Page 40 of Fate & Monsters
“One day I might eat you, Astoria,” he admitted.
My ribs clenched, and my heart rattled with a rush of fleeting fear.
“You won’t.” I grabbed his face, urging his mouth to mine.
He nipped at my bottom lip, and I moaned.
“I might.” He kissed and nipped at my jaw while settling his body in the cradle of my thighs. “It won’t be because I’ve stopped wanting you, stopped needing you. It’ll be because my want of you will have consumed me to the brink of madness. It’s in my nature, sweetling. I’m a demon.”
“Yes, I know.” I was a novice, but I kissed himanyway.
Mavros shuddered above me. “I would eat you so carefully. You wouldn’t even notice as I swallowed you. You would simply melt into me and warm the ice in my veins.” He kissed me and kissed me and kissed me. And I wondered if he would eat me right there and then.
“Take your fill of me and sate your hunger.” I curved my arms around his neck and pulled him closer. Chest to chest, beating heart to heart, close enough to imagine his ribs cracking open to pull me inside the meat of his body to covet me there.
“You are the flesh monsters adore.” He sounded agonized, trembling with the fracturing vestiges of restraint.
“Then adore me, Mavros.”
A savage, brutal groan erupted from him. He prayed at the altar of my throat, roamed the relic of my body, and slipped inside me like a blade thrust to the hilt in the heart of a saint. The brunt of his devotion, his desire, tore me asunder. Stretching, tearing, thrusting—
Fucking. Like wild animals in the cold, dark earth.
It was pain, and it was pleasure, and it was a holy consumption. Mavros was my ruination and my salvation. My cage and my freedom. My life and, someday, my death.
“Gods—fuck, I’ve never… it’s so tight.” His claws pricked at my hips and tears built in the corners of my eyes. “So tight, and wet, and perfect. All mine. Made just for me.”
Mavros pulled out and slammed back in. A scream tore from my lips.
“Too much… oh, it’s too much. Mavros, please.” I squirmed beneath him, fingers locked in his fur, caught between shoving him away and pulling him closer.
“I can’t stop. It’s too late to stop. It feels so good. You… you feel so good.” His growling, babbling words spiraled through the storm in my mind.
“It’s—ah!—I can’t take it,” I sobbed.
“I know, sweetling. I know.” The beast snapped his hips into mine, driving whimpering grunts from my lips between broken sobs.
“Mavros, please, I can’t—”
“You’re so pretty when you cry. Fuck.” He grabbed my hips and pounded harder, spearing through me and rearranging my insides. The wet sounds of his cock claiming me filled the garden, along with the musky scent of sex. “You said you wanted it. You begged for this. Don’t be so whiny now.”
The threat of claws as he rubbed up and down my stomach sent a tight shiver up my spine.
“I know it hurts. Oh, I know.” His placating hum was almost as condescending as it was soothing. “Be good for me.Oh, fuck.So good for me. Feels so good. Just be good for me, keep taking my cock so well. I’ll make it good for you. Just keep taking me.”
Tremors wracked my body and the profound sensations in my cunt warped my reality. Themonster prince was far too large, yet my hips rolled to seek his severe girth each time he withdrew. My pussy wanted his cock even when it hurt, even when it threatened to tear me in two. I was eager for it, digging at his shoulders and crying his name like a deranged mantra.
My pussy gripped him, fluttering along his length as if intent on pulling him deep and keeping him there. The beast was willing to oblige the subtle requests of my body. He rolled his hips in a way that stimulated me from within and at the apex of my thighs. It was ruthless and chaotic, a nightmare painted in pastels. Yet my soul screamed that it wasn’t enough.
“Is this what you wanted?” He snatched a fistful of my hair and jerked my head back, forcing me to meet his scalding gaze. Hot tears trekked down my cheeks, and my reedy gasps didn’t deter him. “This is how a monster worships the divine, Astoria. In blood and brutality. And you’re mine to worship, to feast on, to fuck.”
“Yes. Yes. Yes!”
Tension skittered over my scalp as he tugged my hair. His hot tongue laved at my neck and down to my shoulder. His other hand scratched down my side, from my ribs to my hip, carefully slicing through my flesh. Pain merged with the pleasure, vaulting me into a point of no return.
“Say it, sweetling. Say it!” he snarled, and the garden seemed to tremble in fear around us.
“Mavros—”
