Page 44 of Zodiac Demons

The threat of it made my heart pound, while Marcus’ skilled use of pressure points as he played inside me only had my body responding with more eager lubrication.

“This might be the only thing that tastes even better than your blood, Baby Doll.” Marcus purred directly into my mind, as he played me so beautifully. He’d come to know my body incredibly well over the last many months, and the way he could get me off again so soon was an art form. Marcus grinned into his hard work, and for once, I was glad he could hear my thoughts.

Ceto released his hold on me and stood back like a voyeur as Marcus took me higher. I was squirming on the bed, clawing at the comforter, trying to hold on, as that cresting intensity was taking root again. I’d barely recovered from the last, when I felt that tremor rock through me from head to toe, seizing my mind with euphoric contentment.

“Good work, Kitten. You’ve always been so good when you’re on your knees.” Ceto knelt down to Marcus’ level on the floor, then took him in an unexpected and aggressive kiss. I watched, my heart hammering and my cheeks flush, as he withdrew his tongue from Marcus’ mouth very slowly, trailing a mess of come and saliva, then licked his lips to savor the taste. “She’s delicious, isn’t she? Do you want some more?” Ceto ran his thumb over Marcus’ lower lip, while Marcus’ expression was a confusing mix of uncertainty and lust. “I’d let you fuck her again to fill her up, but your little Alpha seed is so fucking worthless.” Ceto stood again, then took the position between my legs. He leaned in and kissed me next, sharing that combined flavor with me as well. The dominant and aggressive way he trapped me without using his power had me melting into that kiss. I liked having him on top of me, and it was too soon that he pulled back. He knew he’d left me wanting, but the slight tick of his lips took pleasure in knowing he, alone, was writing the story of the moment.

I’d seen this face of Ceto’s once before, but its nature was far less forgiving when combined with someone so equally capable of being ruthless. I would definitely need to know more about his relationship to Marcus, but right now, they were playing out a silent grudge match, while I was collateral damage.

Marcus didn’t protest, and I remained compliant as Ceto slipped one hand beneath my right thigh, and lifted to better put me on display. Then he gripped me in paralysis again, before pulling me toward him, and entering me again in a smooth, all-consuming motion.

Ceto preferred me docile. He liked playing with me like I was some sort of toy who couldn’t defy him. In a way, maybe I couldn’t. But the reason that mate mark had been so easy to seal that night was because I didn’t want to.

There was something contradictorily empowering about letting him use and control me like this. The way he couldn’t get enough, and took me with obsession and need, knowing it was my body and the overwhelming desire to have it that drove him. He controlled the scene, while I was its entire purpose, and that was stitching together parts of me I didn’t know were broken. To say that I trusted this monster to stop if it went too far, purely by sensing if I wanted him to through the bond, was perhaps naïve and foolish, but… I did. I honestly did.

He held me captive as he slid in and out of me, mixing every pulse of need with my own, and I was helplessly enslaved as he took himself into another crashing orgasm that rippled through my core.

He pulled out carefully, his cock still dripping his come on my skin, then he palmed himself, squeezing for his last drop, and smearing it over his mate mark.

“Go on.” He nodded to Marcus. “You’re not done yet.”

Marcus obeyed without question. He bent over me, and licked a slow, languid stroke up my lower abdomen, taking extra care as he pressed over the Gemini symbol below my navel. I could feel Ceto’s shudder, while my body was practically crying from overstimulation as Marcus slipped his tongue between my folds again, and circled my oversensitive clit. I bucked my hips, the intensity of it all being way too much, when Ceto gave me another disapproving shake of his head. He recaptured me in paralysis, and he forced me to remain still as my senses were being bombarded with pleasure and pain and the verge of insanity.

They spent that night taking turns, with Ceto calling every shot, until I was so wracked with magic and full body orgasms, I could barely tell which way was up anymore.

I couldn’t remember at all when we’d fallen asleep. Or when we’d ended up back in my room instead of Ceto’s. Or what to think as I woke up, back in my rational brain, bombarded by the curious combination of both sage and chocolate, as I was being smothered between the both of them on the world’s largest bed.

If I was being honest, the most questionable part of all of this was my complete lack of regrets. I had an unsettling feeling both of these men left out a lot of details about their past relationship to each other, and there was some nuance that was conveniently not disclosed. Which, unfortunately, was very likely going to be my problem now.

When one of your boyfriends is a literal mind reader, and yet he still can’t communicate for shit.

Life with men.

Good thing the dicks are satisfying.

And the tongues. And everything, really. No point in being mad when I was being well taken care of.

The only real problem right now was the fact that I was currently wide awake and both of these men were holding me like koalas in a tug of war, and I really had to pee.

I was open to many, many kinks, apparently, but a golden shower was not one of them. Or whatever this would be called. A golden bath? A yellow fountain? A bad day? The things we ponder in the dark.

I cleared my throat loudly, with no subtlety to be had, and when that didn’t work, I very carefully started unthreading myself from my monster sandwich. I was almost free when Ceto started to stir.

He pinched the bridge of his nose in disorientation, until the flare of his nostrils told me he was very likely putting this whole scene together in his mind without the need to open his eyes. With a sudden start, he rolled over and started feeling around the bed and the night stand. He grabbed a pair of glasses and put them on, only to take them off and hand them to me instead. Considering I was half blind, and he only wore glasses to protect people from his eyes, it didn’t take long to figure out they were mine and not his.

“Fuck, where are my glasses?” He got out of bed without so much as a good morning as he searched the room in a panic. But of everything we thought to grab as we somehow switched rooms, his glasses did not appear to be among them.

I put mine on, then squirmed out of Marcus’ hold to help look.

“They might still be in your room,” I suggested, and he started to turn toward me, only to quickly stop himself, and cover his eyes with his hand.

“I need to go.” He started in the vague direction toward the door, but being this was his first time in this room, he was off by several feet. Yet he refused to open his eyes or remove his hand from his face.

“This way,” I said, grabbing his arm and helping him in the right direction. “It’s fine if you open your eyes. I won’t look.”

“I don’t think you realize how deadly my eyes actually are.” He let me lead him down the hall, while keeping his hand over his face as an additional safeguard. “Without my glasses to temper my gaze, and without the moon adding to my power, I can’t entirely control it. It takes a fraction of a second of accidental eye contact to turn organs to stone, and I’m not trying to kill everyone we pass in the hallway.”

“I’ve been fine though,” I insisted, though I wasn’t sure why. “And Marcus was fine last night.”