This was so fucked up. So, I did the only thing I could think to make him hate me, to make him not have to endure the same shame I did for still wanting him.
“It wasn’t an accident,” I said. “He was my mother’s True Mate. She told my father—the man I thought was my father—and he had him killed.”
Jetsun didn’t speak for a long moment.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, pressing my palm harder against the glass, wishing I could reach through it, not because of the heat but to comfort my brother. “I know that isn’t enough, but it’s what I have. I wish I could change it. I wish they’d never met, that you’d never been left an orphan and raised by monks instead of parents.”
“I was sixteen,” he said. “They didn’t raise me. And I am glad I ended up with them. I’ve had a good life in the monastery.”
“That’s a nice way to look at it,” I said. “But I understand if you hate me, or at least can’t look at me without seeing the product of the affair that killed your dad.”
Jetsun shook his head slowly. “No. That wouldn’t be fair. It’s not your fault. And if they’d never met, you wouldn’t exist.”
“Would you really be sorry about that?” I asked, closing my eyes and letting my forehead touch the glass again.
“Of course,” Jetsun said gently. “But it just reminds me again of what a destructive thing love can be.”
“It can be,” I admitted. “But not all love is like that. We’ll just have to disagree on that. We had very different lives growing up, and that probably shapes what we want now.”
Jetsun’s eyes trailed up my body, and heat flashed across my skin, hardening my nipples and reminding me of the constant throb of my swollen sex. For a few minutes I’d forgotten, but the relief was short lived. Jetsun’s eyes met mine, and he reached out a hand, flattening his palm against the glass. “What do you want now, Princess Itzel?”
You. I want you. My god, do I want you.
“You know what I want,” I whispered, pressing my hand to the glass opposite his. We stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment.
Then Jetsun turned abruptly and walked away, raking a hand through his thick black hair. He stood at one of the counters staring down at his equipment, his hands fisted on his narrow hips.
I stood alone, fire racing through my veins, pulsing with every heartbeat, aching with a maddening need that couldn’t be quenched. I dropped onto my pallet, curling into a ball and pushing my hand between my thighs just to relieve the pressure.
I pressed my fingers harder, biting down on my lip so I wouldn’t moan out loud. Heat thrummed through my body, making me want to writhe and scream, tear myself apart with need. I rolled onto my back, sliding my hand down my belly while my other hand slid up, palming my soft breast. My nipples were swollen and sensitive, throbbing when I touched them. I should stop. I knew I should stop, that Jetsun could turn around and see me at any moment. But I couldn’t stop. The need had barreled into me, and I was caught in the runaway train of this screaming need, this incinerating heat.
Closing my eyes, I let my head fall back as I slid my hand under the waistband of my pants. The moment my fingers touched my scalding mound, my walls clenched and my swollen clit spasmed with sensitivity. I whimpered aloud and dipped deeper, sinking my fingers into my dripping slit. The sensation was almost excruciating, so intense I couldn’t find the line between pleasure and pain. Slick coated my fingers, and I pushed them eagerly into my entrance, a gasping cry escaping my lips at the swell of relief that slammed into me. I pumped my fingers deeper, frantically thrusting them into my hungry opening until my walls clenched around them. I arched up, wanting—needing—something deeper inside me. Wanting a cock to tear me open, to seed my depths and make me scream.
I pictured Jetsun’s cock straining inside his pants, and my clit pulsed rapidly against my fingers. I tried to push the thought away, to replace him with Kwame, or Lord Balam, or even Tadeu. But the crest began to recede, and I desperately needed this climax. I needed to release some of the pressure building inside me, as hot as lava inside my volcanic body. Squeezing my eyes tighter, I let the image of Jetsun come back, his smoldering eyes and full lips caressing mine while my fingers became his fingers pumping into me.
Tension gripped me, and waves of pleasure rocked through me. I cried out, letting the tsunami inside me crest, lifting me higher and higher. At last, it came crashing down, washing me under. When it receded, my hand was drenched, and even I could smell it now, something both sweet and salty, like salted caramel. I opened my eyes, reality coming back to me in little jolts.
