Page 41 of The Librarian of Souls
He is appraising me like he does his books, taking in every part of my naked torso with keen, hungry eyes to evaluate my worth. I swallow as heat pools in my lower tummy. This should make me feel sick. If anyone in the past had looked at me this close, it would have, but when my body reacts like this for him it feels so right. Augustine inhales sharply as a smug grin stretches his mouth again. He strokes clawed fingers over his moustache and then his dark gaze flicks to my shapewear.
“Hold still,” he whispers, his features softening for a moment.
Once again, the sands sneaking up my legs suddenly shoot up my hips before arching down like a scythe. They cut through my already ruined Span and now I am completely and utterly bare to the monster, my boogeyman. Augustine’s gaze turns hard again, assessing and critical. I want him to own me as he does in my dreams. To be his pet and the object of his desires, so my only worry is pleasing him.
I am holding my breath, fighting my urges to cover up and suck it in. I don’t need to, I have never needed to, but old habits are hard to kick. Everything about Augustine’s reaction to seeing me like this tells me he wants me. He crosses his arms, taking a moment to make a turning motion with his fingers. I do as he says, twisting on the balls of my feet and squeezing my hand into fists.
He groans, a noise so pleasing and hungry that my pussy clenches. I am the one he loses control over. There is a rush of power at the thought that makes my head buzz and my stomach flutter. It’s a glorious sweetness I want to savour.
“Shall I tell you my evaluation while I devour you?” he asks, already moving. “Or should I make you sit on my cock while I list off every fine detail about you?”
“Fuck me,” I murmur, my lips parting just enough for the words to drip from my tongue.
Augustine’s smirk deepens as he takes another deep breath. He pulls my hands to his mouth and kisses the knuckles again. A fresh blush rises to my cheeks, and I bite my lip. It feels ridiculous to be blushing like a schoolgirl at that action, but I can’t stop myself. This is the most surreal experience of my life. A merging of my darkest desires that I keep locked away and the romance I have deprived myself of in real life because I was convinced it wasn’t real.
“Lie back on the bed for me, mon abeille, so I may tell you exactly what you are worth.”
I do as he says, propping myself up on my elbows to watch him. Augustine removes the last of his clothes, and I think I could be receiving this information much more effectively on my knees while worshipping him and showing him what a good pet I can be. His cock is hard and I can already see the quills surrounding it. Golden precum leaks from the slit and I want to lick clean.
He kneels at the bottom of the bed and grabs my ankle. In one swift motion, he has me completely flat, my arms raised above my head with my foot pressed to his chest. His sands circle my wrists and hold me down. The kiss he places on my ankle is tender.
“Let’s start here, I would pay the Fates a thousand souls in annual tithes for encouraging you to enter my domain and for our paths to cross that night. How I would kiss the ground you walked on if you so desired it, my queen.”
He kisses a path up to my thighs, sharp teeth scraping over the top and making me shudder with excitement.Devour me, take me, own me, bond me.
“Your thighs,” he groans, placing open-mouth kisses over the stretch marks he can see. “How the Valkyries would honour me if they were to crush me. How the Norse kings would exalt what a glorious death it would be to die between them.”
Augustine kisses the crease of my hip and stomach, moving up across the wide plain to my other hip. My breath stutters in my chest as I watch him move. His spines sway and his golden hair glows in the low light. When his eyes catch my gaze again, they shine like the sun, bright and warm.
“How the great sculptors of old would have worshipped you, mon abeille, how Michelangelo would have carved the most jaw-dropping statues of you. How he would have transformed marble to match your softness. How the Medicis would have commissioned hundreds of works in your honour.”
His moustache tickles my stomach as he moves higher. His tongue teases one nipple while his sands pinch the other. Augustine’s hands dig into my hips as he raises me to him. My pussy rubs against his cock, quills teasing my folds and clit. Slick drips out of me at the friction and I moan.
“Mon abeille, the price of you does not exist. Kings would go to war, goddesses would steal you away, and still, they would have to worship your beauty and pray to one day be worth a moment of your time.”
Augustine rises to my face, kissing my nose and cheek before resting his forehead against mine. He takes a shuddering breath and I think this is it. He is finally going to fuck me. My body is wound tight with anticipation and my hips rock against his, reminding him how much I want it. How I need him to fuck me.
“Yet all those things are nothing compared to your soul, mon abeille. How it tastes, how it holds your emotions with such divinity. Your body, for all its perfection, is a vessel for what is most true. The goodness inside you that tastes of the heavens and joy that makes me want to do horrible, devilish things to you until you can think of nothing but me.”
Tears prick in my eyes. This honesty is more than I expected. Augustine isn’t lying to me and I am not sure I can face this truth. My lips tremble against his as I reach to kiss him.
“When I look at you, I feel alive,” I tell him, a brutal honesty in my voice I almost don’t recognise. “I have wanted you for months, thinking it was just a dream, and in two weeks you have made almost everything come true. Please, Augustine-”
I can’t get the rest of the words out. My body is burning with need and words are getting lost in the thickness of my emotions. He can spend the rest of eternity unravelling them, plucking them from my mouth, but right now, I need more than words.
Augustine lifts my hips off the bed and thrusts into me in one full stroke. His cock is thick and the quills that run the length of it spark every nerve in my pussy. The air punches from my lungs, and I’m drowning in the overwhelming sensation of fullness. He presses his whole body into me. Sand drips from him, caressing my body where his hands aren’t.
He slips from English to French nonsensically, his lips bumping against mine in a taunting motion. Claws dig into my ass as he moves, grinding my clit against his pelvis rather than pulling out of me, like he can’t bear the thought of leaving me for even a second. It feels so good, but I know he can do more. I know exactly what he can do with the right encouragement.
“Augustine,” I moan, trying my hardest to be sultry, to be in charge for even a moment. “Is this how you worship your queen?”
I have never been anything, but mostly I have never been a dominant, an alpha, A-Type, or a go-getter person. But when Augustine whimpers, with his eyes squeezed shut and his hips still grinding into mine, I feel some part of me open up. Like I am the queen he sees me as.
“Prove to me.” I swallow a moan as his sands twist around my nipples. “Prove you know what I am worth, that you are worthy of me.”
“Mon abeille,” he draws out the words, lifting his upper body up enough to look into my eyes. I stare into his golden eyes, let the heat in his gaze turn me syrupy sweet and melt deeper into his bed. “I will spend eternity showing you I am worthy of you.”
He shifts his weight and moves my thighs higher up, pulling one up to his shoulder in a stretch that burns my muscles, but drives his cock deliciously deeper inside me. Augustine looks from my eyes to where our bodies are joined. He pulls his cock out slowly, and for the first time ever, I hear him curse.
