Page 10 of The Goddesses' Gifts

I shoved him against the wall. He gasped when I pinned him there with my body, arms caging him in, though I knew he wouldn’t fight no matter my intentions. “You’re pathetic,” I hissed before crushing my lips against his, parting them with my tongue and explored his mouth. His little moan of pleasure vibrated through me, rekindling my arousal and thoughts of the woman just down the corridor. I licked the place on Rhemvile’s lips where her scar would be before I pulled back to look at him again. The worry in his eyes melted away to relief and gradually gave way to excitement. His whispered “yes” was little more than a breath against my cheek.

“Rhemvile, I’ve been gone for weeks,” I said, the words breathy and quiet. “What else would I have dragged you down here for?” Then my eyes caught on his plump lips, flushed a pleasant shade of lavender. I lifted a hand and brushed my fingertips over the soft skin there, indenting them with the slightest pressure. Oh, gods, they were so, so soft. So pliant, like the man they belonged to. My index finger lingered in place, while I drank in the complex scents overlaying his own light musk. Sunlight, autumn leaves, and earth from his long day outside the walls of this hell.

Rhemvile parted his lips and, with a trembling breath, tentatively licked the finger I held there. He raised a hand, clasped my wrist delicately and guided my finger into his mouth, wrapping it in wet heat. Gentle suction and the light touch of his other hand against the strained fabric of my trousers made me sigh and press into his touch, grinding against his palm. After a decade of being mine, he knew what I liked … and I hated it. He bit down ever so slightly on my finger and smiled around it, teasing me. Because, simple as Rhemvile was, he still understood what he was doing to me. I ground my teeth, grabbed his groping hand, and pressed it even harder against my cock.

I jerked my hand away from his lips with a sneer and pinched the hardened nipple beneath the cotton wrap-around blouse he wore. He hissed and grimaced, though he didn’t stop groping, bringing his other hand to undo the buttons of my trousers. I gave him space to do it while unfastening the clasp that held the shirt belted around his waist, tugging it open and out of his pants. He had few scars on his front from his misadventures on patrol, but it was the patch of hair he had down his midsection that I found fascinating—another human characteristic. I ran my fingers through the hair that trailed down his muscled abdomen and he twitched pleasantly under my touch. He only flinched when I trapped the last little bit above the waistband of his pants between my fingers and gave it a little tug.

His hand hesitated at the waistband of my undershorts. “Zel …” he started to say my name, but I gave him a warning glance. There were very few circumstances that I’d allow him to do that, and this wasn’t one of them. “I’m sorry. I … don’t like it when you pull that hair. It hurts.” Which I knew. There were many, many things I could do to hurt him that would only provoke his lust. But his body hair was a sensitive subject. The hurt he spoke of wasn’t of a physical nature, but he was making me feel things I didn’t want to feel either.

“I don’t like it when you taunt me,” I snorted and undid the first button on his trousers. “I don’t like it when you presume to know what I want you to do,” I bit out in a low, quiet warning. “I don’t like it when,” I cut my words short, realizing my temper was about to reveal more than it ought to. There was nowhere safe here to utter such thoughts without being heard. “I don’t like it when you think, Rhemvile. Don’t think. Don’t try to please me. Just let me do.”

He dropped his eyes and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

I undid the rest of his buttons and rifled through his pockets for the oily salve he kept on hand only to find his cock deflating beneath my fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Maybe if you give me a few minutes?”

Damn it. This wasn’t the first time that chastising him had left me in a lurch. And unlike my older cousin, I preferred willingness … and enthusiasm, though I discouraged it. My own arousal waned.

I slid my fingers through the messy curls on the back of his head and pulled him close, resting my forehead against his and felt the heat of embarrassment radiating from his cheeks. With the flick of a hand, I summoned silence, thought I knew it would draw attention. Anyone that knew him would assume a meeting with Rhemvile would not be one of intrigue. Dulanzo would likely write it off if he noticed. “My words were too sharp,” I muttered. “This is not your fault, Rhem.”

He nodded slightly but said nothing.

I kissed his forehead then fixed his blouse, securing the wrap, tucking it into his pants and buttoning them back up. He glanced up at me occasionally, but I kept my face neutral. There would be nothing there for him to glean. Which was safest.

Of all the days he needed reminding of his place …

“Go back to what you’re supposed to be doing,” I grumbled, excusing him from our impromptu encounter. “I’ll find you another day.”

Rhemvile hesitated a moment, and appeared to lean toward me, but took a step back instead. “Y-yes sir,” he said before turning to walk away.

