How to Tame a God (Wish City Book 2)

by Lyssa Dering

  My scalp tingles where he touched me. “I know.” I trace the knobs of his spine. “I want to cut you open.”

  Wish scoffs softly. “That’s intense.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re hard as a rock now.” Wish buries his fingers in the longer strands of my hair and tilts my head to the side. He kisses my cheek with an open mouth. “Ready for me to fuck you?” he whispers, and I can feel his breath on my face.

  Nervousness flutters through me. But it’ll be easier for me if he fucks me because I won’t have to worry about what my dick is doing. “Yeah. Fuck me.”

  Wish massages my hip bone. “There aren’t STDs here. Do you still want me to wear a condom?”

  I’ve never had anyone inside me bare. “I… I guess not.”

  “You’re sure? ’Cause I’m gonna touch you deep.” He mouths lightly at my earlobe. “Be all over you, in you. A stranger.”

  Wish doesn’t feel like a stranger. Part of me wants to push him away, but part of me wants to go limp and let him do whatever he wants. Which is dangerous, but I still rut and catch my dick on the band of his boxers.

  “I give you permission to fuck me without a condom,” I say.

  Wish fishes his cock out of his boxer slit, and his knuckles brush my shaft in the process.

  I shudder. I pull Wish down by the back of the neck and taste the corner of his mouth, his tongue, his teeth. Wish’s breaths are shaky and warm against my damp lips.

  “I can make your hole wet with my power,” he says. “We wouldn’t have to use any other lube. Is it too weird?”

  “No.”

  Wish kisses me. My hole tingles and warms and makes moisture dripping out of me like fresh cum.

  “Oh,” I breathe.

  “You like it?”

  My face is burning. I nod as I bend my legs back for Wish.

  “Me, too.” Wish slips his hand into my crack and massages around my wet hole. “I keep creating people to fuck, but you’re different. You don’t do what I want.” He nudges me with his finger. “I like it. You’ve got me so hard.” The way his voice breaks over the word hard makes my stomach tumble. Wish works me open, and I wonder if he could make my hole bigger with his power. The idea twists through me like wire. He could do anything to me.

  Wish slides his fingers out of me and meets my gaze. “Look at you. You’re a mess.” He trails a slick finger along my jaw. “You still in there, babe?”

  I nod and reach out to him. We kiss, and his tongue meets mine, languid and gentle. I want to keep him close, but he fights my hold, and he brings his hand to his dick.

  “I’m going to fuck you now.”

  “Fine.”

  With one hand pressing against my chest, Wish pushes in. Not for a single second does it burn. I love Wish City. Once Wish is fully seated—

  Oh, Universe. I moan, and Wish laughs.

  “I made my dick a little longer for you.” My legs are jelly as he thrusts into me, never fully moving away from my sweet spot.

  It’s almost too much, like I’m strapped to a sex machine with nowhere to go. I shake uncontrollably and make embarrassing noises.

  Wish grabs my dick with a magically slick hand and stares into my eyes, and for a second, I’m outside myself, floating above the room and watching myself in my past partners’ place, so overwhelmed with sensation I can barely function.

  “Is this what you wanted?” Wish asks in a strained voice.

  Almost, my mind answers. I fall back into my pleasure-soaked body, and that familiar pain twists through my chest again. Why am I like this? Why? I need to be hurting Wish, or at least affecting him, but he’s back to being the confident lover who thinks he can make me melt with no effort.

  I touch Wish’s face and stroke the lines of phantom tears. “Wanted—” I scowl. Talking is hard.

  Wish kisses me on the temple, and some of the pressure inside me lets up as he pulls out a fraction. “Tell me, babe. It’s okay.” He trails his mouth over my ear. “I know you like kisses, but what will make you crazy?”

  I laugh. Crazy? That’s easy. But it’s a naïve thing to ask for. Wish will say no.

  “I— I wanted—” A voice in the back of my mind tells me to shut up. Why ruin this moment with something Wish probably won’t be into? I haven’t prepared for this. I haven’t put it in the framework of kink, Dom and sub, limits and needs. There hasn’t been a negotiation.

