Page 52 of Of Gods and Pain

“Em,” my voice sounds needy and desperate.

My breast pops out of his mouth, and he looks up at me, searching my eyes. He nods, lifting me up so that his cock brushes my entrance.

“Take what you need, love.”

I don’t know how he understands what I was asking without words, but I can’t think about it. I sink down on his length, screaming at the burning pleasure that overtakes every sense I possess. He captures my mouth and I bite his lip hard enough to taste blood, moaning as I lick him clean.

I ride him like it’s my job, and he does nothing but hold and kiss me, allowing me to control every action.

I didn’t realize how much I needed this. To make this choice and take back the power that was ripped from my already withering spirit.

Our foreheads press together, sweat combining and sliding down our skin. I hold on to his face, never again ready to let go. He’s mine. They’re both mine.

“Oh gods,” I moan when I angle myself slightly. He slips a hand between us, flattening his palm so that my clit grinds against his fingers with every roll of my hips. He catches the cry of pleasure that escapes me, breathing in every drop of air leaving my lungs.

“That’s it. Your walls are quivering, love; now I need you to let go,” his breath skates over my collarbone. “Come,” he demands, pulling me down hard onto him. The movement sends me over the edge, screaming his name as I clench around his length.

Fuck, this is so much more intense than I remember.

His release follows, warming me from the inside, and my eyes roll at the guttural moan that rises from his chest. I lower my head to his shoulder, wrapping my arms fully around him. I feel him dripping from me onto his thighs, though I don’t think either of us cares at the moment.

He grips my back, forcing my abdomen flush with his; I don’t know where the tears come from, but I cry again. He doesn’t say anything. Just holds me, giving me the pressure he knows helps ground my overstimulated mind.

I needed this so badly. To feel him. To remind myself that there’s two incredibly kind, but insufferable, fae males who love me and would do anything for me.

I love them so much. I want us all to be connected again.

I need it.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Casmir

Jumbled words stare back at me from the papers Leia needs me to sign. Something about new business requests throughout Anloria.

But I can’t focus.

I felt her. Them.

Her loss of control hit me hard; I jumped up to find her, but Em insisted I wait. He’d finally gotten through to her. The connection between us all has calmed a bit, no longer the twisted piece of thread that I couldn’t navigate. Now, I can sense her desire; her intentions.

Nell’s focus was on Emrys for a while; the radiating emotions from their joining was so overwhelming that I broke skin on my hand as I bit it, trying to let them have this moment together. I want nothing more than to be there for her, but she needed him then.

And now she needs me.

The bond between us grows brighter the closer she is, and the effort I need to stay seated and not run to find her is taking all my attention away from what I should be doing.

Normally I would be frustrated with myself for being distracted, but I can’t find one drop of care within me. She is more important than anything on my desk. She will always come first.

I suppose that means I don’t deserve to be the prince; it’s the same reason Nell insisted she couldn’t complete the bond with Em and me. Because my priority is no longer my people and city…it’s them. Warmth seeps through the thumping in my chest at the thought.

My head snaps up at the light knock on my study door. My soul bond gives me a small smile as she steps inside wearing…just my shirt, apparently. I bite my lip. It hits her upper thigh, not doing a great job of covering anything. My eyes narrow, wondering if any of the staff walked by her like this.

She steps towards me quietly, biting the inside of her cheek. Her grey eyes shift as she moves, taking in my space. I should have organized before she made it here…

She stops at the side of my desk, several inches too far from me, and each ounce of breath in my lungs dissipates.

There’s life in her eyes. It’s not much, but more than I’ve seen since Xamira rescued her. Her muscles appear less tense, and I send a silent thank you to the other gods that the color to her irresistible skin is returning. The light from the window behind me carves an unbearable sculpture of her features, highlighting her very essence.

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