Jetsun stood against the glass wall, so close his breath fogged in front of his mouth with each exhalation. He was breathing hard, his eyes glazed with lust.
“Did that help?” he asked, flattening both hands on the glass.
My eyes traveled down his body, down to the rigid length of his cock, and heat pulsed between my thighs again. “Not enough,” I whispered.
“Do it again.”
“What?”
“Take off your clothes first,” he said. “Then do it again.”
“But…”
“You’re the most magnificent creature I’ve ever seen,” he said, his hands pressing so hard against the glass that his palms were white. “I want to see you, Itzel. I want to see every inch of your beautiful body spread out before me.”
“No one has to know,” I whispered, searching his eyes.
He shook his head, his eyes never leaving mine. “No one.”
*
I did it again, and again, and again. At last, Jetsun turned and strode away through the dark, dropping onto his bed. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. Shame washed over me. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t stop myself from needing more. Not when he’d been gazing at me with such longing, as if he’d spent his whole life starving, only to see food out of his reach. I was that food. Nothing else in this world could ever sate his thirst. His eyes on me had been agony, but I hadn’t wanted to stop.
And oh god, he was my brother. I might not have known him all my life, but he was my blood brother. I wanted to cry with the shame of it, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t even regret it, not fully. My body didn’t care what he was. It wanted him, all of him. My body wanted to do more than I’d done, to be filled with more than my own fingers. With each orgasm, I grew hotter and hotter, until I thought I’d burst into flame. It wasn’t enough. Feeding the fire had only made it rage hotter, bigger, until it was consuming me from within.
I pressed my eyes closed and ground the heels of my hands against them, biting back a cry. I was bursting. I couldn’t hold it in.
Behind my eyes, blackness bloomed, and I welcomed it. I prayed for it to take me away from my body, away from the ravaging need.
Suddenly, a woman was swimming through the darkness behind my eyelids. At first, I thought it was my mother, but as she emerged from the blackness, I saw a stranger. Her raven hair floated around her, her dress billowing in the swirling, inky darkness.
“Go to him,” she said. “You can have him.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Lilith.”
“Queen of the Underworld,” I said. “Am I dead?”
“You’ve died and returned to this world. You’re a bridge now, too,” she said. “Don’t forget.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “Isn’t this the human world?”
“I can’t stay long in this world,” she said. “But I can come across your bridge for a moment.”
“Why are you here?”
“You called out to me,” she said. “You asked for help. I’m the goddess of love and sex, goddess of fertility and creation. Your anguish brought me here.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Go to him,” she said again. “If you want him enough, you can have him.”
“I can’t,” I groaned. “There’s a glass wall between us.”
“Glass breaks,” she s
aid with a sly smile.
“He’s a monk.”
“At last he has seen the vision he’s waited for his whole life,” she said. “He has been in the presence of a true goddess. He will worship you as people have worshipped your kind through the ages.”
“He’s my brother,” I groaned, pressing harder at my eyes, trying to chase away the hallucination.
“The only thing stopping you is your own mind,” she said. “Let go of the notion of should and shouldn’t, right and wrong, good and evil. All of this and infinitely more exists inside you, child.”
“I shouldn’t care that he’s my brother?”
“Your body knows what it needs. Give it what it desires.”
“I’m not strong enough to break the glass. I tried,” I admitted.
“You are more powerful than you know,” she said. “Go to him. Trust your body. Take what you need.”
“I need him,” I whispered. “I do.”
“Whatever you desire, it is in your reach. You only have to call it to you. Believe you are worthy. Reach out and pluck the fruit from the tree. It is ripe.”
I pulled my hands away from my eyes and stared up into the darkness. There was no woman. There was only me. I was more than ripe. My body was pulsing with erotic electricity. Every heartbeat was a shock racing through my boiling blood, thudding between my thighs with a yearning so deep I could feel it in every fiber of my being. My blood was molten iron. My bones, my marrow, glowed with white-hot energy. It oozed from every pore, slicked my skin, and dripped from my fingertips.
