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The shadows and smoke pause. And Allysteir chuckles. “For that comment, perhaps I’ll make you wait longer, my dark rose...”
“Allysteir!” I whine and drive my aching breasts up, my nipples puckered and crazed, the emptiness inside my sex relentless and savage.
By now, his strength shouldn’t surprise me when he wrenches my arms in a single thrust above my head before his mouth descends back to my breast. I shriek from his tongue sampling my bud. A flush suffuses my chest despite the needle-ice shadows and the contrast of heated smoke. A surge engulfs my inner cavity, and I buck my hips.
“Corpus King...” I breathe the title in a deep exhale as I clench from the irresistible urge.
“So sweet,” Allysteir purrs a chuckle against my breast, nips at one swollen rosebud, rubs his teeth against it.
“Please...I can’t?”
He pulls away to hover above my mouth. I moan from the raw air washing over my breasts. “Should I tell you of how you have tantalized and taunted me every night as you slept, my bride? Your dreams leave little to the imagination. And your moans. Or how you touch yourself as you dream.”
I vault my demanding hips upward, begging him while battling Kryach who teases my thighs beneath my gown. “Allysteir, I need?”
“How you beguiled me among the royals on the night you danced at my Feast of Flesh? Or how I could remember nothing but the spirit in your eyes when your back was to the wall in the Skull Ruins? Or how I can hardly consider anything but the taste of your flesh and blood which is as soul, mind, and mouth-watering as ever?”
I gasp when he lifts the hem of my gown. Longing tears trespass along my cheeks when the spindly bone finger embarks on a delirious path to my distended lips where he parts them and chuckles. “Perhaps far more mouth-watering than even your insatiable yet virginal lips.”
“Oh!” I shriek again, arching when he plunges one bone finger deep inside me. Hard as a thin iron rod and unlike anything I’ve ever felt?so unlike mine or Franzy’s warm, supple fingers tickling and tempting one another.
“Or perhaps...” Allysteir adds another finger and twists both. I lurch, hips smacking the ground so more Isle-fruit juice bursts and stains my bridal gown. I clench my muscles around those hard-as-nether-stone fingers. “...perhaps I should tell you how I never expected, nor desired you more the night you bared yourself to me upon our wedding night. How I loathed myself for what I wasforcedto do.”
All Aryahn Kryach’s shades dissipate, disappear into a quietude?a still, un-moving skull, bereft of smoke, of blood fire eyes, of anything but Death.
I pinch my eyes, tempted to open them from how close the King is, from his words. But Allysteir breathes a vaporous warning against my mouth. Ever so slowly, he pumps those fingers in and out. I tighten all my leg muscles. Allysteir knits his power along my curves until my flesh is alive with hypersensitivity. When the King pauses his fingers, I strain against his other hand holding me down, circling my hips, demanding more friction.
“Allysteir!” I wail because I am close enough for those pleasure bolts of lightning to stoke my veins, the barest edge to light my spinal nerves. I lift my hips again, struggling against the erotic tension, but the King growls. He urges me down with his pelvis. I thrash my head from side to side, throat constricting with need, waves raging.
He rubs his ruinous mouth across my cheek, lower to my neck, to his mark. “I punished myself all night until blood drowned the floor of our room. I would have paid any price. I would have shed all my blood, all my rotted flesh, and broken my bones for you if you had merelycommanded. You are and always will be my Queen. You have bound your soul to me. And he will never ever have you, my dark rose...”
When the King releases my wrists, so he may lower his mouth between my thighs, part the swollen lips, lower his tongue to my clitoral knot, and drive his fingers deep and hard into me, I howl to the highest peak of the Five Ladies! On the cusp of release, those lightning bolts hum throughout my body. I clamp all my muscles. Tempt fate when I lower my hand to cup his macabre cheek where he shudders, but he does not pull away. Because I’ve obeyed his command. Not once have I opened my eyes, but I trace the protruding bones, the flesh rotted and pulled back from his teeth, the exposed sinew, the sunken cheeks, the barren side of his scalp.
“Hmm,” he murmurs against my wet sheathe, his voice rumbling into me. “You taste of pomegranates, Isla. The sweetest of the Underworld’s forbidden fruit.”
Oh!?his tongue’s skill when he discovers the secret knot under the sheathed hood and trains all his attention on it, tonguing harder and deeper.
I thrust my hips up and gasp a storm of furious breaths to the climax?a crescendo pulsing up my spine to crash my hips down, down, down. I release all tension. My muscles wither from the aftermath of thousands of invisible feathers tickling my flesh.
Still, I do not open my eyes despite my quaking breath, despite how Allysteir withdraws his fingers, massages my labia, and chuckles, “You’ve turned the soil here to utter mud with your lovely flow, my bride.”
At first, I clamp my lips together but then heave as he lowers my gown hem, sucks each of my nipples in a departing offering, then replaces the neckline before pressing his brow to mine. I know from the mask weight upon my cheek, I am free to look upon him again. Almost laughing at the sheer irony of how I touched but did not look. Then again, I did look. Once.
“Not uncommon for me,” I admit, squeezing my shoulders, cupping my forehead, my skin flushed, my sex giving tiny bursting gasps.
“Not the best then?”
I offer him a soft smile, cup the side of his mask, thumb the skeletal side, and reply, “You know what they say about the first time. But perhaps with more...practice?”
He growls. “Oh, you naughty buxom bride.”
“It was wholly unique.”
“Unique...” he clicks his tongue. “Hundreds of brides and all I receive is...unique.”
With an airy laugh, I prepare to tell him how wonderful it was. The first time when I’d pleasured myself was truly my best. The dead of midnight. On the edge of the Void. All my body alive with its dark energy as I’d tempted fate, tempted danger. And with nothing but the moon shedding her insipid light upon my naked skin, I’d bathed in a river bordering the Void, then lay on its shore where I’d first touched myself. My reclamation after the Void had done its best to destroy me as a child. That monumental night, I took back my power.
And when I’d first climaxed, it was as if all the gods and goddesses had unleashed their essence into me.