I sighed, aggravated with myself for not reacting differently. Though my cock was no longer begging for attention, I still couldn’t keep my twisted, traitorous mind off the woman and her fucking amazing lips. Then it betrayed me further by picturing Rhemvile drawing her in to a heated kiss. Gods, he’d never had a female before. Would he even want to? There was a very depraved part of me that wanted to find out just so I could watch them. My breath caught as I imagined it, overwhelmed by the delicious beauty of the two halfies coming together. How he would suckle her tits and clit, his chin glistening with the evidence of her lust. The way her lips would wrap around the broad head of his cock and slide down the shaft, her heated eyes locked on mine, challenging me to join …

And I found myself back where I’d started, painfully hard in the empty corridor of the prison wing. I swore under my breath while unlocking the nearest empty cell and sat on the edge of the cot within. I finished freeing my cock and slathered it with the salve that I’d forgotten to give back to Rhemvile, stroking the shaft with no intention of prolonging the experience. But I was sweating before long, panting, imagining her riding his tongue, facing me while I fucked his tight little ass. I could easily picture the ecstasy on her upturned face shifting in intensity when I pinched her nipples. How would she taste when I leaned in to explore her mouth, my fingers twisted in her hair to keep her from pulling away? Then I’d guide her mouth to Rhemvile’s cock. “Take him in,” I’d order, and she’d give me that defiant little grin on her way down. With my grasp still firm in her hair, I’d drive the pace, making her gag on him before yanking her back up to sample her now swollen lips—to taste and smell his musk on them. When I pushed her down again, it would be to make him cum. I’d drive her head rough and relentless until his hips rocked and sang out his pleasure against her cunt. Then I’d pull her back up to me, gentler this time, and that mischievously defiant little grin would be there. “Rhemvile,” I’d say, while giving her a sly smile in return, “pull her hips against you and suck on that clit until she screams.” She’d inhale through her nose when his arms lock over her thighs and tremble while I plowed into him, his spent cock rolling across his belly with every thrust. And I’d hold her there in front of me to watch her mouth until she relented to pleasure and opened it to release a loud, shuddering moan … and drizzle her mouthful Rhemvile’s seed onto his stomach. I’d known she’d try to spit it into my mouth and I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of thinking she could outsmart me. Only then did I slam my lips against hers.

I came in a series animalistic grunts that rolled up from my center. Thick ropes of seed splattered to the stone at my feet. Spurt after spurt after spurt. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cum quite that much.

When I flopped back on the cot to catch my breath, I accepted something I’d been denying for a very long time. My interest in half-elves with their sinful lips and body hair had become a full-blown obsession. And if I wasn’t careful, it would ruin everything.

CHAPTER 5

OZANNA

Isnapped my fingers and conjured light while recalling marketplaces. With nothing else to do, I’d just been practicing my fairy light the way Lobikno had encouraged and daydreaming of the bright, noisy world I knew and loved. Marketplaces were a distilled example of everything I missed; bright colors, the bustling noisy crowds, and the smells, good and bad, that came along with it. Food, unwashed bodies, colorful pottery, culturally significant trinkets that varied region to region, the echo of unfamiliar languages, music, dogs that barked in the street and the squeal of children at play were all part of that lively tapestry.

All this time in the dark had been good for my light, as much as I hated to admit it. Zelfek’s refusal to simply provide some forced me to rely on my own. I didn’t need it as often since the sparse room was getting easier to navigate in the dark, but my little candle glow lasted longer now and appeared much more stable.

I was distracted enough by my own musings that I didn’t realize anyone was coming until the door opened. An unfamiliar soldier came into my prison and sighed unhappily at the light flickering at the end of my finger. He grumbled in his tongue and approached where I lounged in bed. I held the light between us, not just to be an ass. I needed to see his face and body language. There were tired green eyes over dirt streaked, gray cheeks, the scent of autumn leaves clung to his leathers. Perhaps he’d just returned from some work outside. I closed my eyes and tried to subtly take the pleasant, familiar scent deeper. It stirred memories of cool air and warm sunlight on my face. The crunch of leaves under my feet and the sound of a gentle chill breeze stirring them. A curious tension let out of my neck and shoulders that I hadn’t been aware of. Was the absence of this place so hard on me that just the tangible scent on someone’s clothes have that much of an effect on me?

I moved to sit up and get to my feet, but the elf looming above me raised a hand to stop me.

“Be still, woman,” he said, his accent so thick I could hardly understand him. “I was sent to care for the child.”

I shook my head. “I want Zelfek to do that.”

“It is he who sent me.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you want your child or not?” he asked as if the answer wouldn’t bother him one way or the other. Like he was prepared to turn around and leave.

I searched his face for even an inkling of ill intent but could find none. Just impatience and weariness. And what would I do if he tried to hurt me? As a male, he was stronger than me even at my best. Would it be more prudent to take the chance that he might do the job and leave without making me waste my energy on a fight?

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