Текст книги "King of flesh and bone"

Автор книги: Liv Zander

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Chapter 7

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Enosh

“Snap the lass’ neck and have yer brother bind her soul.” Orlaigh lowered a tray onto a stool beside the bed, filling the room with the sweetest warm apple scent. “Ye’re even crueler if ye hold her here forever alive.”

I glanced down at the mortal sleeping beside me, muscles soaking up her warmth like a seed after an age of frost. How long since I’d last touched a woman? Nearly two centuries.

“Bound corpses make poor bedmates.” Tried it once, didn’t care for it. “I much prefer her alive and warm.”

“Already the lass sleeps at the first yawn, even if she just woke. Keep her body from decaying as time ought to and ye will slowly drive her insane.”

I combed my fingers through Ada’s blonde tresses. If my little mortal woke now, she would blink up at me with bright blue eyes. Finger stiff from an old fracture, skin scattered with scars of various sizes, and a heart that beat strong albeit with a concerning irregularity… for a god formed to perfection, her imperfections fascinated me the most.

Safe for her inherent depravity.

She’d tried to run from me.

Remnants of anger surged through my core at the memory. Fingers itched to break her neck with little more than a thought and bind her soul to her body. The dead had little interest in leaving the Pale Court. Even if they wandered, they always returned to their master.

I was Ada’s master.

Her body was bound to serve me…

… in death, yes, but who was there to judge?

I shifted closer to her, veins surging with that deep-rooted yearning to rut between her legs until bone shattered around us, setting her ablaze at her core—and myself right along with it—burning so hot together that eternity would lose its dreadful meaning.

That… proved an issue.

The dead obeyed.

The living warmed.

I could not have both.

Such a frail, unpredictable thing this… mortality. Oh, how I envied man for his ability to die. Come to think, hadn’t I been created to mirror mankind? Was made of flesh and flaw?

It was only right that Ada now sated the desires of my flesh and suffered the crimes of my flaw—utter possessiveness.

My little mortal had come to me.

And I would keep her.

For eternity.

If it came at the cost of her sanity, then so be it. Nothing the God of Whispers couldn’t ease in exchange for me to keep his harem of corpses smelling fresh.

“She shows no fear toward the dead.” Not like Njala had, ever so displeased with the Pale Court, no matter how I’d shaped it to her wishes. “No disgust.”

“It’s the world ye created with yer absence.” Orlaigh glanced back at where I tugged a fur higher over my little one. “She’s a bonnie lass. Has her wits about her for the most part. And we both ken she’ll run from ye, and I dinnae blame her.”

And she might succeed.

Ada had marked the bone from chamber to throne room, had taken detailed assessments of the gates, and had quickly discovered the miserable state of my corpses. Over the span of eternity, opportunities for escape would abound.

The thought alone filled my veins with anguish that clenched my teeth. It coursed through me so rapidly, already her neck offered itself to break. Until she inhaled and a handful of breasts pressed against me, their warmth coercing me into a state of… calmness.

No, I very much wanted her alive.

But how to keep her from running?

The word promise echoed, but I quickly banished it from my mind. A mind so stuffed with memories of pacts, vows, and pledges sworn by mortals—most broken within the first decade. What good would it do to offer Ada certain freedoms for her promise to remain by my side, ever so faithful?

Nothing.

Oh yes, my little mortal would pledge her loyalty and love, swear an oath from the sweetest of lips, and then she would break it. She would run from me. Abandon me to eternity, my wicked, wayward mortal.

The past had taught me no different.

“I could keep age from her flesh and break her legs in three places.” An acceptable compromise, buying me ample time to chase her down should she ever escape my kingdom.

Orlaigh shook her head and laid out the dress I’d made for my woman, braided from the softest of hairs. “If ye want the lass to hate ye even more, breaking her other bones is the way to go about it.”

Whatever else would I want?

Love?

My breathing hitched at the thought and panic clawed my chest when it no longer expanded with Ada’s inhale, robbing me of her warmth. Of all the things existence had cursed me with, my ability to love was the worst torture—second only to my inability to die.

No, the vicious sentiment of mankind was neither needed nor desired, for I would claim all parts of her form, again and again, until we were so consumed with each other that love paled in comparison.

Besides… “Twisted. I merely twisted them.”

“Ye hurt her.”

My muscles tensed. I despised pain, but my woman had left me no choice. That mankind had apparently demoted me from god to king beyond the Æfen Gate didn’t bode well, and so, I’d had to make a point.

