Page 98 of Alien God

“Same... thing,” she panted.

“No,” I said. “There’s a difference.”

She stared at me, lips quivering. Her eyes focused with what looked like great effort, understanding my question but unwilling, or unable, to answer it.

“I... I...”

“Yes?” Tell me it was me you needed. Me and only me. I curled my finger inward, sliding it in quick, demanding strokes until a pulsing tremor began deep inside her.

“I...” Her eyes scrunched shut, severing the connection, cutting herself off from me and from my question. “I’m going to come.”

“Then come,” I commanded, bending once more to her slender throat, her ear. “Come for me, little bride. Come for me, right now, and don’t you dare forget that I’m the one who made you do it.”

Perhaps for the first time, she obeyed me without defiance or complaint. Her arms squeezed around my neck as she writhed wildly. Then, she arched, taut but thrumming. She cried out as her cunt clamped down.

I groaned along with her, not stopping the strokes of my finger, the press of my palm, wanting to urge more pleasure from her. She answered my movements with pulsing constriction, drawing me deeper, deeper, needing more from me. More of me.

Mind shattered, I pulled my hands away with a growl. I ripped my leather trousers down, releasing my hard length. Lust took on a shape and an instinct and a whole heartbeat of its own as I stared down at Torrance. She was slumped back against the pillows and the headboard. Her eyes were still closed but her legs were open, splayed on the red silk and the white fur. Sionnach preserve me, Sionnach save me, she was so wet. And I was so hard. So hard that every sensation in my body congregated in my groin until there was nothing left. No sense, no stone sky god. I was completely gone, my entire life, every thought and desire I’d ever had, replaced by the obliterating need to be inside her.

“Torrance... Torrance...” I did not know when I’d begun moaning her name in that unfamiliar, broken voice. I only knew that I could not stop saying it as I guided my head to her slick entrance. “Torrance...”

Wetness and glorious heat met my skin. Her slippery arousal coated my tip, thrilling me, making my testicles tingle and tighten. I was so close, already on that star-flung edge, one breathless thrust away from explosion.

But then, she said it. The one word I’d told her, begged her, to say before. The word that made me want to howl, made me want to hurl myself across the room. The word that made some twisted part of me want to – curse me, I knew I’d be sick with shame tomorrow, would not recognize the savagery inside myself – pretend I had not heard her.

But I had heard. And I would not be the monster she’d once told me that I was.

My bride said stop.

And just as I’d vowed I would, I stopped.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Torrance

Wylfrael froze at my word, a living statue, unmoving except for the wild, unsteady tear of his breathing. My own breathing was just as laboured as I stared at him. I couldn’t see his face – he was looking down, down at where his body and mine were nearly joined, his hair falling forward and obscuring his expression. Every muscle in him was clenched – he barely even looked real. More like some illustration from an anatomy book, an example of perfect, honed musculature.

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