by Kai Leakes
Sanna dropped her head in surrender. The fight in her was already slowly melting away with his closeness but her stubborn mind had her mouth opening to pop off again. “Okay, damn it. I see your point but . . .”
A swift scoop of Khamun’s lips had Sanna being lifted against the wall. Hard plains of muscles caused her to body to react in brazen lust the moment Khamun’s hand fisted in her hair to roughly tug to expose her neck. The slick flat of his tongue with that of the sensual scraping of his fangs and teeth against her jugular had Sanna splashing waterfalls between her thighs.
His simple, rough, “Shut up, you need to feed,” had her complying, knowing the fight was over.
She understood what he was saying. She could tell he got what she was saying but right now, they needed to meet in the middle. Which she knew was going on once the sound of tearing fabric sounded in their chamber. An aching of her gums alerted her of her incisors dropping. Her hand slapped against his bicep, which jumped under her touch at the anticipation of her bite. His heart was in her hands and his fingers were now deep within the syrupy wetness of her confines. Viper swift insertion of her bite was her penetration of his armor.
The man was incredible. Her fingertips ran over the sides of his hips, hooking into the belt buckle of his jeans. As soon as her siphon intensified and his ruddy essence pumped down her throat, the buckle to his jeans loosened allowing his member to break free and spring forward against her covered stomach. This was rough; this wasn’t pretty. While he stripped her naked, he removed her mouth from his neck to turn her around then pressed her against the wall. His rough hand took an ample grip of her ass, lifting her onto the tips of her toes. In the heated moment of it all, Sanna still felt his love, need, and respect he had for her.
She had never experienced him like this. Yet again, she was a pupil under his eager tutelage. Once his shaft pierce her slippery folds from behind, his name ripped from her throat. The man was Pharaoh. Long fingertips stroked her swollen bud, collecting her moisture to keep his caresses going. Fangs from his lips tickled then cut a thin line from behind her ear to her collarbone causing Sanna to hit octaves she never knew she could in that moment. Satin tough wings wrapped to hold her while her own fought to reach with the dip of her reach against his body.
Poetry was in the motion. They mated as if they were in the Garden of Eden. The slick sounds of their body colliding together kept her wet. Her name rolled from his lips, his hand griped her plush breasts and the floor with the wall seemed to melt away.
Her throaty gasp rewarded her with him turning her around again to passionately claim her with his own bite. As he drank, Khamun picked her up, gripped the side of her thigh, and then pushed up deep into her, releasing her throat at the same time. His length was so good that it felt as if he had hit her spine, which caused her to arch into him. The low slurp of him sucking her aching nipple and fleshy breast into his mouth made her yoni constrict desperately around his shaft milking him.
“I get you. I feel you understand what I was saying so this fight is over. Now tell me something,” Khamun drawled against her ear.
The man smelled so good, so intoxicating that she wanted to just lick his body until she got her feel of his taste. He still didn’t bite her and by the Most High she so wanted him to. No she needed him, just like she needed more of his essence and touch.
“What?” She almost couldn’t breathe out. His staff plumped inside of her, stopping its stroke to just thump against her bud like a heartbeat before surging back into her.
“Who the fuck is Adam and curse for me again. I like that shit, it was sexy,” he murmured.
Sanna’s mind wheeled with the pleasure he was serving. She had no idea what he was talking about but whatever it was, she wanted the answer herself. Just as long as he didn’t stop the dance he was giving her.
She fought to formulate the answer but all she got out was, “Ahhh, I don’t know, man. Adam is you! Oh my gosh!”
A pleasure-filled cry ripped from them both the moment he hit that million-dollar stroke. Water formed in her eyes then his grip tightened. Khamun’s slick skin appeared like fresh Nutella in the jar. Every tattoo on his body, including his wings, illuminated in front of her, telling her to clamp her mouth on his neck. Her tongue dipped out to trace the veins that bulged from his neck, arms, and then hand. Sucking on each finger, she glanced into his eyes, and then she felt his legs crumble. Falling on top of him, she giggled then slowly groaned at the feel of both of his hands gripping her lush rear.
