by Renea Mason
I closed my eyes and answered the need. Grasping my cock hard, I slid my fingers up and down my shaft, allowing the liquid that seeped from the tip to lubricate my efforts.
Moaning from the wave of pleasure that flooded through my head, I increased the pace with the image of her lips taking the place of my hand.
An unexpected gasp caused me to sit up and reach for my weapon. Before I pulled the sword at my feet free from the sheath, I registered her form. Celestine.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize…” She looked down at the floor, her beautiful hair covering her face. In one hand she held the blindfold.
“Think nothing of it.” I stared at the floor knowing at any moment she could make eye contact. My cock pointed toward my face and mocked me with subtle twitches. It wasn’t going to settle.
“I mean… I… You’re not hideous.”
I laughed. “Well, thank you.” She needed to leave; every moment she remained, she risked my cock winning this battle of wills.
“You are beautiful.” The awe in her voice was tangible. “I’ve never seen a man like you.”
“Nor will you again.” I cleared my throat. “I don’t mean to be rude but what brings you to my quarters? Is there something you need?” Stanton’s lectures in my head were dangerously close to being slain by my all-powerful demon lust. I needed her to leave.
“Your arms…it’s stunning.”
I should have been insulted. My cock stood at full attention, ready, weeping even, and she focused on my arms. A product of my journey to this world, the branching patterns that covered my skin were scars—a painful reminder of where I came from. Humans found them fascinating, but that was usually with my pants on.
“It’s a…birthmark.” I tried to hold back my irritation, but the words were forced through clenched teeth. “As I said, was there something you needed?”
“Who is she?”
This was not a question I expected. Even though I was comfortable being nude, most humans were not. I saw in her mind what horrors men had bestowed upon her. The massive erection I sported should have frightened her, but with each quick glance I made in her direction, I saw she stood firm and resolute, while twirling the blindfold between her fingers.
“Who?” Not the time to speak riddles.
“The woman for whom that kiss was intended.”
“Oh.” I brushed my hands through my hair. The long, black strands fell one by one back into place. I sighed. “She’s my love. My light. But she is out of reach.”
“I have a confession.”
Where was Stanton when I needed him? Confessions were not my strong suit. When I’d created Stanton to save the dying son of an influential miner, it was my closest friend, a priest, who offered the third soul to form the trinity needed to create a new being. He embodied compassion and restraint. This was his territory, not mine.
“If you must.”
“I have received that kiss before. He left for war and never returned. My father says he’s lost to us, but I don’t believe him. I feel him in here.” She placed her hand over her chest. “He’s still out there.”
I had been so distracted by her abuse and my own selfish disappointment, I’d failed to see her love. She was as much a victim of hope as me. Now with every passing moment she lingered, my patience wore thin, or perhaps it was my control.
“I’m sorry. But why are you here?”
“Let me be her.”
“Who?”
“Your light. For just this night.” She took a step toward me.
“Celestine, I don’t need your sympathy. I can handle my…situation.”
Another step. “It’s not for you.” Her last word caught in her throat. She swallowed audibly. “It’s for…me.”
I wanted so bad to look into her eyes, but knew better. I vacillated between elation and irritation. Why was she doing this to me? I did not reply.
“Pour all of your love for her into me. All I ask is that you allow me to do the same.”
Speechless. Every time I became convinced humanity was damned, a creature like Celestine surfaced to remind me why my oath held so much importance.
Stanton would never call me a humanitarian for indulging her, but how could I not? I did not respond, instead watched her tiny bare feet walk toward me.
She placed her hand on my arm and climbed onto the straw-stuffed linens that composed my bed. The ropes squeaked and groaned under her weight. From behind, she looped the blindfold over my eyes and tied the cloth around my head, careful not to pull my hair.
“From this moment on, I am your light. You are blind to any other reality.”
“Do you not wish to know my name?”
“It matters not. Tonight you are my Ian.”
With that, I turned, grasped her head in my hands, and smothered her mouth with mine. My love for my chosen was powerful and consuming.
“I don’t know if I can be gentle. It’s not my style.”
“I would expect no less.”
I laced my fingers in her hair and forced her against my lips. My tongue pushed into her mouth, and she returned the kiss with fervor.
“I’ve waited so long.” Her white peasant dress hung loose at the shoulders, allowing me to slide it down her arms with ease. Once she was exposed to me, I cupped her cheeks with both hands and then trailed them down her neck and across her collarbone, landing on her breasts. Full, round mounds filled my hands. I squeezed, feeling the taut peaks press into my palms. She moaned.
With slow, lazy circles I teased her nipples, rubbing them hard and then pulling back so they received a feather-light touch. She arched into my hand.
“You tease,” she accused.
“Yes.” I dipped my head and sucked one taut nipple into my mouth, flicking it with my tongue. With my other hand I caressed and stroked the tip of the other with my thumb.
She cooed and panted as I sucked and nibbled until I couldn’t wait any longer. I reached between us, loosened the lacing on her under bust corset, and placed my hand on her hip, coaxing her to stand, allowing the dress to fall free to the floor.
