“No killing people. You.” My thighs squeeze, my sex aching to get more of him. “You.”
“And?” This evil man will be the end of me. “I already know you have a dirty mouth, Elowyn. Let me hear it.”
“Your cock.” Our lips brush as I say it. My need swells at the sound of the words on my tongue. “I want your cock, Duncan. I want you to fuck me. Do it.Fuck. Me.”
“Jesus Christ,” he groans as he sinks into me. He doesn’t give me a second to adjust to his size, to the sting, just holds my throat as leverage and rams into me. “So hot. So good. I’m going to fuck that pretty mouth later tonight. After I’m done”—thrust, moan—“pumping this pussy full of seed.”
The gold leaves peel from my skin, loosened by sweat and the brush of Duncan’s shirt as it grazes me. I don’t lament their loss. Not for a second.
Duncan is here, with me, kissing me like his life depends on it. Fucking an orgasm out of me.
“Keep doing that.” He breaks our kiss to press our foreheads together. His eyes are the darkest they’ve been, painted black with desire. “Milk me. Just like that. Fuck, you’re driving me insane.”
“Really?” The word is a gasp. A moan.
“You’re ruining me.” Every thrust hits deeper. But he isn’t just fucking me. He’s staking his claim on his woman. “You’re tearing me apart, little moon. I love it. I love you. I’ll live for you. I’ll burn for you. I’ll worship you until the day I die, you hear?”
“I’ll die for you too,” I promise, my voice hoarse, thick from the last orgasm as it tears through me. “I will.”
“Never.” The frame rattles beneath the brutal rhythm of his hips as they slam into me. “You’re not going to die for me or for anyone else. What youaregoing to do, though, is take my cum.”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to fill up this pussy.” His cock thickens as his release nears. It hurts in the best possible way. “And. You’ll. Have. My. Babies.”
Duncan grabs my ass as he comes, his teeth sinking into my shoulder.
As he spills himself into me, I don’t feel like a queen anymore.
I feel whole.
That’s better than any crown. Any title.
Any fucking thing.
I’m finally home.
26
DUNCAN
Early morning light slips between the curtains of my primary studio as I organize my workstation.
The brushes are now soaked in hot, soapy water. The new solvents are being arranged in their correct order, one by one. I wipe the dust from the tray next to my workstation. Put the spatulas, scalpels, and knives back, making sure to keep my white T-shirt and loose jeans clean.
The cotton balls and bone folder come last. A soft smile settles on my lips as I place them at the bottom of the tray.
They aren’t the ones I used on Elowyn, but they remind me of them. I have hers locked away in the gallery’s safe as they still carry her scent.
Some nights, when Elowyn is asleep, I get the sick urge to lift them to my nose and inhale her scent. To swipe my tongue along the bone folder.
I don’t ignore it. Ever.
Unsanitary, yes.
Fucked up, very much so.
But I’m possessed.