“Yeah? Then you must be Eve,” he crooned against her mental.
His touch guided her, telling her to ride him so she did. She made her hips roll, then the walls of her plum breathe in and out while popping against him. She guided his hands to hold her sensitive breasts, and then she was rewarded yet again by him flipping her on her back, one leg strewn over his shoulder, the other hitched over the crook of his arm. Every part of her creamed in newfound pleasure. His shaft felt as if it had grown even more, causing her to growl low.
Tears spilled and Khamun kissed each one away before inviting his tongue to dance with hers. His head shifted to suck on her tongue then nibble on her lips. His low moans of “sorry” as if he was hurting her melted away the moment his locks brushed over her heady mouth, and then when his lips connected with her swollen pearl. The King of Babel was his name once he sang the Song of Solomon against her folds. Lovemaking after a fight was definitely damn good.
Chapter 17
The bitch had to be out of her mind if she thought for one second that she would submit to her will. She knew her place. She knew her life and all of that jazz she just went through had to be some crap. Ever since the fight with the Oracle and the delicious confusing night with the man from her nightmares, Calvin, she felt as if she was off. More like tainted and for the first time since laying eyes on the Reaper, she was scared. Her kind invented fear and this was not accepted in her mind. Pushing up from where she still sat, the Medusa glared at Winter.
“This whole time you’ve been playing us for fools? Oh, okay, Winter. You know what time it is then,” she yelled at the woman she felt close to as if a sister.
Winter’s sapphire eyes illuminated the room. She sat kneeling; her crinkled red hair spilled over her face, and some of it stuck to her from wetness of water dripping from the tunnel. “You need to accept the truth at hand. I’m ready to die for my role in this. I helped as the Dark Queen commanded me. Her law will always be first for me on the Cursed side. However, for now, do what the hell you have to do, Nydia. I helped you and our Mistress; if you desire to kill me then bring it. Fight you I will, but for now we need to go.”
Each jewel around Winter’s collar and ring resting on her middle finger glowed. A waning pulsing wave hit Nydia in that instant, causing her own metal collar to light up before they were swallowed into its void. Everything was replaying in slow motion for Nydia. St. Louis was clearly a fail for her and she knew she had to think of a way to not be skinned alive yet again. Her trip to St. Louis was like a drugged haze to her now that she was back home.
Ever since the conversation she had with her enemy, everything seemed to muddle into nothingness except the intensity of his manhood within her. She still felt as if he was pulsating within her when she walked and that made her nervous. It also made her skin flush with fear. She couldn’t remember a thing but snatches of the meeting and she was known for her long memory. One hint of her sexual play gone wrong from her Mistress could mean the end of her, the demotion of her life to that in the bowels of hell. She couldn’t risk that regardless of the fact of her brief captivity with the light and Winter’s betrayal. Something had changed within her once-cold, empty chest. However, she still had every intention to reveal to her Mistress and the Mad King what had just happened.
The Cursed Great Hall was overflowing with Cursed minions. She felt as if all eyes were on her. Tension in the room had her square her shoulders while slowly sashaying into Reina’s personal public chamb
ers. Since her appearance was always for her Mistress and Mad King’s pleasure, she wore a black hooded robe.
The sides were split open, held together by barb threads. The comforting heaviness of her prize kept her level while she dragged it with her into the opulent white chambers. Nydia was ready for the big reveal but a flash of a frown hit her pretty features as she focused on what was before her. What awaited her shouldn’t have surprised her, but it annoyed her nonetheless.
“Oh, you brought me a present, my pet!” Nydia heard Princess Reina cajole.