I stood and looked across the room at where Jetsun lay, his arm flung over his eyes. There was no fog of desire. Everything was crystal clear. I no longer felt conflicted or weak. I felt immensely, dangerously powerful. The energy swirled over me in currents I could see now. Strands of shimmering, swirling golden light radiated from me. It all came from the same place and came back to the same place, turning silver and then pure white as it reached my body. The beginning and end, the origin and expiration, the need and fulfillment.
My center. My core. My sex.
It pulsed like a heartbeat, a relentless rhythm like the mouth of a suckling child. Natural. Shameless. Timeless.
I walked to the glass. I could feel my juices sliding down my legs now, pooling around me in shimmering waves of heat and light. It flowed out of me like exquisite, succulent lava, and it wasn’t just my secretions. It was magic. I was magic. My bones were made of starlight, glowing like the sun had risen inside me. My blood was molten gold. My slick was moonlight. I swam through the starlight, floated through the sparkling sea of gold. I wasn’t a river, I was the source of all rivers. I wasn’t the the sun, I was the cosmos.
Magic flowed from me like life. Life flowed from me like magic.
Jetsun hadn’t moved, but I saw his chest rise and fall with each breath. I saw the torment of his relentless erection. I knew what I had to do. I stepped through the glass and walked toward him.
Twenty-Eight
Gao Jetsun
Demigod, Snow Leopard Nation
I’d fallen asleep eating honey from a jar, and now I was dreaming. I knew I was dreaming because Itzel rose and walked through the wall of glass as if it were made of air. Candlelight flickered off her golden skin, caressing her every ample curve—her glorious, full breasts with their dark nipples, the slope of her waist down to her full, wide hips. My cock throbbed, aching with the strain of staying hard for hours on end.
Itzel’s mound was swollen and red, too, and I could smell her wet honey scent from across the room. She walked toward me slowly, as if she, too were caught in the spell of a dream. Her dark eyes shone with desire and love as she stopped above me.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
I slipped the spoon into my mouth, sucking at the sweet honey before smiling up at her. “I’m eating honey.”
“Why?”
“Your sex smells like honey,” I said, because it was a dream and I could say those things to my sister. “I’m trying to cover the scent so I don’t eat that instead.”
Her lips parted, letting out a tiny puff of air. “Eat it,” she breathed.
My cock throbbed inside my pants, and my voice came out in a rough, strangled whisper. “Don’t do this.”
“Do what?” she asked, raising her hands to heft her round breasts. She lifted them, massaging them and squeezing her swollen nipples. A wave of her scent invaded my nostrils, and I plugged my mouth with the spoon again, sucking greedily as her fingers moved lower, gliding over her curves. I wanted my hands where hers were, my tongue flickering over her skin like the warm candlelight. She moaned as her fingers found her swollen mound. A drop clung like nectar to one of the swollen lips, as if she were a ripe fruit that had split, spilling its juices. Her palm kneaded the rounded softness before her fingers spread her dripping lips, revealing the pink slick within. Her knees buckled, and she sank beside me, holding herself open for me.
I sucked in a breath, my cock aching to plunge into that inviting, pink slickness, to be swallowed by the divine grip of her sweet cunt.
Itzel moaned softly as she began to sink her fingers into her sex in a slick rhythm, the soft sucking sounds of her wet flesh clutching her fingers and driving me to the brink of sanity. My mouth watered as I watched another drop of her nectar hang suspended for a quivering moment before dripping from her swollen pussy lips and trickling down her plump thigh, glistening like magic in the candlelight.
“Taste it,” I commanded.
Itzel lifted her fingers to her full, pillowy lips and slid them inside. She closed her eyes, her glorious lips pursing around her fingers as she sucked her own juices from her hands. My spoon clattered to the floor, and I scooped the honey from the jar with two fingers, thrusting them into my mouth and sucking greedily.
