. Not that I’m thinking about his penis or anything…okay, that’s a lie. I thought about it that one time, but that was purely for educational reasons.”
“Do we kill him?” I hear Stone whisper to Mas.
“No! We’re not killing the sheriff!” Realizing that my voice has risen, I hurry to lower it. “We’re not killing him.”
“Why do you care so much?” Frost asks icily. “Do you love him?”
“For the love of...no! I love you jealous assholes.” If I had a hand free, I would totally be face-palming.
“If you don’t love him, why do you care if he lives or dies?” Blaze points out, and the other three nod as if his reasoning makes perfect sense. A bunch of psychopaths, the whole lot of them.
“Are you okay, PG?” Sheriff continues anxiously.
Once again, I am the target of four furious gazes. They may have been super villains, but they sure could smolder like animated princes.
“PG?” Blaze asks in disbelief. “You guys have cute nicknames for each other now?”
“Can we talk about this later?” I hiss.
“I think we should talk about it now,” he insists. “What do you think, Frost?”
“I agree. We need to decide if we're hiding a body.”
I shake my head viciously. “No bodies are going to be hidden!”
“You’re right,” Mas says, and I sag in relief. At least one of my boyfriends has his head on straight. His next words contradict that thought. “We’ll leave the body as a warning to others. They don’t mess with what’s ours.”
Is it demented that I swooned?
Hearing that they will kill someone in my honor? My lady parts begin to tingle.
Instead of showing how they affect me, I put on an apathetic front.
“No. Killing,” I stress. “None.”
“But—” Stone begins to protest, but I cut him off with a growl.
“How many times do I have to tell you? We don’t kill police officers. And we don’t kill every man that shows me attention.”
“Every man?” Mas sneers. “As in, more than one?”
I inwardly roll my eyes. “There’s been a few…”
“A few?” Stone growls, his eyes glazing over. No doubt visualizing said guys underneath his fists.
Can people even be underneath fists? Is that a thing? Or is it between fists? Or on top of fists? Why has the correct terminology never been confirmed?
“Get up, sweetheart,” Frost says. He gently unties my hands and pulls me to my feet.
He is quite attentive... for an apparent kidnapper.
He presses a chaste kiss to my cheek, the icy sensation almost arousing, then wraps a hand around my throat. It doesn’t hurt. If we were in any other situation, I would almost get turned on.
But, of course, I’m a respectable superhero who doesn’t get wet from super villains. Absolutely not. Practically a monk.
“Get out of the way!” Frost shouts at the door. Stone kicks it open (totally showing off his strength, considering the fact that he could easily turn the doorknob), and Mas ushers us out.
I see Sheriff first, surrounded by police officers and swat team members. All of them have their guns raised.
“Don’t shoot!” I plea, tears filling my eyes. I am a damn good actress. Oscar worthy performance, right there.
“Lower your guns!” Sheriff demands. Most lower them instantly, but a few hesitate.
Mas levels them with a glare that radiates an almost incandescent fury. “Put down your guns,” he says, a hint of persuasion seeping out. A tiny bead of sweat appears on his forehead, cascading down his face. I know that his power, manipulation, takes a lot out of him. Sexual activity can help amplify it.
To clarify, that’s good for me and my vagina.
Really good.
With almost mechanical movements, the remaining officers lower their weapons, propelled by the strength of Mas’s conviction.
“You’re not going to get away with this,” Sheriff spits, eyes cataloguing my body. I would like to say that he is merely assessing me for injuries... but his eyes rest on my chest a moment longer than necessary.
Stone begins to growl low in his throat, no doubt noticing the same thing I have.
Oh god.
I try to telepathically communicate with him, furrowing my brows and narrowing my eyes.
No murder. No murder.
“Stop making that face,” Frost whispers in my ear.
“Stop making that face,” I mock in a rather impressive impersonation of his voice.
He pushes me down the hall, past the men standing vigil in the hallway. They eye us warily.
Suspiciously. I hear a few of them murmur about the “poor victim.”
I scoff.
Victim?
I am anything but a victim. I am the motherfucking Purple Goddess.
And they will all hear me roar.
The world will be sheathed in purple, mark my words.
Chapter Six
The sand is warm beneath my body, the sun bathing the beach in a soft, golden glow.
Frothing waves lap against the shoreline. The entire sight is serene. Peaceful.
“What are you smiling at?” Stone murmurs from beside me. He is sprawled out on a beach chair, a bottle of beer in his hand.
“That we got our beach vacation,” I say simply.
After we escaped the cops, Mas led us to where he had kept the money—a storage facility rented under my real name (and no, I’m not telling you what it is. Sheesh.).
I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t freak out. Or didn’t do snow angels in the pile of money.
Because, really, what normal person wouldn’t do snow angels when staring down at millions of dollars? Millions of glorious, delicious dollars.
Okay, not delicious. I tried nibbling on one, for research purposes only, but had to spit it out.
It looked better than it tasted.
