by S. A. Parker
“Sap. She likes to lick it from the trees, probably why she ate your tongue salve; it has some in it. I rescued her—her parents were shot down by legionnaires. Though she looks small she’s actually about fifteen. They grow slowly, and she won’t reach full maturity until she’s over five hundred years old.”
I try not to look shocked, likely fail. Drake has his hands full with a girl who’s probably going to be trapped in her teenage years for a good couple of centuries.
“Why did you keep her? Why not find her a new home with her kind?”
“I like having something to nurture and care for.”
Fucking hell. Drake the controlling bastard who likes to fuck a lot just knocked my expectations right out of the water. I realise I’m staring at him like he has penises for arms.
“I think you might be a good man.”
He smiles so wide I need to look away. I know I’ve said it before, but nobody should look that fucking perfect.
Red feathers. So many red feathers.
They’re everywhere … I’m drowning in them.
I fucking hate red feathers.
I swat my hand about, only causing them to converge further; into my hair, my ears … I choke and pull one from my fucking throat.
They’re scraping at my eyes, assaulting me in places that are far too exposed. I can’t get away from them … I can’t fucking escape them.
My beast wants a go. This is her domain and she’s revelling in it. She wants to eat these fuckers for breakfast. But I’m shaking too much, my whole-body jolting …
I realise the feathers aren’t red at all, they’re a different colour entirely …
“Dell … Dell wake up. It’s a nightmare, wake the fuck up, goddammit!”
I gasp, eyes snapping open. Where the hell am I?
Hidden under a canopy of gold fucking wings, that’s where I am. I barely even see the half-naked Dusk God hovering over me, straddling me, cradling my face in one hand.
“Calm down ... It’s night time. You’ve been sleeping. You’re safe.”
I’m not.
I never have been.
I know his feathers are gold, I can see they’re fucking gold, but something’s telling me they’re not gold at all.
Is he about to throw me against the dresser over there?
Is he about to stick one of his feathers so far up my lady bits that I need someone else to pull it out for me?
Is he about to …
I close my eyes, shaking my head.
I’m still dreaming, I must be still dreaming. I can’t get enough breath and I’ve lost control of my body … Kroe finally fucking broke me, for good.
A warmth blooms between my legs, awakening my petrified fucking vagina. I groan as the wave rolls in, caressing me in places I didn’t even know existed, before receding.
Drake takes my wrists and pins them above my head. My eyes fly open again.
He’s no longer looking at me like I’m some broken fairy-tale, instead he’s looking at me like I’m something to fucking conquer. Something to gain control of.
I struggle against the vice-like grip he has on my hands, gritting my teeth as I fight him for purchase beneath that canopy of shimmering feathers … representing the power he wields over me. His muscles roll and tense in the struggle to hold me at bay.
“Let go!” Screaming has never worked for me in the past, I’m not sure why I think it will now. I try to kick out, but my legs are pinned beneath his, his body hovering above mine in a way that’s all too familiar.
Warmth surges between my legs again, thick and tantalising, like a breath tickling me in just the right spots. My back arches—I grit my teeth and renew my struggle. “What are you doing?” My breath is heady, rasped … my mind scrambling for purchase.
He growls, a deep possessive sound that rumbles right through me. “Stop fighting me Dell. I’m not going to touch you. I’m not going to hurt you. You need to see that not everyone wants to fucking take from you.”
Another wave of pleasure practically bruises me, the force two-fold …
Holy fucking twat tingler … why the hell am I fighting again? I close my eyes and groan like the animal I am, the scent of my slick inner thighs infusing the air about us.
“Sweet fucking Dusk God ...”
Another wave and I’m moaning ... my vagina’s never had this sort of attention before, and he’s not even touching me.
“Drake,” he growls. “Use it, Dell. Say my name the next time you scream from my pleasure.” His voice is all gravel and command, turning my body to putty as he plays my vagina like a fucking fiddle.