Being blinded made everything feel more real. This was my destined lover, not a young woman with a generous gift. In this moment, she was mine and I was hers. The thought of belonging to someone after millennia alone was frightening, but liberating.
The cloth made a subtle whoosh as it landed on the floor. I reached out and caressed her sides, trailing fingers down and over her full hips. I pulled her to me, then rested my stubbled face against her stomach as I wound one hand around her thigh and coaxed her legs apart.
“Open for me.”
She did as I asked and my fingers soon encountered her soft, moist curls. I was pleased. Her body wanted this as much as mine. She was drenched with desire.
“You are so soft. So wet.” I ran my index finger between her swollen lips, sliding it back and forth until I encountered the tiny nub.
“Please.” She sighed and pressed her mound against my palm.
“Do not worry. I will not leave you disappointed. But I am a large man, and I want no doubt that you are prepared.” I increased the rhythm with my finger, this time penetrating her with just the tip on each down-stroke.
“I want you to come for me. Show me how much your body wants me inside you.”
I pulled her closer, and she writhed against me.
“Yes. Too long. Please.” A long groan left her lips as I plunged my finger deep inside. She gasped when I added the second, stretching her channel.
My hand moved faster and my lips kissed the soft skin below her breast. I pulled her tighter, delving deeper with each thrust, curving my finger to find that place that ached to be touched.
The shudder started in her hips and spread across her body.
“Oh. Oh. Oh. Yes,” she cried as her inner muscle clamped tight around my fingers, pulling me in further as a rush of liquid coated my hand and dripped from my wrist. The smell of her desire had my cock straining and aching with ne
ed.
Her legs grew rigid. I tightened my grip to keep her from falling. In my arms she shook and trembled as ecstasy took hold.
Her movement quieted, and she slumped against me and whispered in my ear. Out of breath she managed, “That was… I never…”
With that I removed my hand from between her legs, grabbed her by the hips, and threw her onto the bed.
“That was only the beginning, my sweet.” I reached out, ran my hands down her body, nudged her legs apart, and positioned myself. Outside of the brothel, most human females took a while to adjust to my size. My creator was overly generous.
I grasped my cock in my hand and leaned in until it touched her sopping wet opening.
I pushed forward with my hips, inserting just the tip. I listened for any sign of hesitancy—a groan, a whimper. Nothing. I pushed forward.
She was hot, tight, and deliciously wet. I fought the urge to rush, to bury myself to the hilt. She asked me for love, not sex, so that is what I would give her.
I rocked back and forth until fully seated. “Are you OK?”
She inhaled. “Yes. I’m fine, just so full.”
Nothing makes a man feel more like a man than pleasuring a woman. Supernatural or not, I was no different. Her words pleased me. Satisfied she could handle me, I moved. Small circular motions with my hips made her tremble. I rocked and thrust in short, sharp strokes until she panted, then I sped up to make good on my promise.
“So needed,” I chanted.
“I know.” She sighed.
My movements grew strong and confident as I pounded into her. Soon her body gripped mine, and I knew she was done. I bent down and wrapped my arms around her as she succumbed to pleasure. I dove deeper, urging her body to completion. With my face so close, she kissed me, and that was all the urging I needed.
My mouth crushed hers, and I groaned an almost growl as I took possession of her. She was my Light, the ghost that haunted me, and for that she would pay me for the lifetime of torture I had endured without her.
Thrust after punishing thrust, sounds filled the room—wet flesh on wet flesh and the rush of air leaving her lungs with each impact of my pelvis.
With one particularly desperate thrust, she gasped and the words, “I love you,” fell from her lips. Even though they were not meant for me, something in my soul made me feel as though she was a conduit, a deliverer. And her message I would receive. I increased my pace.
I could not allow myself to spill within her. The effect of my semen on human women was one thing I would not risk, and I didn’t want her to worry she might become pregnant. I could not father human children, but she did not know that. Only when I found the one, my Light, would I give her all of me.
A growl escaped my throat and my muscles went rigid as wave upon wave of pleasure conquered me. With one final thrust I pulled out and grasped my cock, allowing stream after stream of seed to coat her stomach. I could not see it, but shivered when her finger traced the head, then encased it in her hand, helping me milk every last drop.
I was resting on one hand and knee, my other hand still stroking my spent cock, breathing heavy, when she did something unexpected. She placed her hands on my back and urged me to lie against her. I released my grasp and succumbed to her unspoken request. Her full breasts pressed against my chest, and in my ear she whispered, “Thank you. I had almost forgotten how wonderful love was.”
“It seems I was in need of a lesson, too.” I kissed her forehead and pressed mine to hers. She went limp as I entered her mind. It was selfish to look, but to confirm the pleasure with absolute truth made the experience all that more satisfying. What I found shocked me.
