Page 67 of Vicar
“I promised you something?” she teased, a little bit of both her personalities if he didn’t know better. “Or did I just say whatever it would take to get you out from under the influence of Alfheim leaves?”
“You said what you meant.” He grabbed her ass and pulled her tight against his throbbing arousal. “And I intend to make sure you get it.”
When she trailed a nail down the side of his neck and licked her lips, he was certain both sides of her were enjoying this. As was his other half when he spun her, chanted away her clothes, and forced her to grip the wall. While intrigued by the rainbow-like water trailing over her arms and misting her soft skin, he was more captivated and aroused by the feel of her rounded backside against his cock. By how she rubbed against him in a way that beyond dared him.
“You’re not entirely yourself right now, are you?” he murmured in her ear. “But I wonder,” he caught her chin and kissed her hard before he met her half-mast eyes, “how much unlike yourself,areyou?”
“I wondered the same about you.” Her gaze went from sweet to bold, from normal to Múspellsheimr as she pressed back against him. Pushed him away just enough to see what he would do. “Which Vicarareyou...or are you both?”
Though tempted to ask her which she would prefer, there was no need.
She wanted both.
The love and lust. The safety and lack of control.
So he did away with the remainder of his clothing and gave her what she needed.
Whatheneeded.
“Keep your hands where they are,” he demanded. “And spread your legs. Offer me what’s mine to take.”
When she shook her head, he wrapped his hand around her throat and warned her the way her other half liked. “Do it now, or I’ll make this hell for you.”
He would, too. He’d keep her under his control and on the edge of release all night. Perhaps he’d never even let her peak.
“You say that,” she mocked. “But you—”
Before she could finish her sentence, he put one hand over her mouth and the other where he could torture her best. He might need his cock in her like a man needed to eat and breathe, but he would suffer if it meant her suffering too. If it meant pushing her to the point she broke down in tears, whimpering and pleading.
Trinity groaned in approval when he manipulated her soft, hot flesh the way she liked. Two fingers deep inside while he worked the tiny nub at the apex of her pleasure.
“You’re ruthless,” she managed on a weak whisper. “But so am I.”
He met her groan when she rubbed her backside along his shaft just right. When she showed him she could torture him every bit as much as he could torture her. Their bodies grew slick with their growing passion as they moved against each other. As he wound her up but wouldn’t let her over any more than she would him.
“Let me,” she ground out. Pleaded. Her body shook against his. Her legs barely held her up, and his weren’t much better. Feeling her tight, soaked sheath with his fingers and her warm ass with his cock was a brutal combination.
As it turned out, too much of one because holding back became impossible.
He gripped her hips hard and thrust deep where his fingers had just been. Thrust so hard that she yelped in painful pleasure then gasped when he pressed deeper still. When he tortured her with how much he could fill her. How much sensation he could wring from her.
He sensed for a moment she was going to relent, let him have his way, but her Múspellsheimr side fought back, shoving against him hard. In turn, his Múspellsheimr half was tempted to shove her front against the water-ridden rock, lock her in place and take her until it hurt so bad she cried for release.
Yet his Sigdir side still had the upper hand.
A side that wasn’t much more merciful at this point.
He spun her, hoisted her against the wall, and gave her no choice but to slide back down on him. No choice but to take all of him until he was finished with her. While his Sigdir side was determined she found pleasure first, his Múspellsheimr side preferred to torture her. To make her pay for her insolence.
In the end, there was no way to know who held the upper hand as he thrust again and again. Long, hard strokes mixed with slow swirls, then very little movement at all. Just pure feeling. Throbbing, pent-up flesh. Screaming highs and brutal lows.
His Sigdir side wanted to feel her release.
His Múspellsheimr side was determined to make her suffer.
“Vicar,” she moaned, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist. She dug her nails into his shoulders until she drew blood. “We can’t go on like this. We can’t...it hurts...”
He more than understood. They were at the whim of four personalities. Four push and pulls. Four heads with different goals. Four minds that had never found peace.
