Page 45 of Mortal Desires

“You forget yourself. You’re here to serve me.”

I rose, my chest pressed against his and he huffed like a bull. I licked his ear and whispered, “When I come, I’m going to strangle your cock. Make me come, Vicious.”

He growled against my neck like an uncaged animal preparing for the final hunt. His animalistic self enhanced the experience but I couldn’t let myself think about that.

His teeth scraped my neck at the same time his thumb found my clit. He teased me and I spasmed, lost in him. I barely noticed when his teeth pressed deeper into my neck.

I swallowed several curses, let out a scream, and then I came as I promised, squeezing him so hard he had no alternative but to follow me into bliss. His teeth sank further, the pain when he broke my skin mixed with my pleasure and I lost myself.

I felt his warm seed fill me and drip between my legs. Without another word he took me into his arms, not even covering himself first.

My hands laced around his thick neck, feeling the dampness of his skin. His eyes were wild, darting around the whole room like he was looking for enemies like we were in the middle of a war.

He marched us out of the throne room, and I rested my head on his chest, feeling his heart beating just as fast as my own.

I promised to look where we were going, but instead, I watched Vicious’ hard face as he carried me around the palace.

I never had sex like that. Not that I was very experienced. I liked people before. A boy at school, we kissed a couple of times. I lost my virginity with a girl and we dated for six months before she transferred colleges. Then I had a serious relationship with a guy during my senior year.

I slept with two people in my life and it wasn’t for lack of trying. While I knew about the Morales’ curse and I understood I couldn’t trust anyone, they both had been humans and knew nothing about my family. That helped.

Something was always missing, though.

It wasn’t trust, because I obviously didn’t trust Vicious. It wasn’t love, because we hated each other.

I couldn’t put a finger on it, but something between us made me curious. Bessie told me not to judge myself and she was right.

I spent my whole life quiet because the spirits were louder. I was never alone, never in a position to be myself.

Maybe I was so focused on what it meant to be here that I forgot the most important detail.

I wasn’t the girl who spoke with the dead anymore.

They weren’t talking over me, trying to get me to do their bidding. I wasn’t constantly overwhelmed when they looked disoriented or when they were hanging out around my gynecologist’s office and I couldn’t have a pap smear in peace.

Everyone in my life thought I was someone else. Even my sisters. They thought I was quiet, fragile Pilar who always looked over their shoulders and talked with people who aren’t there.

But here?

I was my own person. Whatever happened between us, it gave me the best orgasm of my life.

So maybe I was a monster fucker.

Oh god, that was totally it. I tried boys and girls, but I only got off with monsters.

Let’s not unpack that just yet.

Vicious kicked his door open, placing me on his four-post bed with more care than I thought he was capable of.

“Very royal,” I mocked.

It wasn’t my first time here, but I couldn’t stop myself from looking around. Vicious was ostentatious—golden accents, crystal chandeliers with dripping candles, and a silk bedspread.

He grunted, crossed the bedroom, and washed his hands in a basin before he turned back to me. His eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong with you?”

I leaned back on my arms and dangled my legs off the bed. “Nothing is wrong. Anything wrong with you?”

“Witch…” He shook his head.

---