Page 14 of The Bone King and the Starling

I nod.

“Gods.” He leans in and presses his mouth to my temple. Vaguely, through the roaring wave of conflicting pains andpleasures that assail me as his fingers start to move at a perilously fast speed and his shallow thrusts, too, move faster and faster, I hear him say, “Raya, I owe you a second sacrifice for this.” He speaks to the goddess of soft things, the one males like him are not meant to worship. Males like him speak to the gods of war and mayhem, debauchery and lust and I know that it is to Lohr, that lustful god, that I offer my thanks in this moment.

My face twists. Euphoria comes for me again. I grab for him anywhere I can, wanting to batten myself down as I prepare to wade through the storm. My hand hits his wrist. I grab onto it, clutching it for dear life as a dizzying wave of need cuts through the rougher sensations rumbling through me.

“Calai…King Calai,” I correct in my desperation. “Please…”

“Please what, little bird? Tell me. What do you need from me?”

A warbling sound chokes my throat and I all but scream. “Let me come for you. Please…” My head hangs in defeat. “Take me.”

He roars out a battle cry and starts to slam into my body in earnest. The feeling of my body gripping his cock is salacious and wonderful, his girth filling me up like a fist. I am so wet, his penis moves through my body easily despite my inner muscles straining around him, fighting him out no longer, but welcoming him in.

One of his hands on my breast squeezes and the other between my legs flicks wildly and roughly until I fall apart in his arms. I orgasm for the second time in my entire life, for him, the waves of pleasure something I couldn’t fathom getting used to.

The pressure zings through me, harder and longer than it did the last time. I scream — scream — the sound more animal than woman. I’m vaguely aware of a slighter, softer pain as my core clenches and releases in spasms around his length without me meaning for it too. I worry he doesn’t enjoy it when he groans and curses even louder. He leans over me and bites down onto my shoulder. I buckle and before I can regain strength enoughto support my own weight, his thrusts lose their rhythm and he collapses.

We crash into the bath, water sloshing over its smooth edge. He lands on his knees with me still on top of him, my body still impaled on his erection. One of his hands clutches my hip bruisingly, the other arm still lining the front of my body, that hand wrapped around my throat.

He makes a sound twice as loud as I did and a thousand times more animalistic as his body goes tight and hard beneath me. “Mercy,” he says, roaring the word up into the sky, “Teffina, thank you for this.” He calls out to the goddess of pleasure and love, another goddess whose name I am surprised to hear leave his lips.

His thrusts are hard and powerful, the seat of my behind crushed against his lap as he hammers into me three, two…one final time. His hands are clenched and when I hazard a glance over my shoulder, it’s to see that his eyes have rolled back. He looks like a male possessed.

He releases one final primal cry before crushing me to his body like he wants to keep me so close I absorb into his skin. His fingers are like crude, blunted claws where they clutch me, and I know they’ll leave bruises visible tomorrow…cruel reminders that will linger days after he’s gone, taking with him all of his power, all of this magic.

“Lohr take me,” he whispers again as he pulls me tight into his chest. His hips jerk upwards, my whole body jolting with each spasm. This goes on for some time, the king holding me tighter and tighter until I can hardly breathe.

And I don’t mind.

Tears press against my eyelids, demanding sacrifice. “Thank you,” I say to no one, to everything. I’ve never felt like this before and it’s a terrible feeling. This fear that leaves me shaking. This hope that will leave me crushed. This brief lapse in time wherethe gods have decided to show me what it is like to truly be wanted is too much.

The king’s beard is rough against my cheek. “You are too exquisite for this world.” His voice is a dark threat and an utter contrast to his words. His hand finds my breast and fondles it absently. His other hand cups my jaw, his thumb feathering gently over my lips.

“You please me so well, little bird.” His voice is the rumble of a storm. “I’ve scant desire to leave your warmth.” His hand hooks around my body and feels between my legs. I stiffen. “I don’t intend to.”

He begins massaging the back of my neck, his thumbs hard and powerful against my nape. It feels so good. So fucking good. I moan audibly.

“Gods,” he groans. “The sounds you make.” His hand tightens around my throat and his fingers between my legs start to move faster. “You make even the most inexperienced male believe himself a god to women.” He chuckles against my cheek. “If I didn’t have your virginity smeared across my cock right now, I’d have guessed you very experienced in this.”

I shiver.

He bites my cheek, nipping at my skin hard enough to worry he truly does intend to devour me. And then he lifts his hand from my abused mound, where he’s feeling along the seam where his cock disappears inside of my body. “You’re bleeding a little, my love.” I tense at the term of affection, feeling slightly betrayed by it. He shouldn’t call me such things. And I must remind myself that, despite what he says to me, he is the experienced one and he knows what to say to please. “Do you need a break?”

He rubs his fingers together and I see the clear liquid smeared over the whorls of his fingertips is, indeed, tinted pink. “Yes,Your Highness.” I nod, needing a break more from his words than from the movement of his body.

His fingertips slow over my sex again and his other hand releases my throat. “Give me a moment,” he says in a murmur, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “Eghh,” he moans, making a deep, guttural sound in the back of his throat as he slowly lifts my body off of his lap.

I wince as his length leaves my heat, leaving behind a gaping hole inside of me. I mewl. “Shh,” he whispers and gathers me to his chest. I’m grateful for it, for my own legs provide all the support of splinters.

“Come to me, little bird.” He leans against the back of the tub and pulls me against his chest, my back to his front. The water comes up to cover my breasts and I sink into its warmth, and the greater warmth of the male behind me. I try not to focus entirely on the feeling of his legs parted around my lower back and the brush of his softening cock and the hair that shrouds it pressing against me, and press against me it does. He’s still…thrusting…and it’s affecting my thoughts.

“Relax. You’ve done so well, taking me like you have.” He pulls my hair over my shoulder and coaxes me into looking up at him. He’s so close.

His lids are hooded and he smiles at me and it’s a frightening thing only because it feels so intimate. I can imagine that this is not a male who smiles often. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve him sharing one such smile with me.

I blush. My face burns and he chuckles, the sound causing his entire chest to vibrate, me along with it. “You are…” He looks me over, eyes on my forehead, hairline, nose, lips… He rubs his face roughly and laughs and I flinch. The sound is shocking because it’s so loud, so unabashed and so pleasant. I’m embarrassed. And I’m sore. I can feel the tingling in my lower half telling me that I will see bruises when I arrive before a mirror.

“You need not cower from me. I will not hurt you.” He seems so sincere but I don’t understand why. I am nothing more than a whore he’s paid for for the night. Maybe, a whore he won’t even pay at all.

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