It didn’t take long for Frost to procure us new IDs and passports. Blaze bought us the plane tickets.
And that's how I got my honeymoon. And sex. Lots and lots of sex. We joined the Mile High Club. And the Rocking the Boat Club. And the Break the Bed Club.
And the Fivesome club.
Good days.
The only downer is that my face is sprinkled throughout the news.
Purple Goddess Still Missing!
Fierce Four at Large!
Blah. Blah. Blah. Something is large, alright, when it comes to my men. And it isn’t their criminal status.
Sheriff had been convicted on three-counts of murder. Apparently, a body randomly appeared on his front doorstep with his fingertips all over it. Some girl named Ali. I still don’t know how my guys were able to pull off such an elaborate stunt, but what can I say? Jealousy killed the cat.. or something like that.
“We haven’t had sex on the beach yet,” I murmur, peeling open an eyelid to see Blaze smirking down at me. His red hair is tousled, as if he had run his hands through it, and his shirt is off to reveal his sculpted muscles. I ache to articulate his shoulder blades through feel alone. And his cock.
What can I say? I’m a thirsty girl.
“Aren’t you worried about the sand?” Mas asks dryly. He is lying near my feet, one hand absently massaging the arches. The feeling of his hand on me is orgasmic
. They may be super villains, but these men most definitely know how to treat a girl right.
Shrugging, I say, “My vagina is like a vacuum. I call it my Sausage Vacuum. It’s smart enough to remove sand from the sausage. We’ll be fine. And we also have my Logger Repellant to play around with.”
Cue four blank stares.
“What the fuck did she just say?” Frost asks beneath his breath.
“I don’t even care anymore,” Blaze responds, and I inwardly smirk. It’s the boobs, which look oddly good in my bikini. It’s always the boobs.
“I said—”
“Our girl just wants an orgasm,” Mas cuts in, flashing me a sultry smile.
The man ain’t wrong.
“It has been an exhausting day,” I whine. “And I need lots and lots of orgasms to survive.”
“On the beach?” Frost raises an eyebrow. “In public?”
Smiling beseechingly, I squeeze my eyelids shut.
My hand trails down my stomach, towards the waistband of my bathing suit bottoms. My other hand creeps towards my breasts. Keeping my eyes closed, I begin to stroke myself, just out of view from their hungry gazes.
Someone releases a sharp intake of breath.
My fingers find my clit, and I begin to rub myself faster. A breathless moan escapes me, but the sound is quickly caught by a pair of warm lips.
Blaze, sending tiny licks of fire down my spine and straight to my aching core.
Another hand begins to caress my calves. My thighs. My mound still obscured by the damn bathing suit bottoms. This trail is soon replaced by lips and the light scruff of a day’s old beard.
Stone expertly pulls my bottoms down with his teeth.
A second hand appears and begins to fondle my breasts. Testing the weight. Squeezing the nipple through the gauzy fabric.
I squirm, a withering mess of nerves under their ministrations.
“You like this, beautiful?” Mas purrs in my ear. I am too far gone to do anything but whine.
Blindly, my eyes still squeezed closed, I reach out and cup his rock-hard dick through his swim trunks. He hisses through his teeth, but obediently removes the dreaded fabric.
Blaze turns my head so I’m able to take Mas in my mouth. Only then do I peel open my eyelids.
As I suck off Mas, Blaze captures his lips in a burning kiss. Mas’s hands dig into the other man’s shoulders, pulling him even closer. I reach out to fondle one of his balls, and he moans deep in his throat.
Blaze, spurred on by Mas’s passionate return of his kiss, removes his own swim trunks. Mas reaches down to grab Blaze’s throbbing dick in his hand, working him in tandem to my mouth.
Someone unties the bathing suit top, freeing my heavy mounds.
The barest breath of ice erupts on my aching nipple, and I gasp at the sensation. Frost’s tongue laps at the ice with a carnal hunger that sends me reeling.
My lips still pressed tightly around Mas’s cock, I reach behind me to grab Frost’s as well. He moans against my breasts, alternating between kisses and soft tugs on my pebbled nipples.
“Oh god,” I moan from around Mas’s length. He and Blaze are still enjoying one another’s bodies, reacquainting themselves. It is a battle for dominance in their kiss, each one attempting to get the upper hand. Teeth and tongue and sultry nips on lips that make my ovaries explode.
Frost’s lips leave my breasts, and I whine at the loss of contact. It is immediately replaced by Stone’s expert tongue and large, calloused hand.
I can feel Frost’s cock at my entrance. Waiting. Always waiting. He never takes what I don’t want to give him, but right now? I need him to fuck me.
I squirm, the only invitation he needs, before his impressive length penetrates me. Sheathed inside of me, he begins to rock.
It’s slow at first, calculated almost, like the man himself.
But I don’t want slow, damnit. This is my beach sex. Another one of many locations crossed off my bucket list.
I want it primal, a voracious hunger.