Another wave hits and I just can’t help it. I scream his name so fucking loudly my voice cracks.
“Open your eyes. I want you to look me in the eye when you come for me.”
I oblige, because there’s no room for movement in his tone. It’s nothing magical, nothing spectacular, just pure, undiluted confidence. He owns what he wants, and he takes fucking charge of it.
His eyes are hooded, exotic and carnal as he lets go of my hands. “Good girl. I’ve let go but I want you to keep them there, do you understand?”
I nod, stealing a glimpse of his wings and gulping back the rising emotion.
He takes my chin in his hand, holding it hostage as he bares his canines in my face. “Don’t look at them, look at me. They’re not important. I am. What I’m doing to your body. Can you feel it?”
I nod, trying to be a good girl and keep my eyes open.
He swallows, adam’s apple bobbing. The sane part of me wants to lick it all over, maybe even graze my teeth along it …
Another wave, but this time it bites at me … like a tender niggle right across my clit. “Drake …”
He smiles, teeth flashing sinister. “Do you like that?”
In response I grind against thin air, struggling to keep my hands above my fucking head, because I want more friction. Need more friction.
Another wave, coupled with that same biting pleasure across the most sensitive parts of me, and I can’t fucking take it anymore. My hand shifts to my torso, on a beeline for my clit …
He growls and the pleasure fucking stops.
I’m not embarrassed to say I’m whimpering. My vagina’s shedding enough tears to drown a city.
“Put it back.” His eyes are piercing, tone abrupt, crumbling my resolve.
Bloody hell.
Pouting, I do as he asks.
“Good girl.”
Another wave washes over me, the sensation so fucking good it’s agonising.
“Drake … touch me!” My back is arching so high I almost manage to rub my party pie against his very obvious erection. But he dances his hips just out of reach every. Fucking. Time.
“No. I’ve seen you pleasure yourself, but you don’t know how good it can actually be ... because you’ve never been treated the way you fucking deserve to be treated.”
Well then …
Another wave hits and my whole body curls off the bed. “Holy fucking … fuck, I need you inside me, please ...” I’ve never needed anything so goddamn much before.
He shakes his head. “No, you don’t need me. You don’t need anyone. You are in control of your body. You just have to let go.”
The next wave takes me where I’ve never before been. Body slick with sweat, I ride that fucking wave like the beast I am, as Drake devours me with his gaze, urging me over the precipice and into a pit of undulating pleasure so fierce I’m surprised my whole body doesn’t collapse into itself, while I scream his name over and over.
The comedown leaves me with droopy lids, and something inside me that was broken before suddenly doesn’t feel quite so …
He throws me a heart shattering smile. “Good girl.”
Yeah, I deserve a gold vagina star for that one—I hope he pins it to my chest. I’ll call it my orgasm star. Don’t underestimate the power of a good fucking orgasm, I guess.
He lays down next to me, one wing draped over my
body possessively, a wing that now doesn’t look quite so frightening.
I can feel Drake’s gaze on me. “You can touch them.”
I’m not sure I want to. But then, maybe I do …
They’re gold. Gold.
Let go, Dell.
Let. Go.
I reach out, hand trembling as I run my fingers through those glistening, golden feathers, bathed in light from the fire dancing in the hearth.
He lets out a deep, rumbling groan—eyes closed, features content. “Do it again.”
I take a peek at his throbbing erection, standing loud and proud, pushed up against his linen pants that hide fucking nothing. I concede my own suspicions about giant penis number two. At least this God can give me an orgasm with his mind …
I pet my man-bird, studying his face as his brows knit and he chews his lower lip.
“Fuck.” He closes his eyes. “It feels so good when you do that.”
I do it again, just so I can store the image of his pleasure for when I’m alone, practising achieving the sensations he just roused in my previously under-appreciated vagina. Bitch has been living under a rock and she didn’t even realise it.
