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“Nemesis!”

Was she screaming?

“Tell me to stop, Your Majesty. Tell me to stop, if you don’t want me to fuck you right here and right now.”

Hera gulped. Her silk underwear was soaked.

“Tell me not to make you come out of your mind and then not to carry you into the bedroom, tie you to the bedposts and do it again, hard, so hard, you won’t be able to walk for days without feeling me inside you.”

Hera opened her mouth, but as no words came, she simply reached for the chiseled face, only to be stopped by rough hands on her neck, pinning her to the wall, long fingers squeezing her throat just a little, letting her know who was in charge. Hera wanted to rub her thighs together, but Nemesis’s leg situated itself between them, further immobilizing her. Oh, gods and all mortals, was this lust? Was this madness?

“Use your words, Your Majesty. Use your words to stop me.” Hera blinked, and Nemesis squeezed harder. Then she leaned closer, her lips on Hera’s ear. Her breath hot for once, the heat scorching Hera’s skin. “Tell me to stop.”

Hera shook her head, the hand around her throat making her tremble.

“Don’t stop. Take me. Fuck me.”

Nemesis’s smile was feral. Hera felt it in her very core. Her muscles clenched, and she reached for the disheveled hair, fingers grasping and pulling, bringing the sinful mouth to hers.

The kiss was more war than love. Teeth bit, lips sucked. Hera moaned as she tasted blood and heard Nemesis growl. She wanted to howl herself.

Nemesis took no time at all in pressing the knee higher, eliciting something that surely could not have been a moan from Hera. She couldn’t have sounded like that. All hungry and broken and begging to be put together by these hands, by this mouth.

Hera wondered if Nemesis would kneel. If she would lift her skirts and take her then. She whimpered at the thought, the hand at her throat twitching with every sound she made.

But Nemesis did not kneel. The knee rose higher still, and Hera tilted her pelvis, throbbing against it once, twice. Then the knee disappeared, and Hera thought she would go insane.

“Your Majesty, it’s surely unbecoming of a Queen to rut against a leg. You deserve to be worshipped. To be fucked in earnest.”

And so, the fingers that had held her waist dove into the flimsy excuse for silk underwear she had been dripping through for the past half an hour. There was no preamble. No warning. She had been empty, and a second later she was full. Three fingers stretched her, took her, undid her.

She screamed. The hand at her throat tightened, and Hera could have sworn she became wetter still, now, surely dripping down Nemesis’s wrist, which moved with unerring rhythm, in and out of her, the sound obscene. The sound arousing. The sound one of total surrender. Total abandon.

It had a noticeable effect on Nemesis, who growled and thrust deeper, the sword clinking at her side, the proximity of the sharp blade making Hera think of wars and blood and power. Power that was fucking her into the wall, taking everything.

It was a display of total authority over her, and Hera reveled in it.

“You are taking me so well, Your Majesty.”

Hera closed her eyes, the voice moving along her skin like a caress.

“I can’t get enough of you. Of your cunt.” A hard thrust made Hera’s head thump against the wall. Just as she thought she’d come on the spot, the fingers retreated at the last second.

She whined, unbecoming, weak, desperate. Nemesis laughed. Hera could have slapped her.

When a hand ripped her bodice and lips latched to her breast, Hera wanted to grab her and never let go.

“Yes, yes, yes!”

She felt the smirk against her skin before she heard it in Nemesis’s words.

“Your cunt, your breasts. Gods, I’ve been tasting you for weeks.”

As if to remind herself, Nemesis lifted the fingers that had just been inside Hera to her lips and licked them. Hera gulped, then grabbed the insolent mouth and tasted herself.

It was Nemesis’s turn to whimper into the kiss.

“I think you are forgetting who’s in control here, Your Majesty.”