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“What makes you so certain? It’s been nearly a thousand years since you were human, but there’s a thing called genetics? You might know it as a family resemblance.” I spread out my hands to emphasize my point.
He hisses at me through sharp teeth, making my heart jump. “She cursed me with a deformed cock and the inability to climax except in her presence. You are my wife.”
Without meaning to, my gaze drifts down. Down past his sculpted chest, down past his tight abs, and to his leathery leg coverings, where a huge erection stands to attention.
My throat tightens, as do the muscles of my pussy.
It’s bright red, fully erect, with all four heads darkened and swollen. Tiny crystals sparkle in the dappled light, making it look like he’s covered in glitter.
The sight is both fascinating and hypnotic. I crouch toward his cock, my hand drifting to his thick shaft.
The Boogie Man wraps his hand around his length and groans. “See what you do to me, wife? No other wench arouses me but you.”
“We’re not married.” I voice the protest too weakly for it to have any impact.
“Alienor’s curse says that I can only achieve satisfaction as a man with her,” he says, his voice choked. “There’s enough of my wife in you to fulfill that condition.”
I gulp, my gaze still fixed on that huge cock. As he rubs his thumb over each of the four heads, my chest echoes with a moan. Part of me wants to reach through the barrier and feel it for myself, but recent memory and common sense dictate that he’s dangerous.
As the Boogie Man continues to stroke himself, I force my gaze away from his erection to his face. His eyes glaze and his full lips part with panting breaths.
“Isn’t this kind of behavior unkingly?” I say for want of a better word.
He huffs a bitter laugh. “After eight centuries of sexual frustration and never feeling a jot of satisfaction, one loses all sense of propriety.”
Heat floods my pussy. I rub my thighs together, trying to create some friction, even though I know it’s inappropriate.
“If I stand here and watch you wank, will you leave me alone?” I ask.
“Will you break my curse?” His strokes quicken.
“How?”
“With your magic.”
I get the impression that he would deliver that answer with a lot more vitriol if he didn’t need my presence to cum.
Even more of the glittery substance gathers in his slits, pushing apart the reddened skin. I lean forward. “Is that faerie dust?”
“Enchanted salt, and it’s part of your curse.”
“Elenor of Aquitaine’s, you mean?”
“Same wench,” he says through clenched teeth.
I’m so fascinated by this creature that I don’t bother to correct his mistake. He’s so stubborn that he’ll never listen to my protests. He tightens his grip on his shaft, turning his knuckles white.
My skin tingles. It’s crazy, but I’ve never felt so alive, so special, so seen. A handsome, centuries-old king cursed by my ancestor with eternal fidelity is stalking me.
It makes a twisted sort of sense since my mother used her last breath to bless me with my ancestor’s magic. Does that mean I have the power of a queen?
“Touch yourself, Alienor,” he growls. “Show me that beautiful cunt before I tear out your black heart.”
His words snap me out of my stupor, reminding me that this monster wants me dead. I step back, feeling like an idiot for getting distracted by his beauty.
“You wanted proof that you are Alienor,” he says, his voice heavy with bitterness. “My vicious wife always took delight in leaving me wanting.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have cheated on her and then thrown her into jail,” I snap.