  But I strangle that dissenting voice in the end. I gag it with hope. “I wanted to make you cry. With my power.”

  3

  Wish

  Lake’s answer hardly comes as a surprise. It’s what every special wants—to use their power freely, even better if they can do it in front of someone who will accept it as the world didn’t do.

  I continue to shove my cock in and out of the tight, slick grip of Lake’s hole. He quivers every time I move. I could milk him like this if I wanted, probably: slow and steady until he erupts with a strangled cry, but maybe another time.

  I give him a particularly hard thrust. “Me blubbering on top of you? That’ll get you off?”

  Uncertainty flashes in Lake’s gaze, but then he nods. “Please.”

  I figure it can’t be that bad. A few tears, a quivering bottom lip. Then maybe Lake will adore me as my followers used to, and I won’t feel like a failure for not controlling my city.

  “Do it then,” I say. “Show me your power.”

  Lake grips my arm, his gaze a little more lucid than before. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” I lean down and nuzzle his ear. “Make me cry, Lake.”

  Lake makes a sweet little noise. Has he ever done this with someone, or has he only harbored the desire in secret, never acting on it for fear of the government coming after him? I get harder thinking I might be his first.

  He pulls my head back by the hair, sending a little burst of pain through my scalp. He holds the sides of my face with eager, trembling hands and stares into my eyes as if he’s trying to reach into them.

  I curl my toes and force myself not to shove his hands away. This might not feel good. It might—

  I burn. My chest, nose, tear ducts. My eyes well, tears spill, and my stomach roils with an extreme sadness that makes me cry out. I crumple against Lake’s body and hug him like an anchor as I can’t help but sob. This is way worse than I expected. Amazingly, my erection doesn’t wilt. I cry as I fuck Lake, gripping his shoulders and digging my nails in.

  “It hurts,” I say.

  “Shh.” Lake rubs my back. His legs interlock around my waist, and he pants against my ear. “It’s okay.” His words are at odds with the wrecked quality of his voice. He’s loving this, isn’t he?

  I chase pleasure like an antidote to the pain inside me. Is Lake keeping it up, making my sadness last? I sob louder and fuck harder, a part of me wanting to hurt Lake back. But even in duress, I make sure we’re lubed up, willing Lake’s hole to make more slick and my cock to pour precum.

  Lake grips my upper arms. “Please let me see your eyes.”

  I push myself up. One of my tears falls onto Lake’s cheek, and he moans, his face going slack with ecstasy. Is he coming? But no, his cock is still begging for release, hard and dark and dry.

  I stroke it for him and pound into him with all my strength. I must be hitting his prostate. But the ecstasy on his face turns slowly into creased-brow frustration. He grunts and rolls his eyes like it’s all just useless.

  “Hey.” I grip his jaw.

  He shoves my hand away and covers his eyes. “Don’t.”

  I stop thrusting and wipe at my cheeks. No new tears are coming, at least. “Don’t what? Give a shit about your pleasure?”

  Lake uncovers part of one eye. “It won’t work. Just fuck me until you come.”

  It’s almost as if I didn’t try to convince him to do the same thing to me a few minutes ago, and Lake refused. He wanted to make it good for me, and dammit, I’ll make this good for him.

  I grab Lake’s hand and kiss th
e back of it. “Why won’t it work?”

  Lake groans. “You’re not into it.”

  I can feel the arousal slipping out of my skin, but as a rule, I don’t mess with my own pleasure. There’s no fun in it. “What does it matter? You’re into it. This isn’t just about me.”

  Lake shakes his head.

  “Would you like me to use my power to make you come?” I ask.

  Lake snaps all his attention onto me—as if there isn’t a single other process going on in his complex mind. “You can do that?”

  “Mhm.”

  Lake licks his lips. “Um. No. No, I’d rather…” He touches my face, and I understand now that he’s tracing tear tracks. He said earlier he wanted to cut me open, and here we are. “Can you handle more crying?” he asks.

  I grit my teeth. I want to ask him why, and what the fuck is wrong with him that he wants to hurt me? Who is into this? But that isn’t what you do when somebody has a fetish, and I won’t make him feel shitty for wanting to use his power. At least, I’ll try not to.