She’s screaming at me that we can’t be without this man’s magic orgasms again, ever, but I have her pinned against a wall, giving her a fucking pep talk—because this man goes through women like we went through cock at the whore house, bitch. We’re just another plaything, don’t get attached.
Too late … if I let her have free rein, she’d be clamped onto his leg, dry humping the godly bastard. He’d probably have to pry the bitch off.
“Do you ever just get a bunch of people together and make them all randy? Forge a giant orgy then sit back and enjoy your masterpiece like the fucking artist you are?” Because I would. Every opportunity I got I’d be forging orgies. I’d go down in history as a great and mighty being, the ‘Bringer of Vaginal Happiness’. Everyone would be so fucking liberated.
He laughs from his belly and the smile meets his eyes. “I’ve done it before, when I had power to splurge.”
Oh, right. With everything that’s been going on I almost forgot they’re running out …
“Why haven’t you used your wish on me yet?”
All happiness disappears as he studies me in earnest. I’ve stopped playing bird whisperer, keeping my petting hands to myself.
He shrugs. “There’s nothing I want from you.”
I try to hold back my laugh and it comes out as a snort. “Yeah, that’s not what a girl wants to hear when you just gave her a ground-breaking orgasm with your mind.”
“No, bad fucking timing right there,” he says, smiling.
“Seriously though Drake, just get it over with. I don’t fit, you all need the power boost, I don’t understand why you won’t just do it.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t want to do it yet. I want to give to you, not take from you.”
“Orgasms?” My whore vagina made me say it.
“Those, too, but more than that. I just want to be close to you. I know the other guys feel it too, which is fucking annoying because I don’t like to share. It’s not my thing. I nearly tore Aero’s balls off when I heard he’d bitten your fucking tongue.”
“I made him do that, it was entirely my fault.”
He runs his finger along the base of my throat, then back again, and I can hardly breathe because it’s sending tingles all the way to my nether regions. “I want my venom running through those veins of yours. Just mine. With you, I have no control, and it’s stewing me up in ways you wouldn’t understand.”
“Talking about stewing …” Yeah, I need to vomit. My timings fucking impeccable, anyone would think I had an aversion to deep and meaningful conversations that elicit actual emotions.
Holding my hand over my mouth, I push my way out from beneath that giant wing and hurtle towards the washroom, slamming the door behind me and throwing myself at the toilet, where I shoot my ruby stomach jizz all over the goddamn porcelain.
Fucking hell, it’s getting worse.
I hear some sort of commotion outside the bathroom, but I’m too busy hurling my guts up to take much notice.
“Get the fuck out of here, you know the risk!” Drake’s pissed at someone.
“You need to go in there, now.”
What the fuck is Aero doing here? Has he come to let me gnaw on his bicep finally?
“She’s hiding something from us!”
Ohhhhhh shiiiiiit.
The door handle begins to turn …
“Fuck off! Give a girl some privacy for shit sake!” I hurl some more, and I’m flushing the chain at the same time, leaving the water only slightly pink looking.
The door opens, but I don’t have the energy to actually fight a fucking Sun God. “Ugh …” I lay down on the cool, hard floor so I can gather myself, because I’m a trembling mess. And I’m tired from my orgasm. Really, I just want to go back to sleep.
Maybe after another orgasm …
Strong arms scoop me up, lifting me off the ground. “You can fuck off now, Aero. I’ve got her.” Drake carries me through to the bedroom where Aero is standing, half naked, looking ripe for the taking. I like my Dawn God rare, even if I am laying like a limp dick and quivering like a virgin at an orgy.
“I’m not going anywhere, but she needs another dose. Her metabolism has burnt it off already but her blood still has traces of my venom.”
“There’s no way you’re putting that green shit on my tongue right now. Sorry.”
They look at me blankly for a moment, then back at each other.
“Then take a spare fucking bedroom, otherwise she’ll probably bite you in her sleep.”
“Valid point,” Aero grumbles, turning for the door.
