Page 84 of The Deathless One
The words caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure what to ask him or what he wanted to hear.
He leaned down and sucked on her clit, hard enough to make her arch into him and for her to clench desperately around nothing. He released her with a slick sound before snarling, “I want to hear all the filthy words from that pretty mouth, princess. Tell me exactly what you want.”
A flare of anger and defiance burned in her chest. “I want you to stick your tongue in me and make me come like the monstrous god you are.”
There was a low moan before he did exactly as she asked. She was filled, not with his tongue, but with two thick, scarred fingers that speared inside of her and scissored. He hit something deep within her that no one had ever hit before, and she froze, holding her breath as though her body knew something wondrous was about to happen.
Then he latched onto her clit as he had before, sucking hard while swirling his tongue in a firm circle that had her plummeting, coming so hard it almost hurt as she clenched down around his fingers and cried out as she never would have, as a princess should not even imagine doing.
He stayed with her through all of it, moving his fingers gently now, spiraling her down from the orgasm, which seemed to go on and on because he was a master at playing her body.
And when he loosed his bonds of dark magic, she slumped on that throne, panting and dripping with sweat. Only then did he let the blindfold fall from her eyes. She stared down at her own body, a foreign creature now that she knew it could do that, and saw him.
He grinned up at her wolfishly, his lips slick with her wetness as he moved his fingers in and out of her, the shallow movements somehow still sending shock waves of pleasure pinching through her form. It was madness that they had done this, but she never wanted to see anyone else between her thighs.
And gods, she had hooked her leg around his neck. She hadn’t even realized that she was holding on to him for dear life, one leg around his neck and the other spread wide by his hand.
“How pretty you look, undone by my hand.” He licked his lips, eyes rolling back. “And the flavor of you, nightmare. That is not one I am ever likely to forget.”
“Happy to please,” she whispered, still stunned at the sight of a god kneeling between her legs.
“Oh, you very much pleased me. Now rest, my darling and divine.”
“You don’t want to—”
He interrupted her. “I do what I want, nightmare, and soon I will indulge myself in your body. But only when I have a physical form to take you with. Sleep. You’ll need your rest for what I intend to do with you.”
She drifted away from his realm, back to her body, which did indeed need rest. But his words lingered in her mind. He wanted a physical form, so they could really touch. And she realized she desperately wanted that as well.
He could still taste her on his tongue, and she tasted like ambrosia. Elric found himself licking his lips constantly, a reminder of what they had done. But of course, it wasn’t the same as the real thing. In his realm, everything was dulled.
It was the reason he’d refused to finish the job. He couldn’t. How could she expect him to enjoy this feast of the most divine nature right in front of him, knowing that this realm dulled his senses? That nothing was as good if he didn’t have a real body? She tortured him by coming here, and he was the fool who could deny her nothing.
He wanted to feel her. Actually feel how warm she was, how good she felt in his hands. He wanted to know the full extent of her flavor and the sound of her cries not muffled by dark magic. But most of all, Elric wanted to focus on her and nothing else while there were no curses pulling at him. No lingering gravesingers with whom he’d done this before, with so many other witches as a way to control them or for them to control him, and surely she felt tainted withhistongue buried so deep inside her?
He was a monster who had feasted upon her flesh. A monster who wanted her to see him as a man.
Sighing, he walked through his dark realm and waited for her to call upon him. He had enough power to go to her, but the stronger their connection grew, the more that felt as though he was violating her privacy. She hadn’t summoned him in a few days, and that was an issue. What if something had happened? Surely he would have felt her pain, like hehad before. But she hadn’t gone this long in months without summoning him.
And then the gravesingers started whispering from their chains.She got what she wanted out of you. No witch can ever truly be trusted.He knew that better than most.
She’d wanted pleasure, or perhaps to discover what it was like to lie with a god. She had weighed and measured his talents, and then she had found him lacking.
He should have cut out their tongues when he bound them. But those dark thoughts boiled through him as he waited. Because he always waited. For her, he would wait a century, and yet it would forever sting as well. What if she wanted nothing to do with him now? What if he had read her completely and utterly wrong?
So when he felt the tug between them, a call from his nightmare to him, he answered so fast it made him dizzy. Struggling to stand, he forced himself to wear a mask of indifference. He needed her to think that he didn’t care. Nothing she could do would impact him, certainly not. He was a god, and he was not hung up on a little mortal witch who was nothing more than a beautiful tool, albeit more a witch’s knife than a blunt and boring hammer.
He expected her to say that what they had done was wrong. That she had thought more about his past and what he had told her, and that she was disgusted by him.
But instead, he found himself standing before her in the middle of the public baths. No one else was here. Why would they be? It was the middle of the night, and the air made little clouds every time she exhaled. She stood in the moonlight, half-dressed just outside a pool that would normally be full of people, but tonight it was so cold ice formed at its edges.
And this witch, this princess, didn’t hesitate to drag an ice-cold wet cloth over her bare legs. She didn’t flinch or complain, she just accepted her fate and took the bitter sting.
She looked so beautiful standing there in nothing but her shirt skimming her thighs, with her hair cascading down her shoulders, unbound and wild as he liked it. The moonlight caressed her features, all that bare skinso tempting, even though he didn’t know where he stood with her. What if she didn’t want to see him? What if this was all some terrible meeting where she would finally admit that their experience had meant nothing?
But Jessamine didn’t even look at him. She just kept washing her legs and quietly said, “You realize that we’re distracting each other?”
His stomach sank. “I do.”