There was post-coital bliss, but more so, guilt. Not guilt for lying with me as one might expect, but guilt for choosing her father over her love. She had asked him to go to battle in her father's place. He loved her so deeply he went without question. Losing her father would have devastated her mother and her five siblings. She could not absolve herself from putting her family, especially her louse of a father, before the man who held her heart.
I released her mind. After a moment she caressed my back. I rolled to the side.
She sat up, moved off the bed, and gathered her clothes.
I moved to sit on the edge of the bed. She stepped between my legs, kissed me on the forehead, reached around to untie the blindfold, and laid it in my lap.
“If you ever find a woman who loves you like that, never leave her. Even if she asks, never let her go.” Her red-rimmed eyes were not masked by the playful smirk she manifested for my benefit.
She would never let go of the guilt. It would forever stand between her and love. She turned, heading toward the door.
Before she reached it, I slammed it closed.
She gasped and dropped her clothes.
I grabbed her around the waist, pressing her face first into the door. Leaning over her, I pressed my lips to her ear. “I don't think your lesson is quite over.”
I dragged her with me back to the bed. She did not resist.
I sat of the edge of the bed, leaned her forward, and with a hand on her hip guided her back onto my rock-hard cock.
She groaned as she enveloped me.
The silky smooth skin of her back, the long trusses of russet hair, and her round heart-shaped ass fit snug against my thighs. Watching her undulate made my need all that more great.
Reaching up, I wrapped one hand in her hair and drew her head back. I sucked on the soft divot at the base of her throat and guided her rhythm with my hand on her hip as she slid up and down my length. This was what she needed—rough, commanding, absolution.
“It's not your fault.” I pushed hard this time on her hip, thrusting deeper.
“Yes, it is.” The sob in her voice evident, but I didn't let up.
“Do you think for one minute he would have made any other decision?” I pulled harder on her hair, which caused her to thrust her breasts forward. She was beautiful, round, and full.
She panted. Through thick words she managed to whisper, “I don't know.”
I slammed her against me hard and snaked my hand around her hip and found the mass of moist curls. My finger found her sensitive spot, and I rubbed her in slow circular motions, pressing harder as I forced her down onto my straining cock.
“I know for certain. I would suffer a thousand deaths for her. Don't deny him his right to love you.”
She squirmed and moaned. I groaned.
“But…”
I swallowed her objection, turning her head, careful to keep my eyes closed.
I released her lips and wished to wrap mine around her luscious nipples, but this wasn't about me. It was for her. It was my chance to give back.
“But nothing. Let him love you by acknowledging his love. And honor him by not allowing that love to die should he happen to perish.”
Another hard thrust.
She whimpered.
I pressed harder on the point between her legs, feeling each stroke of my cock with the tip of my finger as I entered her. It fed my arousal.
“Oh please. Please.” Her ass slapped against my thighs with her frantic movements. She was on the edge.
I slowed my pace to make my demand.
“Promise me that you'll let go of the guilt?”
“Don't know if I can.”
“You can.”
I paused, stopped moving my finger, then thrust hard.
She must have sensed my eminent withdraw because she forced herself on to me, trying to gain more contact.
“Please.”
“Only if you'll forgive yourself.” I wiggled my finger the tinniest bit to keep her on the edge. “Succumb to me. Give me all your worries.”
She pressed her head hard against my hand, her hips moved in circular motions. From her lips fell the word, “Yes.”
I groaned and pulled her as tight against me as possible. Burying myself deep within her. I held her head snug against my shoulder with my fist entwined in he
r hair. Her back arched as her core stroked my needy cock.
“Give me all you have.” My finger pressed hard, and her writhing form was magical as I took all she had to give.
What left her mouth was somewhere between a groan and a scream. Her legs grew stiff, and her nails scored my knees, gripping them like a vice as she shook.
Our pace slowed as her muscles squeezed tight, bringing me to the edge.
She continued to move while she recovered from her high, but when her passion dripped from my thigh, I was consumed by desire.
Two hard thrusts let the rush take hold, and I withdrew, spilling on her back. I watched as tendrils of white formed ribbons on her creamy skin. There was something satisfying about leaving my mark on my lovers. Though temporary, for some reason it seemed to validate the moment.
I rubbed my hands up and down her arms as I gained composure.
She wrapped her arms around herself and placed her hand on mine.
She then turned and knelt before me.
I closed my eyes.
She stroked my cheek. “I won't ask how you knew, but my thankfulness is everlasting.”
“As is mine.”
She placed a soft kiss upon my lips, then grabbed the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around herself.
She turned, and I watched as she walked to the door. Her ass flexed under the shadow of the sheet, and her confident stride showed she was not a victim in our encounter, as she had been with the men who came before me.
As the door closed, I sighed and pondered all that happened in the past few hours. Never had I received such a profound gift. She didn’t lie with me because she had to, because she was aroused or desperate, but rather because she wished to share the greatest of human gifts—love. Love, of all things! With a creature who had never been granted the capacity.
* * *
The next morning Rhys and I met in the tavern, ready to resume our tour.
I thanked the owner for the quarters, his gift, and wished his son a full recovery.
