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I roll my eyes. “Hey, now, I love hearts, but the parts matter, too.” At least, for me. I force myself not to lower my eyes to his dick. But whenever you try not to think of something, and it suddenly turns into a flashing neon sign in your head? This time, it’s a damn supernova lighting up all the receptors in my brain.
I flick my eyes down. He jerks. My mouth waters.
“Fuck!” he shouts as the ghosts work themselves into a near frenzy, swarming all around us.
Archer grips my wrists and hauls me a few paces away before thrusting me up against a marble pillar, driving the breath from my lungs. A marble pillar right next to a floor-to-ceiling arched and gilded mirror.
“What are you—”
He growls harsher, the sound resonating down to my bones to rattle them. Before I know it, he has my legs spread wide around his formidable waist with my skirts bunched up around my hips! He wrenches my wrists high above my head, which thrusts my breasts out. Enough to show my hard nipples through the corset bodice.
“I—”
“Don’t you fucking say a word,” he snarls, and I clamp my lips shut as a spine-tingling chill vibrates through my body, triggering a deep internal tightening. “You’ve already done enough damage with your pheromone-inducing fantasy.”
My what?
He circles a finger to the gathered souls, observing, waiting, their eyes rooted to mine. “When someone disrupts the balance, little Aria, the magic cracks. And if it is not sealed, the spirits here will escape and wander into Limbo.”
“I’m guessing that’s a bad thing?” I heave anxious breath, and that only aids my bosom into nearly splitting the corset strings.
“Yes. And I don’t care to spend the next month hunting their souls because someone couldn’t keep her naughty little thoughts in check.” He takes one hand off my wrists and grips my throat. “Do you understand what I must do now to restore the balance and preserve the magic?”
Please don’t say you’re going to eat me. Please don’t say you’re going to eat me. Please don’t say… “Fuck me?” I shiver, clenching my eyes shut, overwhelmed by the thought. It’s not like I haven’t been fucked. I just wasn’t fucked by a cock…attached to a male.
Archer snorts. “Hardly, Butterfly. But you will take everything I give you as they watch.”
“Can I watch, too?” Jingles erupt following Crescendo’s lilt as he practically bounces up and down.
Archer jabs his chin toward me. “Up to her, Cres.”
I glance at him, pausing at how he’s tilted his head, eyes expectant and hopeful. This isn’t some sick perversion to him. Not to any of them, especially not to Archer.
When Archer does this, it’s not something they will simply share. It’s something they willfeel…down to their very soul matter. I spent all day listening to souls, hearing their stories, trying to bring them together. If this is what must be done to set things right…
“He can stay,” I nod, blushing something fierce. “Just…no sounds or words, please.”
“Oh, too-sweet and innocent little Butterfly,” Archer says with a voice so gravelly and deep, it sends a torrent of hot liquid into my pussy. “You will be moaning, begging, or screaming the whole time.”
By my ninth orgasm,my entire being has become the hot, throbbing, swollen orifice between my legs. And my nipples, red and hard as rubies, marked from his teeth and swollen from his mouth and tongue.
And he shows no signs of stopping.
I’ve transformed from the pink-haired, emotional girl who loves the meaning of tragedy to a full-blown hussy rocking and humping my body against the gargoyle. Naked body since he cast the gown to the floor.
Judging by the responses of the ghosts around me, I’d swear they feel everything I do. But they’ve respected my request. Their phantom bodies rut, but there’s not one word or moan, aside from mine.
Even Crescendo, he’s played countless love songs while fisting his well-endowed cock, which I caught one glimpse of before Archer gripped my jaw, usurping me with his dominance and possession. Not that I was trying to stare. I’m far too interested in the heavy log that hangs between the gargoyle’s legs—so heavy, he’d need every muscle in his hand to lift it.
Archer was right. Moaning, begging, screaming—throw in praying and sobbing and crying…I’m certain I worked in a few feminine snarls and deep groans. And one or two feral threats to chain him up in the dungeon and take a paddle to his stony ass.
I can’t keep myself upright anymore. His strength alone seals me to the poll which is slippery from my sweat.
He slides another thick finger inside me—up to three nearly the width of an average vibrator—while he kisses and tonguesmy throat. Using his hips and pelvis to grind against me, it only puts pressure on his wrist to stab his digits in deeper. He sends me over the edge again.
I make primal, animalistic screeching sounds. Never quiet. I was too quiet as a child, cowering in the shadows of the closet while I heard all the screaming outside. Now, I’m a writhing, screeching banshee with my raging screams echoing all over the ballroom.
The intense orgasm rips through me, and I clench hard around his fingers, gushing more than ever. My hair is a wild fit of tangled curls with most clinging to my sweat-sodden cheeks.