  “Yeah.” I glance down at where our bodies remain connected. I’ve never felt unsure with my dick in another guy, but…

  “I can get on top,” Lake says. “Allow you to let go. Ride you. It still feels good even if I don’t come.” There’s a glimmer of enthusiasm in Lake’s eyes. So, I get on my back.

  Lake crawls on top of me and lowers himself onto my cock. “You’re really beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  His gaze locks on mine. He rides me, and I wait for the tears, but for a while, it’s just fucking. I can’t believe he won’t be able to come with how stiff his dick is, bobbing in the air as he moves his hips, sending pleasure radiating through my bottom half. I start to relax into it.

  Then, Lake leans down close, and I know the pain’s coming. It starts as sinus pressure between my brows and in my nose. Then my chest twists, and my eyes well, and Lake turns blurry as he keeps riding me and looking at me.

  I sob like before. I clench my hands in the sheets and ache all over as pleasure takes a back seat to Lake’s power tearing into me like an animal.

  Lake kisses me. I put my hand in his hair and pull hard enough to make him whimper, but he doesn’t seem fazed. He nuzzles my tear-streaked face and whispers, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Then he licks my cheek.

  I don’t know how it happens. I end up on top of Lake again with my hand at the base of his throat. Sadness is still winding through me like angry vines, their thorns catching on my insides, but I’m the animal now, growling and showing my teeth. “Cut it out!”

  Lake drops his arms above his head in a show of innocence. “I-I’ve stopped.”

  I want to choke him until his whole head gets as dark as his cheeks are right now, but I won’t. “I’m ready to come, and I want to fuck you rough to get there. Do you consent?” I fucked him pretty hard earlier, but that was when I was intent on making him come. Now, this is for me. Tit for tat.

  Lake’s eyes get big. “How rough?”

  I lean down and drag my teeth over the shell of his ear. “Hard fucking. A little choking, but I won’t really hurt you.” I kiss his ear. “You can say no.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Can I cover your mouth, too?”

  His hair brushes my temple as he nods. Power takes the place of whatever sadness Lake left behind in me as I put my hand over his mouth and shove my cock into him.

  “Fuck.” He feels fantastic. It’s as if he’s been teasing my body for hours, and my cock is so ready to erupt inside him. I grunt and growl and rut like a dog, relentlessly climbing toward the peak of pleasure.

  Lake wraps his arms and legs around me and makes little noises against my hand.

  I slide that hand lower and grip him under the jaw, squeezing him in a blood choke as I ram into him. I lay off the choking and pound—pound— Oh, Universe, I’m close. So close. “I’m gonna come.”

  “Come,” says Lake in a sweet, broken voice.

  A moan leaves me as my orgasm hits. I empty my balls into Lake with a few ragged thrusts and pant into his neck. He’s so sturdy. I could fall asleep right here…

  Lake taps my shoulder. “Get off.”

  “But I don’t wanna move,” I slur petulantly.

  “Come on. I need to jerk off.”

  My endorphin-soaked brain can’t quite comprehend the words, but I pull out and drop onto my back next to Lake.

  Lake rolls onto his stomach and lifts his hips. He spits into his hand and reaches beneath him, and Universe, he really is jerking off right next to me. It’s bullshit he won’t let me help. If I was a more sensitive guy, it’d probably fuck with my afterglow.

  But I didn’t ask Lake for sex because I wanted to be lovey-dovey. That was what he wanted. Hypocrite.

  I let my eyelids droop as drowsiness licks at me. Lake makes a muffled noise and collapses, sending the mattress squeaking.

  I wave my hand in the air. “There are tissues here…somewhere…” Under the bed, probably. “Bathroom’s across the hall.”

  The mattress jostles as Lake scoots to the edge of the bed. “You want me to sleep with you?”

  I glance up to find Lake’s gaze as cold as it was when he first showed up here. Maybe this sex didn’t mean anything to him after all.

  “Up to you,” I say. “There’s a bedroom next door.”

  “I’ll sleep there.” He goes to get his clothes and walks out of the bedroom naked.

  I couldn’t have made a better ass myself.

  Lake

  I laugh at myself in the bathroom mirror.

