My eyes slip closed, and my balls threaten to spill. I could fuck for hours without worry I would come too soon, but she tests everything I thought I understood about myself. Gripping her ass, I slam forward. She mewls in my ear, then drops her forehead to my shoulder to hold on for the ride.
I fuck her like a demon possessed. It’s messy and so fucking pure that every thrust is a struggle not to come. When Lore pleads, “Don’t stop,” and sinks her teeth into my shoulder, I can’t hold back. I come, jerking inside her as her walls spasm, milking me fucking dry.
CHAPTER6
Lore
Modeus’cock is still buried deep inside me, and knowing someone else’s mate just gave me the best orgasms of my life is a cold dose of reality, so why do I want to hunt the bitch down and gut her?
I’m going to blame it on that slight sting of pain I felt every time he bottomed out inside me. It was surprisingly addictive.
Just as soon as I can get my muscles to work, I plan on climbing off him, but I need a few seconds to recover. Without thought, I drop my head to his shoulder, and his hands tighten. He absorbs all my weight, proving he’s not just going to toss me back on the counter, and a soft sigh eases past my lips.
He makes a rumbly noise I feel through our joined chests, but then he clears his throat to cover it. I’m trying to decide what will be easier, pulling away from him or just staying wrapped around him like a spider monkey so I don’t have to see his face. Before I can choose, he backs away from the counter and hoofs it through my house as if he has a destination in mind. Maybe lust demons have a keen sense for beds, because he has no problem finding my bedroom.
When he lowers me gently to the side of the bed, I bend forward and get busy taking off my boots so I can dispose of my ruined pants. I know why I’m having a hard time looking him in the eye. I warned him he might hate me, and I don’t want to see that or regret when I look at him.
How am I supposed to go back to acting unaffected by him when I just rode his sonnet worthy dick like a fucking pogo stick? Not to mention I actually feel like I can trust him, and now I’ve gone and fucked that up also because I needed a break from reality. I could have gone to anyone else, but I wanted Modeus.
When I finally get the nerve to raise my eyes, Modeus is tucking his dick back into his pants. Such a shame.
I’m at a total loss of what to say or do. Should I let him know I understand it was just sex and I won’t tell anyone? Or should I let him know the truth—that I would be more than willing to go another round anytime he was available? I just hope I never have to see his mate. I should feel guilty for the things I would like to do to her, but I can’t muster up the effort.
Maybe she knows his nature makes it impossible for him to only be with her, but then why wouldn’t he have more than one mate? That’s not at all uncommon. I allow the thoughts to compile in my head because it keeps my mind off what else happened today.
Modeus peers down at me and uses the tip of his finger to tip up my chin so I have to meet his blue eyes instead of staring off into space. “Can I stay in here with you?”
I’m sure he can read the stunned look on my face. Of all the things I expected him to say, that was not even in the realm of possibilities. “Uh, don’t you have to get home…” I can’t bring myself to say “to yourbashert” or whatever he calls it.
“No, and I told you I’m not leaving, so I can stay here, downstairs, or in the garage if you insist,” he replies, as if he would sleep on the hard floor if I told him to.
I don’t understand where the hell this unearned fidelity comes from, so I ask. “Why aren’t you leaving, and why does it feel like I can trust you when you should come with a giant warning sign?”
One side of Modeus’ lips tip up, and he looks positively pleased with himself. “You should trust your instincts,” he says, and then he tilts his head and the light hits his ribbed horns. I’m usually not one to fawn over horns, and frankly, it might be because I’m a little jealous not to have any of my own, but his—just like the rest of him—are perfect. The golden markings that go from his jawline down his chest are one of the few things that outshine them, and maybe his eyes, okay, and his cock. It’s almost unfair how attractive he is.
“I don’t have an explanation as to why I can’t leave right now. I just can’t,” he finally answers, reminding me I posed the question in the first place but doing little to clarify it.
“I could make you leave.” The threat is empty, but he might not know that.
“You could, but you don’t want to.” He tips his chin down a little. It’s clear he’s confident, but there’s a note of vulnerability there too.
“Give me a reason to let you stay, other than I want you to,” I implore, because he’s telling the truth—I don’t want him to go.
Modeus looks at me for a few lengthy seconds, the silence stretching so long, I think he may not reply at all, but then he says, “Will you swear an oath not to run?”
I bolt to my feet. “I don’t run from anything or anyone.” Even standing in front of him completely naked in this soft form, I don’t feel the least bit intimidated or threatened.
His eyes rake up and down my figure, and there’s a challenge in his heated gaze, one I can’t help but rise to.
“I will not run. I swear it,” I bite out between my clenched teeth.
Modeus closes the small distance between us and picks up my hand. At first, I think he means to hold me in place, but instead, he draws my hand up and uses my fingers to caress the gold markings on his neck, tipping his head back as if my touch is affecting him even now. As he trails my fingers lower, he looks down at me with a hooded gaze. “Do you know what these are?” he questions.
I swallow the first word that comes to mind,beautiful, and shake my head. “These are my mate markings,” he informs me, and I almost snatch my hand back. It feels wrong to marvel over something that proves I have no business wanting him, but I can’t force myself to pull my fingers back.
Modeus releases his grip and pivots, giving me his back. My hand is still poised in the air, positioned over what looks like a seal on his back. I can’t control my gasp or the wild pounding of my heart. Why do I feel like I can’t breathe? And why am I watching my palm inch closer to his skin, as if I’m being compelled to touch him?
Modeus turns his head to the side, but I can’t tear my eyes away from the shape on his back. I know this symbol, I’ve dreamt of this symbol, and I know exactly what it means. My palm lands on his warm skin, and I finally look up, meeting Modeus’ eyes as he peers over his shoulder, watching me.
