The other wingtip finds my clit and flutters. I am encased by night-silk wings; their dark whispering closes the world down to the roar of him and the flutter against my skin. The ecstasy is so complete that it is merciless.
“Gush for your monster,” he roars.
And I do. I come and come, the pleasure unspooling from my tailbone up through my ribs and out of my throat in hoarse, animal sounds. He doesn’t stop at one. He keeps striking the same chord—wing, cock, tongue, hand—finding new spots I didn’t know existed. The feathers probe and find secret places in me that light my nerves like fuse wire. I gasp for air that barely reaches me.
The feathers—God, the feathers—press through, maybe into the wall between ass and pussy, maybe past it; I don’t know. I know only the new kinds of heat that bloom there, that I didn’t believe my body had in it. My sanity slips, dissolving underhis rhythm. Anything I thought I knew before this—before this night, before this dark winged thing—crumbles.
There is only him. Only our bodies, knotted and roaring and slick. His wings beat like drums, the stone around us echoing his lion-voice until the room pulses with sound. The golden-white light mixes with dark spots as my sight dims at the edge.
I can’t breathe properly, but I don’t care. I will melt into this light—into heaven, into hell—wherever it leads. I don’t care anymore.
More. I want more. Then still more. I fuck him back with desperate, tiny thrusts until the dark overcomes my vision and the light races to meet it, and my world breaks open in feathered, roaring bursts of pleasure.
I come again and again until there are no edges left and only the hot, crushing center of him and me.
TWENTY-ONE
HANNAH
This is officially beyond intense.I woke this morning to find myself covered in the evidence of last night’s... activities.
I passed out from the sheer overwhelming pleasure. Then, apparently, slept like the dead for hours.
What. The. Hell.
I’ve never been particularly interested in explicit encounters. Or someone who prioritized physical intimacy above all else.
This isn’t like me at all.
None of this feels familiar...
After an extensive bath—scrubbing myself thoroughly, then scrubbing again—I have to stop abruptly because vivid memories of last night start creating... reactions. Tingles and heat that have nothing to do with the warm water.
He’s not even here, and yet I’m still responding to just the memory?—
I shut off the water. I haven’t plugged the drain because I don’t trust that it won’t be full of... remnants of his luminescent essence.
After this, I’ll need to tackle the bedding, though I’m not entirely sure that’s even possible.
Because there was just... so much. I sit in the cooling bath, wringing out my hair.
Dear God. What have I gotten myself into?
Certainly nothing that has any connection to the divine, that’s certain. I remember the whisper of those dark wings enveloping me. The unforgettable sound of them beginning to flutter with increasing intensity.
I rise and step from the tub.
I still don’t know if he was truthful about not influencing my body’s responses somehow. Because this level of... intensity... this isn’t?—
None of this feels?—
Normal.
Definitely not within the realm of my previous experience.
Normal has completely left the building.
So what happens now?