“Let me taste,” Itzel panted, her fingers fucking her forbidden entrance frantically again.
I grabbed another scoop of honey and lifted it to her mouth, sinking my fingers between her plump lips. She moaned and closed her lips around my fingers, and her rough tongue formed around my fingers like the walls of a tight, hungry pussy begging to be fucked until cum flowed from her like a river to hell.
But it was a dream, so I slid my fingers deeper into her hot, wet mouth that sucked so hard that a drop of cum squeezed from my cock. I moaned and slid them deeper, pumping them into the back of her throat and rising to my knees in front of her. I had vowed to live my life in simple worship of the divine living force of the world, and this was her. This was the only body I wanted to worship, the only goddess I would ever know.
Honey dribbled from her lips, strings of it falling over her breasts and down her belly. I moaned and leaned down to capture a drop as it trickled painfully slowly toward her erect nipple. My tongue lashed across her fevered skin, and she moaned around my fingers, plunging her own fingers harder into her cunt.
I slathered the honey across her heavy tits, sucking the sweet stickiness from her nipple, opening my mouth and taking in as much of her flesh as I could. She whimpered and buried her hands in my tangled hair, dampening it with her nectar. The scent of it invaded me again, sending my mind deeper into the fog of lust. I was lost already, too far gone to stop.
But no. I was only sucking her tits, not her pussy. I hadn’t touched her sacred, flowing cunt.
“Drink me,” she moaned, throwing her head back and opening her knees further as she knelt before me.
“I can’t,” rasped against her slick nipple.
She snatched up the honey and dipped her hand in, scooping up a fingerful of honey and burying it in her opening, spreading her lips and smearing it until it mingled with her wetness and dribbled down her spread thighs.
“It’s just honey,” she whispered, lifting my chin. My eyes locked with hers, a pleading in her wild, dark gaze that tortured my soul. She lay a hand on my chest and pushed me back, and after a second’s hesitation, I lay back on the bed, my fingers stealing one brush against h
er bare thigh.
I was already lost to this dream. I would just taste the honey, drink it as it dripped from her cunt. I didn’t have to touch.
She crawled forward and climbed over me, kneeling above my parted lips. I gripped her thighs and opened my mouth, letting the first drop of her sweetness honey my tongue. I saw worlds unfolding, blossoming with one taste. Worlds of endless pleasure, of deep green grasses and flowing streams, and a little girl running with black pigtails bouncing behind her. I lifted my face, my tongue lapping the juices first one thigh and then the other.
“Please,” Itzel begged. “Please fuck me. Eat me. Possess me. I’m yours, Jetsun. Body and soul. There’s nothing wrong with pleasure.”
“Even when it’s unnatural, when it leads to madness and death?” I asked, sucking the flesh of her thigh into my mouth so I wouldn’t go further, wouldn’t give in to the beckoning, begging opening of my sister’s hungry, willing cunt.
“Especially then,” she said, spreading her knees and lowering herself until she was a breath away from my lips, until I could feel the heat shimmering from her swollen sex that needed to be licked, and sucked, and fucked, and filled with the seed that swelled my balls, aching inside my cock until I nearly cried out for release.
With a groan, I gave in, wrapping my hands around her thighs and jerking her down, burying my face in her. I sucked her, ate her, fucked her with my tongue, letting it extend to its full feline length as she writhed and screamed, riding my face as orgasm after orgasm rocked through her. I could feel her contracting around my tongue, her tight, sweet walls plundered and licked clean as more and more cum flowed from her.
At last, she slid off me, and I fell back, exhausted and ready to fall into a deep sleep, deeper than this sweet dream where I could indulge a little, even if I never fucked her. But Itzel only grabbed my robes, tearing them off in one swift motion, then stripping my pants. For one second, I felt exposed, my swollen cock giving away every secret desire I possessed.
Hunted Princess: A Paranormal Dark Romance (Feline Royals Book 3) Page 20