“She’s waking.” This close to her, I sensed it so strongly: heart beating slightly faster, ears twitching at the sound of my voice, body temperature rising. “Did you bring enough honeyed milk for the both of us?”

Orlaigh raised a brow. “Ye want… milk?”

I offered her a stare that invited no further remark, thumb stroking over Ada’s side to rouse her quicker, no matter how I envied her for this mortal need. “How blessed she is in her ability to sleep away half of eternity.”

I took the warm cup Orlaigh handed me before I sent her for more milk, then watched my mortal waken. The way she stretched sinews and muscles sent a tingle through my limbs.

It extinguished when blue eyes narrowed at me with contempt. “Why are you here?”

“I have no reason to be elsewhere,” I said. “My kingdom has become so dreadfully dull ever since I denied your dead entry, the bit of effort it takes to rest the beasts is negligible.”

She shifted away from me underneath the furs, but no further than my arm hooking around her waist allowed. “Did you sleep beside me all night?”

“My form requires little of it.” Sleep only ever came to me in those rare moments of calm and completion, which had last been over two hundred years ago, my mind weary beyond exhaustion. “But I watched you throughout, yes.”

I had stroked hard flesh that hadn’t known touch in just as long, shaft jerking with the desire to spill my seed deep into her womb. So long since I’d bedded a woman. Still, I understood she required her sleep and so, I hadn’t disturbed her.

I allowed my mortal enough freedom to prop herself up onto her elbow before I handed her the cup. “Warm milk with honey. Orlaigh also brought us fried apples, buttered bread, and cured ham.”

“Us?” She hesitantly took the cup, sweetening lips that had been so skilled around my cock. “Do I have to eat breakfast with you?”

“Whyever not? Even if my form doesn’t require it, I enjoy good food like any mortal.” I broke off a piece of bread and held it to her lips. “Eat. We both know you’re hungry.”

A frightened woman would have refused with an excuse. A docile woman would have eaten from my fingers with a thank you on her lips. And a naïve woman would have slapped the bread from my fingers with a snarl.

But not Ada.

Snarl, my little mortal did.

But then she reached for the entire platter of bread, draped ham over one slice, loaded the edges with fried apple, and started eating even before she lowered it to her lap.

Too proud to accept food from my fingers.

Too smart to refuse it altogether.

After all, escape required strength.

It didn’t displease me as much as it should have; no, it charmed me more than was rational or sane. A dull companion slowed time only further. What an intriguing creature this mortal was. How could this woman hold my gaze with her chin held high, while guilt brittled her bones and shame soured her flesh?

I devoured the piece of bread, moaning at the smoothness of freshly-churned butter coating my gums after such long a time. “How did your husband die?”

Her gaze immediately dropped, going adrift somewhere in the furs. “Climbed the falls over at the Fork of Almach searching for pinweedle moss. The rock was wet and he slipped. A fisherman found him at the bottom of the falls, his body trapped between rocks. Said he drowned, but I think he died the moment he hit the rock. Took a chunk of his head out.”

An accident, yet I sensed how guilt infested the marrow in her bones. “You’re blaming yourself for his death. Why?”

Her head sunk, along with her voice. “Because I sent him up there.”

Neither flesh nor bone were free of failure. Why blame herself for the slick on the rock, the cutting breeze along the fall, or the misstep of a limb? She did to such a degree that the weight of it cumbered even my shoulders.

“Had you love for your husband?”

“What I had was a roof over my head, food in my belly, and my own garden.” She grabbed another slice of bread, eyeing me warily, observing, thinking… scheming. “Even without love, I had it better than most. Only took his belt a dozen or so times.”

“And what offenses deemed pain an appropriate punishment?”

She shrugged. “Talked back in front of the townsfolk, mostly.”

Yes, she was a mouthy little thing, but I quite liked it. It made for excellent entertainment. “Have you not been quiet and obedient?”

My little one shoved the bread around in her mouth as she spoke, lacking all the graces of nobility, but they’d started to bore me a good while ago, anyway. “I’ve sometimes been quiet. Now and then, obedient. I’ve certainly never been both at the same time.”

“And did the punishment correct your… defiance? Should I fashion a belt from the next beast coming to the Pale Court? Maybe it’ll cure your desire to escape.”

“Nothing cured in our home but the salted ham hanging from the rafters.”

My chest ached as neglected muscle pushed a faint laugh from my lungs. “So outspoken, your loyalty to a man this rotten confuses me greatly.”

“John was a good man.”