She immediately dropped to stoop in submission in front of the Royal Princess. Both of her knees painfully dug into the hard stone floor. Her reptilian eyes shifted then focused to gaze upon the voluptuous, alluring frame of the Dark Lady reclining in her usual regal seat. A loincloth-clad male servant settled against her Mistress’s shoulder to offer his neck for her to drink from him. Nydia couldn’t help to notice Reina’s plush lips, which were coated in blood-red ruby-dusted lipstick. The Princess loved her lipsticks. Each one was crafted specifically for her to inflict pain on others through the shards of poison dipped gems or metals blended within the blooming pigment. Vanity was a luxury here and Reina embodied it well. Her beautiful black yet auburn tresses fell in waves over her smooth saffron-golden shoulders. Her silver-white dress revealed shapely legs and dainty feet that were currently being rubbed by the Mad King himself, while her razor-sharp ruby-dipped nails sparkled in the faceted kiss of candlelight around her.
The Mad King’s malevolent gaze fell upon Nydia. It felt as if he knew all of her secrets especially the ones she was intent upon sharing. King Caius sat dressed in clean-cut black suit that was tailored to his broad shoulders and thick yet lean muscular shape. If one wasn’t accustomed to his presence, they would think he was in a casual mood as he sat in a chair that was the duplicate of his throne.
Yet, Nydia knew this man and she knew the game well. He was by far not calm, as was apparent due to his reddening irises, and lengthening incisors. Nydia quickly averted her gaze from his. Pride with that of her rank had her keep her posture upward to display her own power and command.
Nydia felt exposed. She felt vulnerable, something she was not accustomed to feeling. She hated it and she wanted it torn from her so that she could be invisible. Maybe she deserved whatever punishment was about to come her way because she was weak.
Yes, maybe this was what she needed as a way to remove these feeble emotions growing within her thanks to that Oracle. Nydia was supposed to be an unemotional being, an entity to be feared, not this sniveling weak thing. Her world was off-kilter and it pissed her off. She clutched her fist tight, tugging on the barb chain that savagely tore into the neck of her latest captive. She blamed Calvin.
A light brush against her mind caused Nydia to sharply glance up. She noticed Winter resting on her side against an opulent antique rug. Her bare, softly muscled arms rested on the arm of the Dark Princess chair and her cheek lay near her cupped hands. She seemed to be smiling at Nydia, yet her face stayed cold and unfeeling.
Her crinkled hair was now dyed a vibrant red, instead of the dark red it was before, that accented her smoky café-au-lait hazelnut-toned skin. It also made her sapphire bright eyes glow and accented the plump swell of her creamy breasts. She was covered in an icy royal-blue split dress and black skintight leather leggings that displayed her lethal curves. There was an unspoken secret in her aura. Nydia quietly made note of it. Bitch was about to go down.
The collar around Nydia’s throat seemed to constrict, letting her know that her Mistress demanded her attention, cutting off her seething thoughts. Resting her eyes on her Mistress, Reina dramatically motioned for Nydia to stand and speak. Inwardly smirking, she thought this was her time.
“Mistress, I brought for you a treat from my mission in St. Louis. I hope she pleases the Royal house,” Nydia cautiously relayed. Her eyes locked on Reina to let her know that this new toy had information useful to their cause.
“Ah, your mission, dear Stalker; do tell us what you found in this one,” the King quizzically responded.
With a flick of her wrist, Nydia tugged and forced her captive closer to the Royals then spoke calmly. “I foresaw that there was a missive in St. Louis, one I was told to eradicate in order to protect Lord Brandon de Valc-Fur’i and aid in our cause.”
“Yes, this message I was also given a chance to see from Lord Jacques. Now how did that turn out for you, my dear weapon?”
The cool tone in the King’s interjecting voice seemed to grate her nerves. He kept rushing her. She had more to share with her mission but the heated flash of a quiet voice from within told her that he saw more then she understood. So she gathered that she had to be careful in the relay of her choice of words.
“I found that Lord Brandon still had a surviving relative, Aiyanna Braves. That the California Cursed kingdoms did not eradicate all of his blood after our esteemed King took down the enemy’s temple. From this, I knew that the link needed to be taken care of, that I had to clean their mess,” she explained. A tension grew in Nydia’s stomach. It was so sharp that it had her digging her nails within her palms drawing blood while she waited for the King’s affirmation.
