“Goddesses,” I groan, driving deeper. I bottom out, my cockhead grinding against the very end of her, and her body shudders around me, milking me. I can feel her cunt clutching, spasming already, gripping me like a fist made of wet silk. I pound her harder, faster, hips slamming into her, my balls slap against her; heavy and aching, tight with the need to release.
“Fuck me, Lorian. Rip me apart. Do it. Make me feel only this.”
“Atone,” I say, and I don’t even know what I want to hear from her.
She lifts her head towards the goddesses of forgiveness. “Forgive me for loving you,” she gasps, and her cunt squeezes down on me so hard I’m surprised I don’t come.
“Forgive me for being a monster,” I growl back, hauling her wrists higher and pinning them to the stone. I rut into her, savage, furious, and desperate. The sound of my thrusts are lewd, wet, filthy, and barbaric. My vision blurs. I press deeper. Then I explode, spilling deep inside her. Hot semen floods her small vagina, pumping in hard with heavy spurts. Too much for her human body to take—it gushes back out, thick and messy, running over her folds, through her fur, and down her thighs like a wounded animal. Still, I keep thrusting, my cock overstimulated, pushing my seed deeper even as it leaks around us.
I’m an animal.
Finally, when I can’t move my body anymore, I stop and hold her body to mine.
She breaks the silence and I welcome her anger. “Don’t make me forget what we did here. I want to remember that you had theaudacity to question whether I had a fucking soul, Lorian,” she says breathlessly.
I don’t answer her with words, but I untie her wrists. The marks on her wrists are vivid, angry red bands circling her skin. I rub them with my thumbs, then lift each wrist to my lips and kiss the dents I left there.
She collapses against me, hanging limp. I hold her upright, my cock still lodged inside her, my tears dripping into her tangled hair.
I ease out of her slowly, with a loud wet sound, followed by the spill of more semen that gushes from her cunt. Thick and white, it streams down her inner thighs, glistening under the shrine’s candlelight, dripping onto the stone floor beneath us.
I lift her into my arms and carry her to the cushions laid out in the corner. When I set her down, her legs fall open without resistance. Her sex is swollen, flushed, and still dripping.
She doesn’t close herself to me or to the shrine; instead, she lies back, completely free as she might be in her imagined Garden of Eden. And I silently thank the goddesses for her.
I wake at First Chime and realize my cock is still pressed to her thigh, damp with the mess that’s dried between us.
She stirs, whimpering faintly, and I wonder if we should go upstairs or just remain in the shrine for the duration of Rafe’s absence?
“We will continue,” I say.
EVE
I don’t understand what just happened in the shrine. Not in orderanyway, nor altogether. I only remember pieces. Like puzzle pieces, but I can’t put them together to see the big picture.
I don’t know what I proved or what I failed at today. I only know that whatever Lorian was looking for, he didn’t find it, and that means he isn’t finished with me.
So I do the only thing that feels safe, right now, I close my eyes, and I stop thinking.
59
DAY TWENTY-ONE, LORIAN
Eve kneels before me,whip in hand. “My turn,” she says.
I don’t hesitate. I bare my back and kneel on the cold stone floor. “Do it. Take what I allow.”
The neural whip cracks. The first lash is weak. The second makes me grunt. By the fifth, she’s found her rhythm, and hot blood is streaking down my back. And the rhythm of the pain and the pleasure of the whip is throwing me into ecstasy all over again.
“You like it,” she says.
“Yes.”
She lets the whip drop and roughly fists my cock. She strokes me once, twice, then pulls away. “Beg me, Lorian.”
I bow my head, reveling in my part, but say nothing.
“I remember how you called thistraining.”