“So good, he only took a belt to you a dozen times? I despise pain, Ada. But not as much as I despise those who inflict it without mercy.”

“Because you have a right to speak of mercy?” Shaking her head, she tossed what was left of her bread onto the platter, the blood in her veins thickening with dismay. “Yes, my husband whipped me, as do all others. But he never kept me under lock and key, never forced himself—”

“Calm your heart.”

“—on me, even when he swayed home drunk from port, and he certainly didn’t push his length up my… my burning arse…”

Her voice trailed off as I slowed her compromised heart, tampering her anger into the faintest tingle beneath her skin. Ah, my little one hadn’t liked it when I took that hole. A little too roughly, too, since she’d torn but, oh, how tight that untried muscle had been around my aching cock.

“You did that.” She pressed a hand against her chest, but only until her blazing eyes snapped to mine. “So, it’s not enough to take the last bit of pride from me, but now you have to steal my rage?”

“A good little mortal gets my mouth on her cunt.” I cupped her cheek, relishing how the weight of her head pressed into my palm because I made it so. “A bad little mortal who runs from me gets my cock up her ass before I pull out and spend my seed all over her face. Or perhaps, welts on her hide after all?”

“Take a belt to me if you have to, but it’ll achieve nothing.”

Or I might just chain her to my throne. “Will you run from me again?”

Lips trembling, she braved my gaze. “Yes. I’ll hide in the back of beyond until my hair’s gray.”

Her honesty pinched me somewhere. “You should have lied.”

“No point in making myself a liar if we both know you won’t believe me, anyway.”

Eternity already scraped its claws over my mind, the thought of losing her chilling the blood in my veins. Perhaps I needed to break her neck after all? But then she would be cold…

Against my better judgment, I caved to the desperation manifesting in my core. “What will it take to make you stay?”

A swallow dragged down her throat as her brow lifted, undoubtedly judging my sincerity. “Spread rot and let the dead in.”

“I won’t break my oath to see yours spoken.”

And I better remember it.

She tortured her upper lip long enough, I wanted to suck it between mine to make her stop. “Then rot my husband’s body.”

The bones of a bastard who’d beaten this woman, and even now, who burdened her with the false responsibility of his death? For him, she would give herself away like a fool?

I had only known this mortal for a short while, but I could tell she was no fool. That made her a liar after all, whispering promises from the most tempting of lips, only to ensure her escape. Had I hoped differently for a moment?

“I won’t rot your husband’s bones, little one.” I rolled out of bed. “How can I make my home more comfortable for you? Should I send Orlaigh to gather books? Paints, maybe?”

The mortal’s posture stiffened, the innocence in her eyes not matching the deceit in her voice. “Can we leave the Pale Court? If only for an hour so I can… see the sky—”

“The sky.”

“—and birds, and trees—”

Did I look so easily fooled? “You’ll get books and paints.”

And a bone collar.

Yes, that should do.

“The most vibrant blues.” I turned and strolled toward the doors, letting the surrounding room dissolve as I refashioned walls into chains. “You want to see the sky, little one? Then paint it onto the ceiling, for you’ll never see it again.”

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Chapter 8

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Ada

Decorated with hundreds of fangs and the spindly bones of rodents, the bodice of my dress fanned out at the waist, letting an endless amount of white feathers cascade down the dais. When it came to my attire, Enosh spared no effort to make me look like a queen.

Aside from my collar.

That made me look like a prisoner, no matter how he’d tooled the thick ring of bone around my neck with images of birds he promised I would never see again.

Brush in hand, I dipped the fine bristles into a small jar of paint made from green pigment and, based on the nutty smell of it, linseed. Trailing it along the edge of the dais, I added another vine to the motive, winding all the way to—

Clank.

“Devil be damned, I’ll never reach the right side with how short he keeps my chain.” A tug on the collar to let some air to my skin, then I scooted back until the tense string of bone rings clonked to the ground. “Here. Take the brush and finish the vine.”

“Ach, lass, me fingers are too rotten to even clasp it well,” Orlaigh said, her hands a speckled green whereas her lips had gone a dark purple.

“One would think you deserve for him to freshen you up, given how you tattled on me.”

“Stopped ye from trying to run again and get us both into trouble,” she mumbled. “I had no other choice, lass.”

No, she hadn’t.

Orlaigh was nothing but a prisoner of a different kind. Whereas Enosh had chained me to his throne for my attempted escape, Orlaigh’s help very well could have earned the old woman to become the collar around my neck.

