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Perhaps I could have, should have. I could have taken her from that closet, thrown her down on the bed, and shown her how fierce a lover Eros truly is. By the time the sun rose, she would have been properly cowed, gushing, broken, and soaked.
But the moment she called for me, the monster, the gargoyle, the demon ruler of Purgatory, and not the beautiful god and perfect lover…she fucking did something. And I’m still working it out.
No human should want the gargoyle. Even Psyche winced anytime I kissed her in this form.
But Aradia…she studies. She tilts her head and bites her sensual lower lip and sizes me up like she’s counting my stony damned muscles. She smiles at the beast. Her fingers itch with longing to touch my horns. Worst of all, she dares to look me right in the eye every time with her mesmerizing eyes. No right to mesmerize me with those oceanic infinity pools. Secret lagoons I wish to explore.
After I left her, I returned to my throne, drank wine into the long hours of the night, and fantasized about an infinite amount of punishments for her while occasionally calling for Crescendo to serve me with his music…and his mouth.
“She got under that stony layer of skin, didn’t she, Eros?”he teased me before I stuck something in his jester’s trap to shut him up.
Under my skin. In my blood. A plague in my mind. Everywhere but that stone heart. She doesn’t own that yet. It still belongs to Psyche. Only she can break the curse upon it.
Aradia is simply a butterfly banging around my chest.
If I’d opened that closet door, I would have taken her to bed. And she would have left her mark upon me for eternity. I may be a cursed monster, but I’m still the God of Love. Not the god of rape. I may want to spear my beast of a cock inside her and beat that cunt up until she knows its shape forever, but it would have resulted in the opposite of my intentions.
She would have been my undoing.
She is supposed to be my beautiful prey. Not the other way around.
Even as she’d backed herself into a corner like a quivering little butterfly caught in a net, she had the gall to kiss me back, then maim my fucking balls before escaping the net and taking flight. Little matter if I could have caught her again. I wanted to fuck her, leave my scent and mark upon her, then set her free. Not pin her to a fucking butterfly frame and force myself to carry it around with me every damn day just so I may study every tiny part of her.
Now, she’s simply this annoying little creature fluttering behind my rib cage and tickling the stony grit of that unbeating organ.
How am I supposed to fuck her, knowing I’ll have to return her to mortality with her becoming my ghost…haunting me for eternity? Eros doesnothave ghosts.
He has a curse. One curse. And this little pixie cannot end it.
No matter how pretty her nipples are.
Before she opens the door, I seize her neck, yanking her back. Thrill in her squeak turned to a yelp. Spinning her and digging my fingers into her shoulder, I leer down at her and circle afinger to that sheer night shift. “You will dress accordingly for my tour.”
She tilts her head and lifts her brows, her expression far too guileless to be real. “Aren’t most goddesses shown naked or wearing see-through clothes?”
I roll my eyes. Gods, this girl! “Youare not a goddess, little one. You are a living and bleeding mortal. It’s already enough that you must go around blinding everyone you meet with your life-bound light. I’ll not have you poking their eyes out with your pretty pebbled nipples, too.”
The fresh blush in her cheeks spreads to suffuse her neck and breasts. I smell the shift in her blood and the heat dampening her sex. She smiles shyly and glances down as her nipples pucker to bits of hard pink stone. Oh, hell. Damn it all to fucking Zeus! My cock will explode if I don’t handle her.
She opens her mouth, but I haul her to the stand-up mirror in the center of the room.
“What are you—”
I cut her off when I rip the sheer pink gown down the middle and peel it from her body in less than an eyelash flutter. She chokes on a gasp, and her hands rush to cover herself. But I read less fear in her eyes and more alarm and panic as she shies away. Those emotions can’t possibly snuff the scent of her erotic sex collecting heat. Between her emotions, sex, and energy, I’ll make a mess of my pants if I don’t stem the hunger with punishment, aggression,dominance.
Growling, I grip her wrists and force her hands to plant on the mirror. “Keep them there, Butterfly. You’re going to bend over like a good little girl and look at me while I give your tender ass the spanking it deserves.”
“B-but why?” she asks with a pretty tremor rippling through her.
Taking a fistful of those curls, I bend her over, purring my approval when she keeps her palms planted on the mirror.
Because I need something else to focus on and feed upon, lest I chain you to the bed, spread-eagle you, and eat you out before fucking you into the next world.
“For everything. You will keep your eyes on me the whole time. Is that clear?” I command while stroking my fingers across the soft skin of her back, admiring the plumpness of her rounded hips and bottom. It’s clear she loves a hearty banquet. Fine hints of muscle in her calves and arms confess to her activity, no doubt from her travels. The slenderness in her upper body almost disguises her curves. Curves I wish to savor for now—not my staff or ghosts.
When I trace a finger down the curvature of her spine and poise it upon the apex of her buttocks, she gulps with a deeper blush slaughtering her cheeks. Tears glisten in her eyes, but I read every emotion while scenting her blood. Fear, yes, but it’s a fear laced with awe and respect. And a heaping dose of arousal.
Her pretty pubic lips turn puffier, pinker, and wetter. Her full breasts grow heavier, and I can’t help but appreciate their shape as they dangle like ripe fruit for the plucking.