He waved a slovenly hand in the air, and then pushed his daughter’s feet from his lap to lean forward. A dark delight burned in his eyes. His Latin heritage seemed to become more handsome the longer he stared at her.
The rich deepness of his voice suddenly had her skin crawling as he cajoled, “Do continue.”
“My hit was distracted due to our enemy infiltrating the club I found her at. It appears that our enemy is furious for our victory over killing their precious Oracle.” She hoped that knowledge would keep the Mad King at bay but one never knew with him.
Nydia made ready to tell him that the Oracle was still alive, but a burning sensation in her throat caused her to stop and notice the King’s posture. When that piece of intel was stated, she saw a flash of fury in the King’s eyes point at his daughter and her. His stare was a dark, mincing, abysmal, evil glare, one she was accustom to as a dark entity, but as fast as it appeared was as fast as it had disappeared. The look that was in its place was one of appreciation in their battle.
Hurriedly licking her chapped lips, she continued with that note of caution blaring in her mind. “In that fight, I was able the mark her with my nails an—”
“And then you lost her!” the King interrupted then roared.
Nydia hastily returned to kneel in obedience, but found herself lifted to her toes dangling by the large grip of the King’s massive hand. She knew not to fight, but everything in her wanted him dead. The satisfaction of seeing his death was so intense that it made her body bloom in ecstasy as she tried to speak.
“My King, I . . .” she struggled to croak out. She really wanted to tell the rest of her intel but could not. The burning continued, reminding her of when she was bound in the chair.
“Sí? You . . . you . . . what? You came to us thinking I would not smell the taint of failure on you. Nydia, mi amor, I’ve raised you near my daughter. I chose you specifically for her and enjoyed bringing you into the fold. How sweet and fresh you were, but do not think I don’t smell the taint of a liar. We live in the house of lies. Do you enjoy how I torture you? How it arouses me?”
In that moment, she realized it wasn’t a reminder of being held in that chair with the Light but the power of the Mad King’s grip. The King let his eyes roam over her body, which caused the flicker of disgust to coat Nydia’s mouth. He dropped his head, and then let his lips brush over the top of her soft breasts before running the flatness of his tongue scrap over the ridges of her scales, then over spots of smooth coffee skin.
“I think you do,” he sinisterly murmured. “For your failure, I think I shall remind you of where you came from, niña.”
That simple word, niña, meaning “little girl,” sparked a queasy anger in her and triggered a faint memory from her dark dreams.
H
is spiteful laugh tore into her as confusion hit her hard. “Where did she come from?” echoed in her mind and her eyes widened.
The Oracle said this would happen! Helplessly, the Mad King walked her backward then flipped her face forward against the chamber’s walls.
Painted handprints shifted along the surface with that of the outlines of many faces. They reached for her. Pulled for her and she knew innately that this was a punishment worse than a flogging, flaying, and beating. The sensation of the Mad King pressing her face into the malleable surface of the moving wall tore at a rising panic she had never felt before. This was true fear. This was fear she had inflicted on her many victims over the years and now it was her turn.
“Sí, mi pequeña mascota, mi niña preferida. Su miedo huele muy dulce, luchar más para mí.” the Mad King cajoled against the curve of her ear and it translated within her being as, Yes, my little pet, my favorite little girl. Your fear smells so sweet, struggle more for me.
She wanted to tell him to fuck himself. To go and impale himself on the nearest sword for calling her “girl,” but soon her defensive thoughts were quickly casted away with a brush against her from behind. A panicked scream ripped from her lips as thousands of hands scraped and pawed at her. Voices of millions sounded in the chamber emitting from the surface she was pressed against.
The wall softened into a pliable, gritty surface, almost like dried flesh and clay. A rotting scent made her gag the farther she sunk into the wall. She tried to push backward, almost pleading. Nydia felt half of her face sink into the madness of what was the Wall of Purgatory, causing her to begin to fight. The King seemed to love it as he pressed his girth into her backside. In that moment, she knew that she would give him anything if he would not place her into the wall again.