  That could have gone worse. I feel vaguely nauseous, my fingers are shaking, and I came in front of another person for the first time in like six months, but all in all, I’m not dead or anything.

  Except I am dead.

  I laugh harder.

  I need to get clean. It can’t be healthy to want to scrub someone off you after making love, but I want it all gone. The dew from earlier, Wish’s breath against my ear, that perfect, magical tear that dripped from Wish’s eye and landed on my cheek. It doesn’t feel right, or it was too much too soon. I don’t know.

  In the claw-foot bathtub, I find a bottle of shampoo/conditioner/body wash that purports to smell like rain-soaked stone. It does, I think. I run a hot bath, sink into the steaming water, and clean every bit of cum and sweat from my skin. That’s better. I relax into the wet warmth and close my eyes and try not to think about the syringe with the Rohypnol and the plastic bag.

  I’m dead. No, I’m alive again in Wish City. I met the man himself, and I let him come inside me, and I made him cry. I tasted his salty tears. He didn’t like that. Got defensive, dominant. Fucked me hard in retaliation. I don’t like my men like that—too Dom to let me at them, or too vanilla. I don’t know. Wish doesn’t want to step down from his pedestal; he wants to stay powerful all the time.

  I get out of the bathtub. Wish has the softest, fluffiest towels in existence, and they’re almost as big as a blanket. I wear one into the hallway even though I’ve got the robe and hesitate at Wish’s open door. He’s asleep beneath the stars, all spread out on his king-sized mattress. I could still join him, probably, but even though I warned Wish I don’t do casual sex, I didn’t come here for a megalomaniac boyfriend. I came for freedom, and sometimes my vision of freedom includes a sweet boy who loves to cry and get comforted afterward, but Wish isn’t that. He’s left me…cold.

  The bedroom next door has a ceiling. It also has a desk, and I leave the towel draped over the chair in front of it and set my boxers and robe on the seat.

  There’s something on the desk: paper folded in half and standing like a place card. I snatch it up and fumble with a nearby lamp until yellow light illuminates the card, which bears my name in an elegant metallic script. The inside reads:

  Hello and welcome to Heaven, Lake. You’re invited to explore a part of Wish City you won’t be able to see with Wish breathing down your neck. As soon as you’re out of
his house, come to the Crimson Room inside Club Neon.

  Signed, A Friend

  P.S. Don’t tell Wish anything about this, or he’ll ruin our fun. See you soon.

  I flip over the card and find an address stamped on the back: Club Neon, 200 Wonderland Drive, Wish City.

  Interesting. If what this “friend” says is true, there are things going on in Wish’s own city that he doesn’t know about. After everything that transpired tonight, it makes my head hurt trying to figure out how that could work. Wouldn’t the Universe personified be aware of everything happening in every nook and cranny at once? But Wish is human, I guess. He isn’t the Universe. He just has a power bigger than anyone else’s.

  I take the card with me to bed and hide it underneath my pillow. I could slip away tonight, maybe. Leave the inevitable, impending awkwardness between Wish and me behind. But no, no. I’m not going anywhere in a robe and boxers, and this bed… It feels so good…

  Wish

  I’m dreaming again—one of these lucid ones I can never wake up from on purpose. I’m standing in front of a gilded mirror inspecting my face. Why do I have eyeliner on?

  “I want to impress Lake,” I say. Stylized floods of black tears tattoo themselves beneath my eyes. “Do you think he’ll like this? Or is it too much?”

  Romy, an acquaintance of mine, is in the room with me. She used to have green hair, but it’s purple now and cut in a severe pixie.

  She tilts her head. “It’s maybe a little on-the-nose, but it’s thoughtful.”

  “Hmm. I need to be subtler. Don’t want to come on too strong and freak him out.” I trace one of the tattoos before they both disappear. “Lake is going to love fucking me, though. He won’t have to jack off to come like he did with him.”

  Romy appears behind me in the mirror. “What was it he said? That he didn’t do casual?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Neisha’s like that. The first time we hooked up, we had to stop in the middle. It was awkward.”

  I scowl. “How long did it take for her to come around?”

  Romy shrugs. “A few months?”