AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Aradia is a mere stepping stone. A thorn in my side I will rectify tonight.
Her steps are far too light in this purgatorial realm. Too effervescent.
She finally arrives in a clandestine chamber in the heart of my castle, where the thin waterfall, like a cascade of silvermoonlight, feeds the bath. A bath carved into the marble floor and filled to the brim with steamy water infused with luminescent body milk imported from the realms of Elysium. Ghostly rose petals gild the water—ones grown from the twilight between life and death.
“The bath waits for you…” I whisper, still concealed in the shadows, invisible, but she searches regardless. Fuck, a pretty blush reddens her cheeks.You know I’m watching, don’t you, Butterfly?
Pursing her lips, she eyes the bath with longing.
A wonder that she seems oblivious to the little winged followers I have sent. While she smiles as the spirit butterflies twirl around her and help pull the tattered dress from her form, her eyes stray. She never lifts a hand to one. Not even when they tickle her with their antennae. Oh, her timid giggle echoes, but it’s followed by her eyes lifting to the open window and a soft remark about the breeze.
Beyond beauty. Beyond the glow of her skin confessing her humanity, Aradia is luminous. While she may be petite, her curves are full. Generous breasts, plump little bottom prime for my hand…or my belt. Full hips. Ripe thighs, ripe for the sinking of my fingers.
Despite how beauty standards have shifted so much throughout the centuries, I have always admired the classical goddess forms with their abundant curves and flesh. Aradia is simply smaller. A curvy little waif.
Finally, she descends into the bath…
Fuck, I grow harder from her form disappearing beneath the perfumed water until she rises with Sweet Alyssum and Eglantine rose petals clinging to her skin. My cock hasn’t stirred at the sight of any being in one hundred years. Mortal or immortal. Not even Zeus could break the curse upon me. Crescendo only works because he bound his soul to mine.
So, why this mortal? Whoever made this curse must have a grievous grudge against me, unless the universe is tormenting me for all my past injustices. I take the credit for the crimes of others, from setting the course of the Trojan War to the attempted rape of Daphne.
I’ll be damned if I let this mortal get the best of me. After I finish this ludicrous wooing process as Crescendo advised, I will wait until she falls to sleep. And after I’ve roused her, in only the way that the God of Love can, I will fuck her until the morning light. One night is all I need, and then I will return her to the mortal world, none the wiser. Including her. Oh, she will seek me for the rest of her fleeting lifespan. And ache for me in every romantic encounter.
No matter how much she begs to stay, and she will beg—I groan, considering the trail of millions of enamored mortals I’ve left behind—I will not allow her to stay.
She willnotbecome another Psyche.
Gripping my throbbing cock, I linger, watching the pretty mortal. Her humanity and the raw intensity of her emotions give her an ephemeral beauty—the kind every god wishes to be near. Nor can I disguise, much less deny, my desire. My cock’s baser need pales compared to my lust for her soul, for that tongue that dared to challenge me, and for her spirited energy all ghosts lack.
Madness. I grit my teeth, steeling my jaw as she floats upon her back. The creamy luscious mounds of her breasts rise from the water, shimmery petals coating their sides. Silken areolae of pastel pink, the flawless shade of an orchid, surround rosebud tips—pebbled to perfection. They will bear the marks from my teeth until I suckle them to a burgeoning red.
As one butterfly settles upon an erect nipple, my cock jumps. She inhales sharply, and the butterfly flutters away. Aradia touches her breast, then pinches the blushing bud.
The thought of her beneath me as I fuck her to her most inconceivable dreams, her most incomprehensible rapture, nearly has me coming out of the shadows.
This heated lust overthrows my body, igniting my blood as I fantasize about cornering her in this very bath, pinning her against the chamber wall as the silver falls stream down upon us both. I imagine forcing her hands above her head. No resistance. One targeted attack on her mouth. My pulse skyrockets at the image of her body melting against mine as I kiss her like a man starved and possessed. Collect her whimpers and moans of need while roaming my hands along every inch of her.
My imaginings spiral as she rinses her skin and tips her curls back in the waterfall, welcoming the steady stream upon her body. Petals slip from her skin onto the water’s surface.
Aradia departs from the bath. Even the air seems to shimmer around her, the wind stilling in her presence, holding its breath.
She scans her surroundings, but her search doesn’t last when the butterflies carry the offering of the robe. Her soaked curls skirt the barest edges of her shoulders. While goddesses may be renowned for their long hair, I quite appreciate her length. Not so short that I can’t wrap my fist around those curls, but short enough that it gives me an uninhibited view of the pearlescent skin of her back.
“Follow me…” I direct her to the adjoining chamber, where the dress awaits.
Her lips part as her eyes light up. I smile in approval. She gushes as the butterflies clutch the fabric. To her, it seems to float in midair. A celestial pink like the dawn’s first blush to mirror her curls.
She drops the robe to the floor while lifting her arms to welcome the diaphanous fabric spilling over her skin. Sheer enough to tantalize me with the outline of her curves. And the shadowy imprint of her stiff little nipples. Delicate as spidersilk spun from moonlight. The train shimmers like flushed constellations trailing upon the floor. The layers of crystalline fabric respond to her movements with an otherworldly luster that catches and reflects every subtle shift of light. Ever-changing rosy hues—much like her blushing cheeks.
“Sit, Aradia. Eat and drink and replenish your strength.” I continue to spell my true voice.
A small table appears on the left side of the room, near the window offering a view of the courtyard and those statues she loves. While she strays to the barren table, she still peers around. My pulse quickens as I imagine appearing behind her, lighting my fingers upon those shoulders, and pressing my lips to the elegant curve of her neck, rousing her heat.
For now, I watch as invisible hands and butterflies serve her a banquet worthy of a goddess in Purgatory. Ambrosial blossom soup with a sweet aroma that echoes my divine gardens. Quail glazed in ghost-moon nectar since even the moon here is much like a ghost. Elysian-seasoned and roasted vegetables and a celestial salad with dressing made from angel tears. Wine crafted from grapes grown on the astral planes.
And for dessert, an eclipsia cake. It echoes the balance of souls and nature with its shifting layers.
I memorize her every sigh, moan, and wondrous expression of her consuming the fare of the divine.
