Page 23 of Marked By Myth

Myth was a beast as he fucked me against the door, growling against my neck as he, no doubt, left a hickey. He’d always been into marking me as his so no one dared try to fuck with me.

My pussy fluttered around him, loving how he manhandled me, even though I should hate it, I needed it. Craved it.

“Adrian—”

My nails scored his bare shoulders, and he sucked on my neck harder, his hips fucked up into me at a ferocious pace. I was sore but I didn’t care, I needed it. I needed him.

Tears fell from my eyes right as I felt my pussy tighten around him and I cried out, “Adrian!”

He slowed his pace again, his mouth moving down to my shoulder, and over my collarbone, before going back over to the fleshy part of my shoulder.

“I’m going to have you coming so much you forget your name, baby,” he groaned against my skin. “But don’t worry, when you need it, I’ll remind you that your name is Rox Henning.”

With that, he fucked up into me hard and unrelenting again, his teeth pressing down into my shoulder hard. I cried out as my pussy fluttered yet again, my head becoming a wash of desire as I struggled to remain conscious. Darkness clouded in as the pain from the bite mark on my shoulder took hold and I felt my body start to float as Myth came in me again.

I wanted to tell him to stop doing that, but I had no words, as the darkness took hold, and I fell into the abyss.

Myth

Rox was out cold.

I’d carried her from the door when she’d passed out and laid her on the bed, carefully removing the shirt she’d “borrowed”. She looked so damn good in my clothes, I may need to buy extras so she could walk around in them for me.

“Kitten?” I said, moving her head from side to side. She was out cold, and her body was on display for me. Every delicate inch of it. She was flushed pink from the vigorous fucking, and I found that I loved the shade on her. I pinched her nipple and heard her delicious mewl, but she didn’t wake. I could fuck her awake, but I knew she needed some kind of break from it. My cock, although he was still hard and stiff for her, did need to recuperate at some point.

I left her on the bed, moving into the ensuite bathroom and wetting a towel before I came out and started to clean her up. Soft, slow movements of the towel over her sensitive flesh had her sighing in her sleep.

God, she was so fucking perfect. I liked the way she looked in my bed. How it was always meant to be.

The ink on her body was beautiful, large designs over her arms, down to her forearms, her thighs were covered to her knees as well, large designs of mythical creatures. A huge phoenix down one side and on the other, a large mermaid complete with tentacles from an octopus wrapping around the waist of the fish. She still had her tattoo over her hips, leading down toward her pussy. It had been the first tattoo I’d ever tried, and since she’d been a painslut, she’d come all over my lap as I tattooed her. It had been the single hottest thing I’d ever seen.

Actually, everything she did in bed was hot. But there was something about her crying out in pleasure as I inked her that had my hard even just remembering now.

Her chest and stomach were bare, and always had been, but she’d added ink to her arms since the last time I saw her, and I had seen her back was covered in little tattoos, including her tramp stamp that I knew she covered up when she could.

I moved my hands over her gorgeous bare skin, wishing I knew why she kept it so inkless. It was so different in comparison to the rest of her body. I loved every bit of her, but I wanted to see a tattoo right here, under her breasts. One that said Royal Bastards. And right here, over the top of her belly button, I wanted to see my name.

Fuck. I was hard just thinking about having her name on me. I was already tattooed on her. The sweet little tramp stamp had my name on her, covered in roses and barbed wire. It had been her first.

The second she showed me, I knew we’d be together forever. Because I’d gone out and gotten my first tattoo of her too. As of right now, I had three tattoos of her name on me, and although my skin was getting full, I’d always find a way to add more.

If she wanted me to.

The idea was forming in my head, and I could almost see it, right there on her skin. She’d be mad.

Fuck me, would she be mad, but she’d be mine.

No…I didn’t want to win her this way. I’d win her because she still loved me, more than that pompous prick back in London. The one who had her fingering herself when he wasn’t home because he obviously wasn’t getting the job done.

Just the thought of him putting his hands on her had my blood boiling. It was why I hadn’t put a camera in their bedroom. I didn’t want to jump on a plane and go beat his brains in before throwing my woman over my shoulder and dragging her back home like a caveman.

The sound of a tiny beep caught my attention and I moved over to the location of her skirt. There, on the side was a tiny pocket. I unzipped it and pulled out her phone.

She had multiple missed calls and messages from Beck.

Fucking asshole.

I wasn’t going to go through it, but my thumb swept across the screen when I was about to set it down. A passcode screen jumped up and I saw a moment where I could fuck her chances of going back home up.