Or another face on the throne…

I looked up at the corpse woven into the bone. He looked back, his eyes milky-white, yet I sensed his chilling stare on me. As silent as the Pale Court, he observed me but never made a sound.

Probably because Enosh had removed the mouth of both, leaving nothing but the shift of a tongue behind dry, brown skin. Every now and then, he restored the corpses, only to let me watch them rot away again in what had to be eternal agony.

I tossed the brush onto the bed Enosh had made for me, like a roundish nest of bone beside his throne, the inside fluffed with fox pelts and feathers. “Who is he?”

Orlaigh glanced up from where she sat on the dais with a book on her lap. “Lord Tarnem.”

“What did he do?”

“Lured me Master into a trap. A valley surrounded by mountains, the ground so frozen, no bone made it to the surface to help him fight off the ambush. They cut down the few corpses he had with him for protection and captured him.”

Yet another tale proving to be too true for comfort, scraping away my thinning doubt of Enosh’s divinity. “Was fire involved?”

“Ach, lass, the flames could be seen from five towns away. Kept ’em chained to a pillar where they burned me Master for a fortnight.” A slow shake of her head. “Terrible thing, death by fire. But death never came for him while he screamed in pain; skin growing back one moment, only to char black again the next.”

“I had no idea he could feel pain.”

A discovery that should please me or, at the very least, give me a sense of comfort. Instead, my skin broke out in gooseflesh, my mind drifting to the distinct smell that followed Enosh around—like ash sprinkled over snow.

“Gods are not so different from us, lass,” she said. “Me Master suffers like any mortal, be it a battered head or a broken heart.”

“A broken heart?” That lured a scoff from me. “As if he has one.”

Orlaigh looked at me from a tilted head. “Is it so hard to believe that he loves and lusts like any man?”

“Oh, I believe the lust part.” Still felt its sting in my backside, too. “It’s the love part I cannot comprehend.”

She only shrugged.

I jutted my chin toward the other man, who never as much as blinked, his thin strands of brown wisps snaking around the porous bone. “And the other?”

A sneer came over her features, showing off a row of graying teeth. “Commander Joah Mertok.”

“What did he do?” When she struggled with the page of her book to make it turn under her unreliable fingers, I leaned over and turned it for her. “Has Enosh always been this cruel?”

“Crueler. For a time. The dead and the living forget, lass, taking their sorrows to the grave.” She looked up from her book, letting her black-veined eyes lock with mine. “Gods do not, and rage on.”

 Dread weighed down my shoulders, and I looked over at the crumbling bridge. What had happened to Enosh that made him abandon his duty, sequestering himself in this empty, dull place? On more than one occasion, he’d called us mortals wicked. Aside from feeding him to the fire for weeks, what other cruelties had he endured?

Should I care?

As if my thoughts had conjured him, the man strolled over a bridge and walked up the dais, once more dressed in black breeches and a white shirt. With a gesture of his hand, he dismissed Orlaigh and lowered himself onto his throne.

“Come to me.” Two taps against his thigh as if I was his dog. “Kneel before your god.”

“You lack a great deal of divinity for a god and do a poor job at fulfilling your duty.”

He smiled as if my snarky remarks amused him.

Then he let a wave of weakness gnaw on my knees until they caved in. A death weight followed, pushing against my shoulders until my palms hit the bone.

He made me crawl to him, feathers catching on the edge of the dais until some ripped off, wafting around me like snow as teeth and bones clanked on my bodice. “I’m not an animal.”

“No, animals get scraps, whereas I make certain you receive the best meals from beyond the gates, the softest pelts for your bed, the best paints gold can buy. You’ve been pulling on your collar again.” Hooking a finger under my chin, he guided my head to rest on his lap and gently stroked the sore skin beneath the bone ring. “I’m afraid in regard to your chain, I had to choose thickness over length.”

“Because you don’t have enough bone to maintain the Pale Court.” The reason why I’d been able to break his shackles and one bridge had holes the size of a wolf. “Your kingdom is falling apart around you. Why? Because Lord Tarnem burned you at the stake?”

“He also disemboweled me… twice.” His fingers combed through my hair like he often did, a digit slowly tracing along the shell of my ear. “My little treasure is tired.”

“I’m always tired.” My senses dulled from hours of doing nothing but pace and paint. “Is it night? Day? Nobody ever sleeps. It’s… confusing.”

As if I were a little child in need of a nap, he plucked me from the ground and cradled me to his chest, my bone chain clanking against his throne. “Paints. An entire kingdom as your canvas. The finest dresses I can create. Berries with nearly every meal. What else does my woman need to be content?”

