Page 42 of Sequel to the Easter Bunny

Diyo takes my hand, pressing a chaste kiss to my knuckles, the soft skin over my pulse… the inside of my elbow.

They glance at Jack once, as if they expect him to come forward and snatch me away. But when he doesn’t, their full attention returns to me and they offer me a smile that’s too sweet to trust.

“He doesn’t want to share you, pet. He’ll let you do whatever you want, but he’d rather send me back to my party and do depraved things to you all on his own.” Maybe that’s what Diyo wants.

“But that’s not what you’re going to do.” I don’t pose it as a question as I trail my hand down the swell of their small breasts, making them flinch when I pinch their nipple.

“No god in their right mind would give up a chance to play with a woman who holds the Power.”

“It doesn’t work here.”

“No?” They rise to their hooves, turning me to face Jack, still on the swing. “But we can all feel it.”

“His mothers favour him, because they mistake their power struggle for something akin to mortal love. But I ask you,” Diyo leaves the question to hang in the air around us, pressing warm kisses to my shoulder, to my neck. Their teeth graze over my skin. Their whisper is a rasp against my ear. “Is it love if it can’t be killed?”

Jack’s muscles tense at that last word, but I know it’s not a threat. I wouldn’t be surprised if Diyo didn’t mean half of the things they mused.

“Maybe one day, you’ll find out.”

“But not with you, pet.” They slip the clasp of the toga free, and the fabric slithers to the ground. “Human love might be infinite in possibility, but I don’t think you have any of it to spare for me.”

“You wouldn’t return it.”

They chuckle as their hands trace down my sides, and I know they’re not offended by the truth.

Their fingers play over me, exploring my skin, as if he’d like to memorise the shape of me for later.

They leave behind little trails like faint electricity beneath my skin. Fizzing like popping candy, or sweet champagne. The soft brush over my nipples makes me shiver, a shattered breath leaving me.

I don’t know better, so I’d guess the god of pleasure and excess could very easily make me feel drunk without alcohol ever passing over my lips.

Jack’s cock twitches beneath the white fabric that covers him and I wish I was closer. I want to reach out. To uncover him, and play with him as Diyo toys with me.

I don’t care if the heady sensation I feel is a fiction of Diyo’s magic. I want more.

Those falling stars flutter close, swirling around us and hazing my vision. Or maybe that’s Diyo.

Even if I wanted to—and I don’t—I couldn’t stop myself from arching toward their hand as it pulls away.

“My, my,” they tsk at me and then pinch my nipple hard enough I cry out. “What a needy little mortal.”

Their hand slides down my stomach and they pull me back against them.

Diyo is hard behind me. Their cock pressed to my back, heavy and thick against my spine.

“I would desperately love to feel those pretty lips on my cock. Will you oblige?”

Before I can say yes, they add, “Or….”

And I wait for their other option. “I would positively gush at the idea of your tongue in my pussy.”

Of course the god of indulgence would have both.

Of course they would have the ability to give and take that pleasure by any means they wished.

I turn, eyes locked with theirs, and when I take their hands, lowering myself to the ground, their smile is so bright, little green moths congregate around their head.

My knees sink in the soft moss and clover.

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