Our shared lust permeants the air, only adding to our frenzy. I begin to suck Mas faster while simultaneously stroking Stone.
Blaze breaks away from Mas to smirk down at me. The asshole knows exactly what he does to me. Does to my body.
Kneeling beside me, he captures my other breast in his mouth. His tongue swirls over my aching nipple, sending fire down my spine. I reach for his length, still hard, and begin to stroke it.
I feel so complete right now. So fulfilled.
So…
Mas removes himself from my lips, and I let out a pathetic cry.
“Shhh…” he whispers soothingly. Working as one, the guys move me to an upright position.
And another hole opens up.
“Oh! I like this,” I gasp, feeling Blaze’s fingers dig into my backside. We have done double penetration a few times, and each time my heart catapults out of my chest.
My stomach is a tumultuous mix of fear and excitement.
Using my own juices, Blaze lubes up my ass.
And then he is inside me. He isn’t slow like Frost would be, or careful like Stone. He pounds inside of me with the force of a train, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to scream. The sensation of being filled to the brim, of being full, overwhelms me. Tears prick my eyes, but I can’t stop smiling.
In that moment, I feel loved and adored and wanted. Desirable.
Frost and Blaze begin to rock, finding a rhythm, and I turn my head eagerly to take Stone’s dick in my mouth. Mas, ever the opportunist, grabs my hand to wrap around his own throbbing cock.
As we move our bodies together, I can’t help but think about how much I love them. The love is almost palpable in the air, suffocating me.
Or that could be just Stone’s massive cock.
Either way, it’s a good way to go.
I can feel myself on the pinnacle, and I know I’m going to fall. Every time I fall off a cliff, these men are there to catch me. Today is no different.
My release sets off a chain reaction. Blaze comes first, panting heavily into my back, followed by Frost. Stone is next, and I swallow all of him before releasing his cock with a reluctant sigh. Mas is last, as always, spilling his seed onto my breasts.
Marking me.
Claiming me.
I am theirs, and they are mine. Nothing will change that. With them, I can embrace my darkness.
And with me, they can step into the sun.
We are a tangle of limbs as we collapse on the beach. My head finds itself on Mas’s chest while Stone rubs at my back. Blaze is above me, pressing kisses to my hair, while Frost rubs at my feet.
“I love you,” I whisper. It isn’t just an acknowledgement, but a promise. A promise to love them forever and ever, no matter how much shit is thrown our way.
Together, they reply, “I love you too.”
There are no superheroes or villains in this story. There are caveats in every aspect of nature, light and dark, good and bad, and this is no different. Our titles don’t matter. We are five people in love, braving this strange new world.
I am the Purple Goddess. And with the Fierce Four by my side, I am whole.
About the Author
Katie May has always loved writing. An avid reader herself, you can almost always find her with her nose in a book or scribbling away in her notepad. Currently, she has five books published, all reverse harem under this pen name. She resides in West Michigan with her family. If you would like to stay updated on exclusive teasers, POVS, and updates on her novels, join her Reader’s Group - Katie’s Gang!
Other Books by Katie May
Together We Fall Series:
The Darkness We Crave
The Light We Seek
The Storm We Face
The Monsters We Fight (Coming Soon)
Beyond the Shadows Series:
Gangs and Ghosts
Guns and Graveyards
The Damning Series:
Greed
Env
y (Coming Soon)
Unlikely Reaper
Lacey Carter Andersen
Copyright 2019 Lacey Carter Andersen
Editing by Melissa
1
Jules
The room’s deathly cold, the chill so deep it reaches into my chest and squeezes the empty space where my soul used to be. But what’s worse than the cold? The smell. The air’s so heavy with cleaning chemicals that my stomach turns with queasiness. But even that’s better than the fucking beeping of the machines, the maddening equipment that turn this simple human hospital into its own kind of hell.
What a terrible place to die.
“It hurts,” Lucy whispers, her lips barely moving.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” I tell the older woman, holding her hand gently.
She winces, her head thrashing from side-to-side on her bed. “I’ll be leaving soon?”
“Yes,” I lie, and the word tastes sour on my tongue.
That infernal beeping swallows me whole for one painful second, echoing louder and louder in my mind. Goose bumps erupt on my arms and my breathing quickens. I hate that damned beeping. It reminds me of when I was watching my own child die.
What the fuck is wrong with you? Focus! Don’t go down that path…
“I trust you,” the older woman says, drawing me back to the present.
I look down at her, seeing past her attempt at a smile. It's more of a grimace, really, but I don't blame her. I understand what she’s going through better than most people. I know that when the suffering gets this bad, it becomes impossible to force a smile when all they want to do is sob and beg for release from the pain.
She’s been in so much pain for so long, she's probably forgotten what it feels like not to hurt.
Mrs. Lucy Meyer has been in the hospital ten times this year. Every time they patch her up and send her home to a life where nobody visits her, the staff at the nursing home does the bare minimum to keep her alive, and Lucy’s always in pain.