“You’re making me sound like a spoiled brat, not a prisoner.”

“A spoiled prisoner, then,” he said, as if a cage wasn’t a cage, no matter how pretty. “More books, perhaps?”

“I can’t read.”

His eyes went to the stack of leather-bound books beside my bed, jaws clenching as if he scolded himself for not noticing sooner. “Then I shall teach you.”

Ah, great. What a fool I was, earning even more of his attention.

“There aren’t many books left to read ever since the high priests outlawed all writings but those the temples provided.”

“Praising your false god, no doubt.”

“Why would they do that?”

“You’re not listening, little one.” Another pitying stroke through my hair. “Mortals are wicked creatures, always striving for more power than they can handle. If the masses pray to a god who doesn’t exist, then the mortal who speaks for said god amasses great power. Riches too, I would assume.”

My mind went to the tithe the priests collected twice a year. “The temples have gold-plated signs.”

“I have little bone at my disposal, it is true. The price I pay for an oath given.” With a flick of his hand, he reshaped my collar, widening it enough that a calming chill settled on my skin. “The stiffness in your muscles over your discontent is cumbersome.”

“If it’s so bad, how about you take me outside for a walk?”

“No.” A kiss against my temple. “But… I’m ever so tempted to send Orlaigh for fresh flowers whenever you please me.”

My skin heated beneath my collar, driving out his soothing chill until it itched again. “I don’t want damn flowers.”

Fuck the violets on John’s grave, too! I wanted to get out of here, drag three millstones onto my husband’s grave, then run from Enosh until my skin wrinkled and my hair grayed.

But the god only sighed, as if my mortal moods bored him. “Careful with that mouth of yours or I’ll find something to stuff it.”

As if to make a point, I watched my hand lift to knead over the significant bulge behind his leather breeches. Only trickery. “If the idea of my escape vexes you so, then why won’t you rot my husband’s bones like I asked?”

“You want me to leave my court—after two hundred years, no less—to rot the body of a wife-beating man?”

I’d rather be beaten than collared and raped. “I won’t expect a god who abandoned his purpose to understand the meaning of duty.”

“Duty?”

“Of a wife.”

“Something you seem to take very seriously.” His gaze intensified, eyes slipping to my lips for a second. “How come?”

“I gave my vows.”

“Vows,” he repeated slowly, as if tasting the word. “No mortal will find rest within my court, little one.”

“I’m not asking you to rest his bones at the Pale Court. You’ll just turn him into a cup and make me drink from it.”

“There’s an idea that makes this worthwhile.” Of course, he chuckled, ever so amused.  “Now, lift your skirts and show me how wet you are.”

Only trickery.

Regardless of how Enosh stirred my flesh, I didn’t truly lust for the god. As long as I remembered it, recited it like a prayer, then my body wouldn’t betray me again.

I shook my head, ignoring the heat climbing my inner thighs. “I won’t.”

“Very well. Touch me, then.”

That… was unexpected.

He leaned back and stared at me, amusement sitting in the depths of his turbulent gray eyes. One corner of his lips carried a slight uptick. It hiked into a lopsided smirk as I reached my damned hands for his chest.

Leisurely, I palmed the vast plains of hard muscle before I let my fingertips curve down along the dips and valleys of his abdomen. A bastard like him shouldn’t be this perfectly built. I balled the hem of his shirt in my fists and pulled it over his head, his scent wafting off him like flames licking the wet chill of a winter night.

His chest rose and fell easily with each breath, the shoulders above wide, with strong muscles tying into the trunk of a broad neck. He was so beautifully sculpted, every inch shaped to divine perfection that hid the depravity in his heart. Enosh was so terribly cold, so terribly cruel, just… so terrible with how he folded his arms behind his head.

“Yes, just like that,” he praised, striking a long-neglected chord deep within me until it hummed. “Touch me, my little one.”

The soft lilt coming from his lips only deepened my utter humiliation, and how I cupped his cheeks with a lover’s touch. I stroked the sharp line of his jaw, dug my fingers into his long, black strands, and thumbed his bottom lip in nothing short of worship.

Only trickery.

My folds didn’t truly grow wet when I reached his breeches, frantically undoing the laces to release his hard flesh.

My insides didn’t truly heat when I brushed my skirts aside and mounted him, knees braced against the bone of his throne.

And my body didn’t truly tremble when I reached between us, lining his crown up with my sex before I impaled myself on his thick—

“Oh my god!”

