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“Well…except for seeing ghosts more, their auras, and I loved talking to them. They’re more interesting than living people. I’ve found most to be kinder, too. Full of regrets and sadness but kind.”
As I finish, he lays me down on the bed, spreads me wide. My body rises, and I feel his warm breath hovering above my breasts, full and sensual lips kissing each nipple. “I like ghosts and old things and sad things. There’s so much more meaning to them. Oh, god, Eros!”
He sinks his teeth into my nipple before closing his mouth around it to suckle. I rock my hips, growing wetter, wanting more. Want him inside me.
“What does this mean to you now, Aradia?” He licks his way down, tongue prowling at my skin.
My hands claw at the sheets, and my heart rate kicks up. I sob as he descends to my sex. “It’s the first time I’ve shared with anyone. Oh, glorious god, please don’t stop!”
He puts his mouth to me. And as he eats me out, invisible shackles break one link at a time. When he stabs his fingers deep inside me and circles my clit with his tongue, I come from the most powerful orgasm ripping through me, pushing me off the highest cliff until the chains fall off…
And I shatter into a shower of shooting stars.
24
“If he’s impotent, consider me his Viagra!”
EROS
After sucking her chocolate treat from my cock, she practically collapses on the bed in a daze, her body softened from molten pleasure.
I take joy as she snuggles closer to me, though I recognize she won’t fall asleep yet. Nor will I break her boundary. I’ve already taken her through one trigger, and she needs a respite.
For now, I simply savor these moments, when she’s lying in the dark next to my god form as I trace circles upon her back. I haven’t felt a woman’s flesh against mine since….Psyche.
How is it possible that I would find another mortal who fits perfectly in my arms? A mortal who has tempted me, captured me, without my pricking myself with my own arrow? My chest compresses. I don’t want to believe another could havemorepower over me than Psyche.
If I could hold Aradia’s soul in my hands, I would wager it was made of black roses growing upon graves and perfumed in petrichor, vintage books, and the shadows of a lunar eclipse.
It wouldsoundlike Gregorian chants and minor melancholic key notes and solemn choral requiems.
It wouldlooklike gothic calligraphy and winter snow upon beautiful ruins—ruins bathed in the Northern Lights with their mystical ballet of luminous-colored ribbons weaving across the sky.
It wouldfeellike black butterflies settling on phantom orchids, a burning jewel caught in star flames, and a night storm upon the sea.
She can dance on the edge of a knife in her bare feet and find beauty in the blood spilling from them. She has a renegade heart and dreams within dreams worth dying for—and suffering. Given the chance, she could grow wings and have me chasing her through Purgatory just so she could thrill in the hunt. And my catching her.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks softly, pressing her cheek to my chest.
I chuff a laugh. “You.” I give her the highlights.
She props her chin on my chest and gods, how I love those blushing cheeks I can see in the pitch darkness. “Mmm, have I mentioned I love how you talk sometimes? All poetic and picturesque?”
I lower my hand to her smart, bratty ass and stab my finger through the seam to circle her tiny anus.
“Mmm!”
“And the times I treat you like the dirty girl you are deep down?”
She nods. “That, too. Oh…”
“Dully noted.” I remove the finger.
“Eros?”
“Hmm…”
“What happened? To Psyche, I mean?”
