Page 51 of A Game of Queens
A shocked gasp escapes my lips. He knows this body. He knows what I like—even though I don’t remember. How many times has he fucked me?
He touches me like heownsme.
The knowledge rattles me even more, but I can’t deny the surge of heat between my legs. Desire burns through me, and I shift restlessly. My thighs are slick with the musk of my rising desire. My core aches with a gnawing emptiness demanding to be filled.
He pinches my other nipple, and I can’t bite back a moan.
“There’s my kitten. Purr again for me, love.”
Heat suffuses my cheeks. I bite my lip, determined not to cry out again. Even if it’s a dream, it feels too real. I can’t believe I would moan like this.
Me—the woman sleeping in a crisis shelter? Or the me that came before? Does that person even exist any longer? Can he make me remember what was destroyed?
The frantic whirlpool in my head ceases when his other hand closes over my pussy. He continues to roll my nipple in surprisingly harsh fingers. Holding me firm, staking his right to touch me so intimately, he pulls me back against him. Making sure that I feel the hard, thick line of his cock against my buttocks.
Lighting me up like an overloaded circuit board.
Quivering, I taste blood in my mouth. Evidently I’ve shredded my own lip trying not to cry out again. Stupid, really. Who thought fangs were a good idea in this dream?
He chuckles against my ear, a deep, dark sound of amusement. “Who says this is a dream? Your power brought you here to me, and I intend to enjoy every single moment.”
His fingers glide deeper, circling my opening, teasing me until I shift my hips and deliberately push him into me. Even a single digit inside me makes me moan louder, my breath catching in my throat. “Is this really me?”
He works another finger into me. “All you, kitten. Take your pleasure and remember how we create magic together.”
I can’t help but twitch and move, riding his hand. Groaning as his fingers squeeze harder on my nipple. A red-hot wire shoots straight to my clit. My entire body quivers, already on the verge of climax. I can’t think of anything but coming. Getting him deeper. Filling me. I grind my pelvis on his hand, shifting my weight forward until I get the perfect pressure on my swollen clit.
Pleasure pours through me in a glorious burst of color that blinds me. Too bright after the darkness. It takes several moments for my eyes to adjust enough to actually make sense of what I’m seeing.
We’re on a circular, raised dais. I’m leaning against a table of some kind, but the light is already dimming, and I can’t see much else. He shifts me forward, lying me down on my stomachagainst the cold stone. The surface isn’t perfectly flat but has a slightly hollowed bowl that cups around my body. A place worn down over thousands of years. Of being laid down like this. A slight ledge for my knees lets me lift my ass to the perfect height to be railed from behind.
My fingers scramble across the surface, tracing over existing gouges in the stone. Where someone has raked deep claw marks.
How many times has he taken someone—me?—like this?
Something scrapes against stone as he steps closer. A distinctive sound that I can’t quite place. Not a shoe or boot. Maybe a hoof. His raw scent is thicker, animal-like and earthy. A decadent musk that’s hypnotic, soothing me even as goosebumps race down my arms. Deadly nightshade mixed with the stuff of nightmares. Yet I don’t feel the urge to run or flee.
In fact, I can’t help but arch my back, lifting my ass up in silent invitation.
He makes a low rumble deep in his chest. A growl of hunger as he plants his hands on either side of me. The tips of his fingers have long, vicious black claws. “Your pleasure tastes so good. An opium dream from which I never want to wake. I’m going to take another long, sweet pull of your bliss and take us both to oblivion.”
In the darkness, a man-beast who claims to be a god rubs the head of his cock against me, up and down the full length of my pussy. So broad and thick that I gulp and tremble with anticipation.
It dawns on me that this is not a table.
But an altar.
We’re gods the world forgot.
If he’s a god of darkness, then I must be his captive. No, that’s not the right word, but I don’t know what I am. I’m certainly no goddess. No goddess would be on her stomach, quivering andwhimpering. So turned on. I can’t bring myself to care about anything but getting him inside me.
No goddess would be asleep in a crisis shelter, unsure of where or who she is. Let alone craving blood. The taste of him on my tongue only makes me want more.
He leans down over me, his breathing a rough, guttural pant that ruffles my hair. His body radiates heat as he covers me. Such a huge, formidable weight against my back should terrify me. This creature of darkness with claws and some kind of hoof.
Yet I’m not afraid. Not here. Not with him. I’m calmer and saner than I’ve ever been.
And that shocks me more than any monstrous shape he could possibly reveal.