“No need for such formalities.” His arms remained folded behind his head, no matter how I rocked against him, rubbing my nymph over his hard body. “Call me by my name.”

“Arrogant jerk.”

“Stubborn, insolent, beautiful woman,” he rasped. “Take your pleasure from me, Ada. A reward for my good little mortal, and how stunning she looks, collared and chained.”

A ripple of anger tensed my muscles as lust and loathing fought within my core. No, this was no reward; this was mockery. A blatant display of his power over me as he watched… and did nothing.

Enosh neither forced nor restrained.

Instead, he agonized my flesh with unwanted hunger, letting its fangs bite so deep into my heated center, lust won—and flesh answered the call of its master. I bucked against him, seeking pleasure while my mind echoed with the fading lifeline of my prayer: only trickery, only… trickery, only—

“Kiss me!”

Already my weight shifted toward him, tongue wetting my lips. His breath tingled over my mouth, the warmth of his proximity seeping deeper, deeper, until—

I pulled back on a mumble, “Only trickery.”

“Only trickery, hmm? What makes you so certain?” Deep and lustful, his groan purred across the skin of my neck as he reached for the bodice of my dress. “How can you tell where your obedience ends and your cravings begin?”

He undid the laces of my bodice, exposing my breasts to his greedy lips. They suckled a nipple into his mouth, tongue teasing the little bud until it grew painfully hard. He did the same with the other, warm hands kneading the flesh, weighing it.

I moaned, relishing the time he took to fondle my breasts, giving them attention they hadn’t known in so, so long. “None of this is real.”

“You feel painfully real to me, little one. Now kiss me.” When I did nothing, he gripped the bone chain near my collar. “Kiss me!”

A hard pull and he hauled my face closer before he slanted his mouth over mine. Confident lips brushed the corner, kissing me with ravenous need before his tongue stroked my lips apart.

The hunger in his kiss, his unforgiving grip on my chain, the absurd tenderness of his hand as he cupped the back of my head… it sparked a need I had no control over.

Fingers trembling with defiance stroked over the arch of his brows, down the slant of his cheekbones, only for my arms to wrap around his neck. I hated myself for it, but that didn’t keep me from rolling my hips each time he thrust upward, working his thick cock deep into me.

He gripped my chin in the vise of his hand and something desperate fleeted over his gray eyes. “Say my name. My true name.”

“Enosh…”

He answered with a grunt and guided me along his rock-hard length, filling my sex with pleasure it hadn’t known in years. Oh, the thickness of his flesh, the bliss of how he filled me so completely, the obscenity of all this. It was… was…

“Not real.”

A cloud of feathers puffed up around me. Clank, clank, clank went teeth and bone as my bodice fell into just as many pieces, skipping down the dais, leaving me naked.

Enosh rose, slipped me off him, and spun me to face the corpses in his throne all in one movement, his snarl predatory. “It’s realer than you’d ever confess to yourself, so let me help you.”

He gave another yank on the chain until my collar pulled against my throat. “Your flesh has been deprived of touch for so long that it blooms beneath my hands. It calls for me, longs for me.”

When a burning sensation spread across an arse still sore, my hands grabbled for hold, finding it on the bone of his throne. “No. No, please… not there.”

“Not there,” he repeated as he slipped lower and thrust into my cunt, seating himself completely before he pulled back, then snapped his hips forward again. “Ah, you’re gripping me so tightly all on your own. You want this. You like this.”

Hard thrusts turned to aggressive pounding as he panted, fucking me so hard that the porous bone I held on to chaffed my palms. My body heated as I arched my back and, Helfa forgive me, I braced against him so I could take him deeper.

“So good. So wet and eager for me, no matter how you snarl.” His next hard push set me aflame. “Yes… say my name. Do it!”

A scream slipped from my lips without permission. “Enosh!”

“Ada,” he groaned in response. “So warm around my cock…” A deep stroke pinned me between glorious hips and the judging stare of two corpses. Ropes of hot seed filled my womb while Enosh’s trembling fingers stroked through my hair. “Mmm… there’s your reward, little one. Feel how I spend my seed inside you. Ah, it’s all yours. Only yours.”

When the height of pleasure ebbed away, nothing remained but bleakness. There was no fighting this; there was neither escaping this pleasure nor the shame that tortured my conscience.

Clenching my eyes shut, I said, “Guess I ended up at the whorehouse after all.”

Still seated deep within me, he leaned over and ardently kissed between my shoulder blades. “Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone. Never my whore, forever my woman.”

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