Drake lowers me to the bed. Sap—back from her little night time flying adventure, crawls forward and nestles herself against my side.
Aero pauses, half out the door, turning back to look at me with a crinkled brow, that somehow manages to make him look even more bite worthy. His arse also looks really fucking tight in those pants.
“I know I just vomited and all, but I’m not against biting your bum right now if you’re up for it?”
He doesn’t even smile. Wow, someone’s channelling their inner fun sponge again.
“Your drako likes her …”
Drake nods as he tucks me in meticulously. His wings are still out and taking up a lot of fucking space if you ask me. “Can’t get enough of her. I had to throw her outside so Dell could get some sleep earlier.”
They share a look that lasts for a few long seconds; they’re purposely leaving me out of a conversation! Motherfuckers. And I’m too sleepy to argue.
“Tomorrow,” says Aero, heading for the door. “No more fucking orgasms, arsehole.” He slips out the door, slamming it shut behind him.
“Tomorrow what?” I ask, trying to mask the sound of my vagina’s hysterical wails. I can have orgasms if I want to have fucking orgasms …
“Nothing, babe. Go to sleep.”
“Mhm. Bite me.”
Lights out.
Chapter Twelve
I wake with Drake sleeping soundly next to me, looking all godly and perfect. Even his eyelashes are like spun gold. I’m tempted to run my finger along that square jawline, then up to the freckle high on his cheekbone that’s practically begging to be licked.
“Like what you see, babe?”
Ahh …
I close my eyes and pretend to be asleep.
“Nice try, I felt you watching me. I also felt your arousal.”
Shit almighty, he’s also a fucking sex detector. I crack an eye open. “How can you feel someone’s arousal?”
He stretches his arms above his head and I repress the urge to grind my vagina all over him. Fuck, is she rubbing off on me? She’s so vulgar!
“It’s part of my gift. I can perceive sensory stimulation.” He pushes out his wings, stretching the muscles and taking up half the room.
“I was just admiring your freckle. It’s a nice freckle.” I don’t tell him I want to lick said freckle, because I think it may come across a little creepy.
“I like yours too.”
I blush … he means the one by my fucking bellybutton. I thought I was the only one who knew it was there … convenient time for a toilet break?
Clearing my throat and dodging a wing, I edge out of bed, doing my best not to disturb Sap who’s still sleeping.
“Are you going to the toilet?”
I turn to see Drake sitting on the edge of the bed, looking conniving as fuck. “Yes, I am. Want to join me? I didn’t know you were into that, but hey …”
He laughs, full and hearty. “I’m not, I just need you to piss in a jar for me.”
What.
The.
Fuck.
I take a step backwards, then another, and the fucker’s tensing like he’s ready to pounce.
“Why?”
“I just need you to.”
Yeah. Nah.
“I want many things in life, Drake, doesn’t mean I’m going to get them. Unfortunately for you, same rules apply.” I turn and run for the bathroom, but he’s right there, barring the door before I can close it behind me, holding out a glass fucking jar.
“I’m not asking, I’m telling.”
I look down at the jar in his hand. “You can shove that up your arse for all I care, I’m not peeing in a fucking jar.”
“You think you can overpower a God, babe?” He looks bloody wicked, and a little amused.
I tap my foot on the ground. I really need to pee.
Growling, baring my canines at the bastard, I storm out of the bathroom. “Where’s the kitchen? I’m hungry.”
He folds his arms over his chest and sighs. “All right, I’ll play. You’re going to have to piss some time though, and when you finally explode, I’ll be right there, between your legs, holding the fucking jar if I have to.”
I stomp out of the room. I’ll find the kitchen on my own.
Half an hour later I’m still wandering aimlessly along well-lit tunnels carved deep into the mountain, natural and raw. I consider how it’s the complete opposite to the Day castle, that’s all sparkles and glam. No wonder Sol and Drake don’t get on, they’re polar opposites who both have alpha streaks and one singular, cataclysmic similarity; they both like to be in control.