Jesus Christ, she’s stunning.
“Please,” I rasp, barely coherent. “Use me. Sink those new fangs into my flesh. Make me bleed, Aurora. Take what’s yours. My body and my soul, my entire existence belongs to you. Be rough with me. Make me feel everything.”
The goddess moans before lowering her mouth to my neck, nipping and licking while my fingers stay buried inside her.
She tightens her grip in my hair, then yanks.
No hesitation. No mercy.
Just pure, divine control.
And when she bites me? The shadows tremble, aching to bleed for her.
One slips along her thigh, desperate to taste her. A few tendrils wrap around my waist, clinging to me, keeping me here. For her.
Her fangs split me open, and I finally understand what mortals mean when they speak of gods. I groan as my blood hits her tongue, my shadows tightening in shared ecstasy—teetering between danger and divinity.
The pain is pleasure. The blood is devotion. And for the first time ever … I feel beautiful. Not despite the shadows, but because of them. Because she sees them. And still wants more.
When she drags her fangs along my throat, the shadows writhe and press close, like even the darkest parts of the universe ache to hold her.
They know who their queen is.
“Quaeso, reginula mea. I need you. I need your teeth in my throat, your cunt on my cock, fuck,anything. Just … don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”
“You’re such a good boy, Ezra.”
“Ja pierdole…” I whisper against her shoulder.
Her body vibrates with hellish power. Mine vibrates from the pleasure of her raw, commanding words. Aurora runs a hand across my chest as a soft smile plays on her lips.
“Do you wish to please me, shade?”
“Yes, Aurora. I want nothing more.”
“Good boy. I want to ride your cock, Ezra. I want to use you. I want to feel you deep inside of me. I want you to fill me with your cum and mark me as yours,” Aurora growls as she pierces my earlobe with a fang.
“Vasvasegar-e lanati…” I whisper under my breath. Such a little tease.
My shadows circle us, starving predators wild and ready to tear the world apart if she so much as whispers.
And the primal thing buried deep inside of me, the one I’ve caged for millennia, rattles its bars and forces a dark promise up my throat—its fingers stretching toward her cheek before I choke it back down.
Al?t me fram þissum sceadum.
A command. Not a request. It doesn’t beg. It’s waiting for me to break.
A shudder rolls up my spine. If I break—if I let go—she won’t be riding the Ezra she knows. She’ll be riding the thing that worships pain as much as pleasure, that takes devotion to the edge of destruction.
And maybe I should be afraid of that.
But I’m not.
Because part of me wants to see what happens when she begs the monster to fuck her instead.
Aurora
A wild shiver surges through me as something ancient opens its eyes.
