I nod, and Eurus lifts my legs, draping them over his shoulders so my heels rest between his wings. A beam of moonlight pierces the gloom to bathe the right side of his face. The East Wind, born of shadow and storm and strife. How did we get here? How is it possible that I—a mortal woman—have found myself caught in his arms?
Hot pleasure douses my every thought as he rubs his palms along the outsides of my thighs, settling in. Tracing the edges of my folds, he gently opens me before leaning forward. His mouth parts. I tense in anticipation of the touch.
A hairsbreadth away, he halts.
I shift position in an attempt to lift my sex toward his mouth. “Eurus.” My core pulses in demand. It wants the thorough devotion of his tongue, the raw sounds of his pleasure.
Instead, his eyes flutter shut, and he inhales.
The sight scorches me from fingers to toes. When he opens his eyes, I gasp. They are wholly black.
“Do you know what I want most, bird?” the East Wind rumbles.
“N-no?”
“This.” Snatching the jar of honey, he dabs some onto my folds. Before I can process what is happening, he sucks them into his mouth.
I cry out, pressing against his fervent tongue. He growls hungrily and laps at the honey, coasting lower. He lingers at my entrance, tickling the outer edges until I relax and open slightly, allowing his tongue to push halfway inside.
The sight of Eurus pleasuring me sends another scorching wave to flood my insides. The burn, theburn. I release a string of mangled pleas, my voice growing hoarse. It is everything. Too much, yet not enough.
I dig my heels into his back, forcing my core harder against his mouth as he continues to lick ever deeper. The heat builds. I gasp, hips lifted. “There. Please. Oh—”
At the next hard suck, I shatter.
Ripples shudder outward through my core, and I keen, grabbing fistfuls of his hair as he anchors my hips, continuing to pluck at the raw, open nerves between my legs until the wave dissipates and I sag back into the chair.
“I can’t move my legs,” I whisper.
The East Wind barks out a laugh. Every crease of his smile, every awkward tug around his scarring, even the glisten of wetness coating his lips from where he tasted me… I have fallen for this god. There is no way around that truth. And I don’t know what to do about it.
We shift positions once more. Eurus draws me back onto his lap, our faces tucked close. My knees dig into the cushion, a soft squeak in the night.
“You’re in control,” he says, his features drawn sharp with hunger.
After positioning his cock at my entrance, I sink onto Eurus in measured increments, my body gradually adjusting to his girth. I feel every inch of him, from the solid base to the wide head.
“Good?” he murmurs, watching me through hooded eyes.
I nod, rising onto my knees. Then I sink back down.
I delight in the East Wind’s shiver, his focus honed to repress his body’s urges: to claim, assert, plunder. And that, I think, will simply not do.
Capturing his mouth, I increase my pace, a hard, brief fuck, until I manage to wrench a choked groan from him. Only then do I slow, soothing his throbbing cock with the warm clasp of my body.
“You’re teasing me,” he manages.
I smile. “Maybe.”
“Well, don’t stop on my account.” When I shift my hips forward a fraction, his cockhead grazes my front wall, and I falter, the waves of pleasure vaulting ever higher, sharpened peaks that shave my desire to the thinnest of blades.
The East Wind rests his head against the back of the chair, eyes hazy as I ride him. Eurus might be a god amongst gods, but here, now, he is a tool used for my own pleasure. And as I feel myself tightening, Eurus urges me onward, praising me withGood girl,andKeep going, bird, andI love the way you look when you’re fucking me.And I feel beautiful, empowered, strong, seen.
“Eurus.” I choke for air as his hands wander up my front, one settling like a heavy collar around my neck. The pleasure-pain is splintering my mind.
“Tell me how it feels, bird,” he grinds out against my mouth. “Tell me how I fill you. Tell me there is no one else.”
The chair squeaks in time with his thrusts. Through slitted eyelids, I watch Eurus’ expression grow strained, sweat beginning to bead on his brow. He demands the truth? I will give it to him.
