Confetti pops throughout the room, and slowly trickles to the floor along with hundreds of pink and red balloons. It’sbeautiful, but not nearly as special as the way Death looks at me while cupping my jaw.
The big red heart with gold numbers drops, ringing in a new year of love. His gaze never leaves me, as I take in the Love New Year surrounding us. He swoops down, picking me up and kissing me even more passionately than before.
“Happy Love New Year, little cupid,” he says against my lips.
I lick my lips and blink at him. Realizing that cupids are undressing around us. We haven’t really talked about what happens after the countdown. I mean, he said he had an idea, but does that mean he actively wants to take part?
Me and my vagina absolutely want him to take part, but only with me. I totally approve of the free-spirited sexual nature of being a cupid, but when it comes to Death, sharing isn’t even on the table. I want him to feel possessive of me, and to take care of me, but more than anything I want him to feel comfortable.
“We don’t have to stay,” I tell him breathlessly.
He looks to our left, where Eros is glaring, an irritated Juliet at his side. I don’t even care what they think, but there is a side of me that wants to rub in just exactly how much better off I am.
“Maybe a little show before I hoard you away for my own personal viewing pleasure,” he says in his deep voice.
It sends a zip of desire down my spine.
When he falls to his knees in front of me, kneeling before me, I nearly combust on the spot. He rubs his face against my dress-covered thigh, and I gasp in surprise.
“What are you doing?”
“Showing him how you should have been worshiped all this time, what we all know only I can give you. And selfishly, I want to see what your pretty pink cunt tastes like,” he says with a smirk.
I don’t have a pulse to check, but I think I leave the realm for a moment. Have sexier words ever been spoken? Also the waythe word cunt rolls off his lips makes it sound both dirty and precious at the same time. The word is truly underutilized in my humble, cupid opinion.
Death takes his time, grabbing the hem of my dress and slowly pushing it up my legs. He places tender soft kisses up my legs as he inches my dress up my thighs. I have nothing to hold on to, so I just run my fingers through his soft hair and stand there while this reaper is on his knees for me.
I don’t think I’ve ever been more turned on by a sight in my life. For the rest of my eternal life, I’ll remember this moment and how reverent it feels. Death looks up at me like I’m a queen and there’s no place he’d rather be than having his knees pressed against this confetti-riddled floor, showing me his adoration.
His lips are gentle against my legs as he bunches my dress around my hips and grips the back of my thighs.
Death runs the bridge of his nose along the seam of my panties, taking a deep inhale and licking the fabric, leaving a wet trail in his wake.
I can’t keep my eyes off of him. We’re back in our Valentine’s Day bubble where only we matter, and I never want to leave.
He looks at my pussy with heavy-lidded, lust-filled eyes and I know I’m going to combust as soon as he touches me.
There’s moaning all around us, cupids celebrating the Love New Year the way we always do—openly expressing our love for one another. But all that exists for me is this reaper and the unbridled lust between us.
His large hands grip my ass as his fingertips grab the waistband of my panties, and he slowly, nearly torturously, slides them down my legs.
I’m bare from the waist down for him, while he just stares for a moment. A loud guttural moan leaves him, before his lips press against my dripping center and he starts to devour me.
I’m sure the cupids who aren’t currently lost in their own state of lust are baffled by me on my knees for the tiny cupid in front of me.
But I don’t care.
I want them to watch. To see what I see; that Love is wonderful, free, and deserves to be worshiped. They should make a fucking gold-plated statue in her honor and keep it in this ridiculous banquet hall. On the other hand, no, I don’t want everyone constantly looking at her.
I really wanted to smash Eros’ face in from the moment he interrupted our kiss. When Love’s expression faltered while he was attempting to degrade her, I considered murder. He doesn’t have a fucking soul, but for the first time in my life I wished I actually had a scythe and could take someone out on my own accord. His only intention was to hurt her feelings, to make her feel less than.
Jokes on him because Love is fuckingeverything.
As much as I want to show Love how perfect she is, I also plan on proving to her that she needs me, that this needs to be more than just one night. There’s simply no way I can just leave satisfied after only one night of her, and I’ve only barely had a taste.
I finally have her bare from the waist down, her pretty pink cunt glistening with shimmery wetness. I can’t help but stare for a long moment. It’s been far too long since I’ve been intimate, and looking at her now has me wanting to eat her whole.
So I do.
