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“A husband’s lot until he dies.” She shrugged, chewing down a self-satisfied grin. “Or in your case, for eternity.”
Mmm, such was the ignorance of her mortal mind. She didn’t understand that I favored an eternity plagued by her ambition over a single stroke of time without her by my side.
I raked my fingers along the back of her neck and into the warm weight of her tresses to cup her head. “Ought we to negotiate anew? Your silence on the matter in exchange for three corpses?”
“You haven’t been around a lot of women if you think a woman’s silence comes so cheap.”
“I have not.” I brushed my lips along the corner of her mouth. “You are only the second living woman I have touched, yet you are second to none.”
Her heart gave a single, out-of-rhythm beat as she blinked up at me. “Sometimes you say the nicest things when you’re not busy threatening to throw me onto a pile of corpses.”
“My pleasure.”
There was a faint scoff. “I’m not sure I have anything left to offer.”
“Start with a kiss.”
Her lips tingled so nicely as she wet them in anticipation. Her mouth brushed over mine, letting my pulse quicken alongside hers. I shared in this sense of weakness claiming our muscles as our faces drifted together. Breaths mingled. Lips connected. Parted. I kissed her, deep and drinking, enjoying how she offered no reluctance, no fight, no pretense. And yet…
And yet…
A single muscle tensed at the back of her neck as it often did whenever we touched, refusing to ease on its own, no matter how I stroked, caressed, thumbed—no, it remained stiff and stubborn, a manifestation of her unyielding mind, turning our kiss stale against my tongue.
My thoughts wandered back to how she’d pushed me away at the tavern; her beautiful eyes filthed with the promise that she will never have affection for me. Something utterly inconsequential to a god, and it shouldn’t bother me so.
So why did it?
We’d come to an arrangement, hadn’t we? My little one had given me her vow to remain by my side, to always return to it. With loneliness banished, what else was there to want?
Nothing.
No, nothing.
Except, perhaps… her mouth straining on the thickness of my flesh, while my cock fucked the back of her throat until that cursed muscle gave.
“Open your mouth, little one.” Fist curling in her hair, I pushed her head down while taking myself out with the other hand. “Take me between your lips and suck. Mmm, yes… like that.”
Oh, what a dutiful little wife she proved to be, running her lips down my quickly hardening length, even as she shuffled for balance and arranged her limbs. Such a beautiful creature, the gulps and wet suckles coming from her lips nothing short of mesmerizing.
“Yes, ah, you do this so well, my precious wife,” I moaned, caressing her hair and the shell of her ear in the way that never failed to soften her. “Take me deeper. Mmm, so perfect.”
She swallowed my cock in greedy gulps, letting her lips run over the thick veins feeding my shaft, only for a new rush of blood to swell them further. My crown imprinted itself at the very end of her, a mere finger-width from a muscle that… would… not… give.
The way I gripped her hair tighter barely eased the heated itch around my knuckles as I pushed her head down, feeding her thrust after thrust of my hips. Little coughs tingled around my crown—more intense when her throat clenched—letting my testicles rise with my approaching release.
Gripping myself at the base, I pulled her mouth off me, watching how rope after rope of seed splattered onto her face. It caught on her lashes, painted her pink lips, and dripped down from the tip of her nose as I held her still.
Ada glanced up at me from glistening eyes. The harder her cunt throbbed, the more her diaphragm tightened. Nothing but a spreading extension of that knot in her neck, refusing her complete surrender to us. And what was it to me, a god? Was my wife not mine, married and oh-so perfectly marked with my seed?
“You did well.” A knuckle cracked as I eased my hand from her hair and pulled her up for a kiss, tasting myself on her lips. “Go to your room and clean yourself up. Choose a book while I wash in the spring, and I shall bring you release upon my return, then I shall read to you. Go!”
As she stumbled to her feet and then down the dais, I willed the muscle in her neck to surrender. I made what she failed to do on her own, what I could not inspire, the act leaving me dull and tired.
I shucked off my shirt, letting it drop to the dais as the leather around my legs turned to the finest powder waiting on my command, then headed toward the spring.
The moment I entered the cave, warm moisture settled on my cheeks, the air woven with traces of salt and minerals from the mountain in which the Pale Court sat. A welcome change to the staleness of ash clinging to my skin, which faded as I sunk into the hot water. It would return soon—it always did; a constant reminder of the pain I’d endured.
Sudden coldness gripped the surrounding stone as a familiar voice whispered, “Enosh…”
