The Thornfather lay before her, massive and unmoving, though his chest rose and fell in deep, steady breaths. The bark of his body had softened in places, but he was still something out of myth. Ancient. Powerful. And unapologetically naked.
Her eyes drifted down his vast form and thenstutteredas they hit the space between his thighs.
“Oh… okay,” she whispered, voice thin.
Wetness bloomed hot and immediate between her legs. His enormous cock lay heavy against his thigh. It was thick and ridged, more root than flesh, its bark-like surface traced with faint, glowing lines like sap veins. Not hard with desire, but still undeniablyalive. Faint pulses shimmered under the surface. The head of it was flared and slightly tapered, crowned in something that shimmered like dew on a leaf. Was it a root? A vine? A divine battering ram?
“I am definitely going to need to warm up first,” she muttered. She let out a shaky laugh, breathless and giddy. “Maybe a little… top off before the main event? Just a quick appetizer?”
Slowly, carefully, she reached for the Thornfather’s massive hand and guided it downward until his bark-rough palm pressed gently against her bare thigh. His touch was cool at first, like stone in shade, then slowly warmed, the heat blooming through her skin like sunlight through soil.
The weight of it grounded her. Reassured her. Goldie swallowed, voice barely more than a whisper. “We’ll go slow. Just… follow my lead, big guy.”
Her hand drifted lower, sliding between her thighs until her fingers found the aching, swollen pulse of need waiting there.She circled slowly, coaxing the arousal forward, breath catching at the little spike of pleasure that chased her own motion.
The god’s heavy palm stayed planted on her thigh, unmoving.
Hot. This is hot. This is definitely hot. Keep telling yourself that, Goldie.
Except her brain wouldn’t stop bouncing like a ping-pong ball. The mossy floor was cold on her knees. The god’s breath was steady but shallow. His vines didn’t so much as twitch. And behind her, Splice wasright there, witness to every awkward sigh and every clumsy stroke. Watching her try to get herself off with a comatose nature deity.
Nope, don’t think about the awkward. This is very hot. Not awkward.
She groaned under her breath, her fingers continuing to circle, but her rhythm faltered. Her arousal was stuttering, sparking and dying out again.
“Should’ve gone upstairs and grabbed my vibrator,” she muttered.
A soft movement stirred behind her. Splice’s hand brushed her shoulder, sweeping her hair gently over one side. The warmth of him moved close, a solid line at her back. His breath teased the shell of her ear just before his lips touched the curve of her neck.
“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice low and steady, full of something fierce and tender all at once. “Tell me what you need. How can I help?”
Goldie drew in a shaky breath, eyelids fluttering shut. His touch steadied her, gave her something to hold onto.
“I… can you touch me? Maybe talk a little dirty to me?” Her laugh wobbled out, awkward and breathless. “Gods, the only time I had a threesome was in college, and we were all blind drunk, and I honestly don’t remember much except?—”
Her words broke off in a hiss as Splice’s hand slid down the front of her dress, slipping deftly beneath the fabric as his fingers sought her skin. He traced a slow, intoxicating line over the curve of her breast, and then nudged beneath her bra for a tender, deliberate squeeze. Her back arched against him, a sharp gasp tumbling out as his mouth found her ear, teeth grazing and nipping.
At the same time, the Thornfather’s vast hand shifted, his fingers curling more firmly around her thigh. The pressure was grounding, heavy, pinning her in place even as the heat inside her flared brighter, stoked by their combined touch.
Goldie whimpered, her fingers slipping between her thighs again, finding the swollen heat building there. She circled slowly, deliberately, breath coming fast as the awkwardness fell away, replaced by the electric thrill of being touched, held,wantedby both of them.
Splice’s lips brushed her ear, his tongue flicking over the shell with wicked intent as his hand rolled and teased her nipple, catching it gently between his fingers.
The god’s fingers twitched in turn, stroking the soft skin of her inner thigh, just enough movement to make her sex clench, desperate and wet, a molten pulse crashing through her.
“My fierce little witch,” Splice murmured, voice low and reverent, roughened with awe. “So brave. Offering yourself for him.” His teeth grazed her earlobe. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”
His hands moved with sudden purpose, deftly tugging at the clasp of her bra beneath her dress. A sharp click and it gave, loosened. In the next breath, he dragged the sleeves from her shoulders, peeling her top down her arms. The fabric fell in a silken rustle, baring her to the humid air of the atrium.
Goldie gasped, instinctively raising her arms to help him strip her down, heart hammering at the exposure.
Splice’s palm returned, sliding over the curve of her bare breast. He kneaded slowly, then caught her nipple between his fingers and rolled. A shudder wracked her body as the bud hardened instantly, her head tipping back against him. Soft moans broke from her throat, sharp and helpless, every nerve sparking under his touch.
Her breath quickened, chest rising in sharp, unsteady pulls as her heart thundered with the fire building inside her. Her fingers returned to her core, more frantic now. She was drenched, slick and needy, the tension coiling tighter with every brush of touch, every strand of magic twining between her, the god, and his graft.
The Thornfather’s vast hand stirred. Slowly, deliberately, his rough fingers slid higher, gliding up the length of her thigh to the soft curls guarding her heat. Goldie froze, breath catching, every muscle taut with anticipation.
Then he touched her. One bark-textured finger, impossibly careful for its size, slid through her slick folds. The contrast of raw power and delicate precision as he stroked was staggering; it felt like being opened and held by the earth itself.
