Page 159 of Monster Daddies
He stands beside the bed, gazing down at me with an affectionate expression that doesn’t make sense given the circumstances. Yes, I agreed to submit to him, but I’m also his prisoner. Why is he looking at me like that? How could he harbor any actual tenderness for me? I tell myself I must be imagining it.
He takes a seat and places a hand on my thigh. His touch sizzles through me, a heady rush of sensation that causes my entire body to tingle. As he holds my gaze, a breeze enters through the open windows, ruffling his long, dark hair around his shoulders while providing a much-needed burst of coolness on my overheated flesh. Why do I feel so feverish?
I almost gasp when I hear the whispers again. Whispers on the wind, as though the rustling leaves are chanting something I can’t quite understand. Every so often, I swear I hear my name amidst the strange words. When Silas glances outside and tenses, I suspect he hears it too.
“It’s haunting but beautiful,” I say. “What language is it?”
His head swivels back to me, and he regards me with a stunned expression, his eyes wide and filled with shock. “You can hear that?” There’s a note of awe in his voice. He’s surprised I can hear it, but he also seems pleased by the outcome.
“Yes, I can hear the whispers on the wind.” I flush under his full attention. His hand remains on my thigh, squeezing firmly, and his eyes are boring into mine with an intensity that’s making the air seize in my chest. “Um, I first heard the whispers while I was standing on the altar.”
“You can hear the whispers, but you don’t know the language,” he says, almost to himself, as a contemplative look falls over him. “How extraordinary.”
Extraordinary? I glance at his hand on my thigh. Through the layers of my white gown, I feel the heat of his hand, and I can’t help but yearn for his touch on my bare skin. The wind picks up, and the whispers grow louder. This time, I’m certain I hear my name. The forest guardian peers at me with an expression that can only be described as… hopeful. He’s looking at me as though I’m the answer to all his problems, whatever those problems might be. I flush again and wish I knew what he was thinking.
“Can you understand the whispers?” I ask.
“Yes, I can. The wind has always spoken to me.” He pauses and glances toward the window again, then returns his gaze to me. “But it’s an ancient tongue. One no longer spoken by humans.” Warmth flickers in his eyes as he commences rubbing my thigh.
With each upward stroke, the fabric of my gown bunches higher on my legs. Though it’s incredibly indecent, I’m not wearing stockings, as the Elders’ wives didn’t provide any as they helped me dress this morning, and my bare legs are soon on full display. Silas’s dark eyes glimmer with heat, and his nostrils flare as he leans down and takes another deep inhale. Why does he keep smelling me? A lusty growl rumbles from his chest.
“What-what is the wind saying?” I force out. It’s becoming difficult to think clearly, but I somehow manage to utter the question. If I can keep him talking long enough, perhaps it’ll serve as a distraction, and he’ll postpone claiming me. Never mind that I’m aching for his touch.
The antlered male pushes my gown above my waist, revealing the thin white pantalets I’m wearing. At least the Elders’ wives permitted me the undergarment. At least I’m not fully naked in front of Silas. Not yet. But I’m aware of his urgency to claim me. The bulge in his pants keeps getting larger.
He draws in a long breath, then cups the area between my thighs, giving my pussy a hard squeeze over the thin layer of mypantalets. I whimper and jolt on the bed, but rather than try to escape him, my center lurches upward of its own accord, causing me to push myself against his groping hand. It’s as though my body has a mind of its own, and I’m unable to control my urges. I need… I need more.
“Do you really want to know what the wind keeps saying?” he asks as he gives my pussy another squeeze.
“Yes,” I gasp out, and my center undulates into his hand. A flush sweeps through me, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t remain still. I writhe on the bed and clutch the covers, hoping he’ll apply more pressure to my pulsating core.
“The wind says you’re my mate.” His eyes blaze with renewed triumph.
For a few seconds, his words don’t quite penetrate my consciousness. They hover in open space, and I keep thinking I must’ve misheard him.
But the wind keeps whispering over and over, still occasionally murmuring my name in between phrases I don’t comprehend.
Silas appears serious. There’s no hint of mockery in his expression. Not this time.
“I’m your mate?” I finally blurt. Panic wars with disbelief, and I feel lightheaded as I try to grasp this information and make sense of it. “How could I be your mate?” I’m human, and he’s…other. He’s a forest guardian. He’s thousands of years old and likely immortal.
He narrows his eyes on me. “The wind has never lied to me before, so it must be true. You are my gift from the gods.” He leans closer and his warm breath wafts over my face. “I must claim you, little girl. I must claim you immediately.”
Chapter Four
Silas
Kiera ceases undulating her center against my hand and stares at me in shock. Her eyes go wide, and she makes an adorable sputtering noise, as though she’s trying to talk but can’t quite form the words. It would seem my declaration that she’s my mate has rendered her speechless.
As the wind continues whispering, I feel the truth in my soul, and the urge to claim the little human becomes all-consuming. My cock throbs harder, and desire heats my blood as I focus on caressing Kiera. I alternate stroking her hair, running my hands up and down her arms, and rubbing her bare thighs. I also occasionally drag my fingers over her crotch, teasing her through the thin layer of fabric.
“Ask me to remove your undergarment, little girl,” I say in a commanding tone. “Politely. Sweetly. Say, ‘Papa, will you please remove my pantalets and stroke my bare pussy?’”
A small gasp leaves her, and her cheeks turn a lovely shade of crimson. She presses her lips together, however, and doesn’t immediately follow my orders. She tries to close her legs, but I wedge a hand in her crotch and give her a scolding look. ThenI lift my other hand and bring it down on her left thigh with a resounding smack.
She whimpers and tries to sit up, but I prevent the movement and take great pleasure in holding her down. She’s my mate. My Little girl. My beautiful captive. My gift from the gods. If she resists or fails to obey my commands, I’m within my rights to punish her, within my rights to force her compliance.
Despite her half-hearted attempts at escape, the scent of her arousal remains heavy in the air, a sweet but pungent essence that makes my mouth water. I’m ravenous to taste her, ravenous to feel her shatter on my tongue. Soon, I promise myself. Soon.
