Page 13 of The Cursed

Still, she continued to hold my stare, a challenge in her gaze and her body tense. I pulled back, thrusting forward and fucking her quickly. Not because I wanted to rush my time with her, but because I couldn’t imagine anything else.

Myneedto fill her with my cum was undeniable. My need to watch it leak out of her swollen pussy like something I’d never known. And when I got her back to our room, I’d fuck her all over again and feel how wet she was when she was already filled with me.

“Gray,” she said, her whimper like music to my soul. It was the plea of a woman on the edge of oblivion, of a woman who couldn’t deny the orgasm coming to pull her under. I released her, pulling out of her as she leveled me with a glare.

“Take what you need, love,” I said, kneeling and waiting for her to move. I wanted there to be no doubt in her mind that she’d wanted this. I didn’t want her to be able to rewrite history to say that she’d been unwilling when I took her, and I knew her well enough to know she would attempt to deny the darkest part of herself that she wasn’t willing to come to terms with.

She wasn’t ready to dance with the monster beneath her skin. To acknowledge that while I might be the devil, she’d made her home in my soul and felt comfortable there.

She maneuvered to her knees, breathing deep and wholly focused as she stared at me. I was still fully clothed except for my open fly, and her passive stare trailing over me before it landed on my cock for the first time. She reached out with a single hand, shoving me backward with a force that managed to knock me over. I fell onto my back on the forest floor, shifting to get my legs to a natural angle as Willow stripped her ruined, torn nightgown off and stood. She strode over me, staring down at me, giving me a perfect, flawless view of her in all her glory.

She sank to her knees quickly, far too quickly for a human, and she seemed to realize it as she slowed in straddling my hips. She lifted just enough to slide her hand between us, putting my cock at the angle she needed so that she could lower herself onto it as her eyes drifted closed.

“Fucking Hell,” I groaned, grasping her by the hips as she started to move. The way she rode me was like a dance, a fluid roll of her hips back and a sharp snap forward to take me deep, grinding her clit against me with every movement.

She grabbed the sides of my shirt in each hand, yanking them apart so the buttons flew into the air, and she touched her bare hands to my chest for balance. She hesitated only momentarily when the handprint on my chest came into view, settling her hands down on top of it to block it from her view. It had healed somewhat, the bright red fading into a white scar. I hoped it never healed, that it stayed with me forever.

I watched her, holding off my own pleasure long enough to allow my wife to use me in a way I’d never thought to enjoy.

But I enjoyed everything that brought Willow pleasure.

“That’s it, love,” I murmured when she tossed her head back. Her nipples strained toward me, begging me to take them into my mouth and love them the way every bit of her deserved.

Later.

We had centuries together—an eternity for me to worship every part of her.

She sought her release, the rolls of her hips becoming less rhythmic and controlled. Her body turned to chaos as it consumed her, her whimpers threatening to make me cum. She went silent as the orgasm engulfed her, her mouth dropping open in a soundless scream as the center of my chest burned.

Black filled my vision, shadows surrounding her hands where she touched me as she came. The burn was like nothing I’d ever felt, hotter than the flames of Hell themselves. The white scar tissue beneath her hands shifted, forming something new entirely—something unique.

She’d fucking marked me.

Knowing that she'd claimed me as her husband brought me more joy than it should have. Even though I knew it hadn’t been intentional, I couldn’t help the grin that stole over my face as I reached up and pulled her toward me. Sealing my lips to hers, I devoured her mouth as I flipped her to her back and hiked one of her legs high so that I could fuck her.

“Wicked little witch,” I said with a laugh, feeling her pussy tighten around me with every thrust. She was still in the lingering throes of her orgasm, her body spasming as I plowed into her as hard and as fast as I could manage.

“Fuck!” she screamed, the sound filling the deafening silence of the forest as I drove her toward a second orgasm right on the tail of the first. Her pussy clamped down on me, holding me prisoner and stealing the cum from my balls. I filled her in shallow pumps, roaring my own release as I bent toward her and bit her shoulder. There were no fangs to draw blood, and I missed the sensation of that part of her within me.

When I pulled back, the witchling’s gaze flicked to the circular maze of labyrinths she’d imprinted on my chest.

Hecate’s maze marred my skin; the mark of my necromancer wife burned into my flesh like a brand.

Willow swallowed, staring up at me as she floundered for words.

“You’re mine now, Willow Morningstar.”

8

WILLOW

That mark on his chest held me captive, a swallow throbbing the entire way down my throat as I tried to come to terms with what I'd done. I hadn't meant to or even wanted to claim him in any way, but the magic pulsing through my veins now felt wild—uncontrollable.

"What have you done to me?" I asked him, refusing to allow him to see the emotion that clogged my throat. My connection to the earth had always been strong, our relationship intense, since I loved it more than any of the other parts of me.

But now...

Now, it felt like the magic itself was alive within me, almost like it writhed and curled beneath my skin. There was a darker tint to it, as if shadows were following the light. A light that I could only assume was what I'd inherited from Charlotte and the bones hanging around my neck. The part that scared me the most was the pulsing threat that craved death and decay, the cycle of life that demanded payment.

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