Page 17

Chapter Seventeen

Maeve

B alor gripped me by the waist, squeezing a gasp from me, and plucked me off the rib bone.

He repositioned me so my feet were planted on the ground—or at least on a bunch of roots that emerged from the soil to give me a good foothold—and my tummy flat against the giant rib bone. Bent over with my backside exposed.

“Too bad giants and humans can’t reproduce. Ya look so fecking breedable, bent over fer me like that,” he growled, the wolfish hunger in his voice making my pussy drip.

He dragged his claw-like nails up the back of my thighs and over the swell of my ass, hard enough to leave marks. It was a sweet sting, the kind that had me moaning in pleasure.

There was a rustle, and on the next beat, a sizzle and a plume of smoke wrapped around me. “Here, take a puff of this before we start.”

I twisted my head to see him handing me a pipe that looked like it was made of magic, judging by its translucent glow. “What is it?”

“Blackweed. Grows wild here. I believe ya have a plant similar in yer world.”

Curiosity had me grabbing the pipe and taking a hit. “Oooh, weed!” I exclaimed with delight at the familiar aroma, my butt giving a happy wiggle. I loved that in this fantasy realm with magical portals and monster fuckery, there was still pot.

The plant had a sour tang to it, but it was pretty much the same flavor as weed.

“Glad yer pleased,” Balor rumbled behind me. He set the pipe on the flat plane of bone beside me. “I’ll keep yer hands free so ya can take another drag, fer the pain.”

His fingers twisted into the hair at my nape and he pulled me back, forcing my spine to arch and lifting my torso from the rib bone. “But not too much, girl. I won’t have you numbin’ yerself to the point where you can’t feel me. Understand?”

I doubted there was enough marijuana in this world or the next for that, but I nodded. “I understand.”

“Good.” He released his hold on my hair and dropped his mouth to the patch of skin between my shoulder blades. He licked at my skin and released an evil laugh that slithered up my spine and around my throat. “I love it when ya shiver and shake for me.”

The roots beneath my feet wrapped around my ankles and slowly guided my legs apart so that I was spread for him. He rubbed two thick fingers over my labia, back and forth until I was trembling with anticipation.

I pushed against his fingers, desperate for more friction.

“So adorable.” He gripped the back of my head and guided it down so my cheek was flush with the rib bone. “So eager for yer mate’s cock, aren’t ya?”

I tried to nod as best I could. He was so huge, his palm swallowed my head, fingers covering my face. With a twitch he could crush my skull, just like he had with Conor’s.

The thought had me raising my hips, lifting my ass up in offering.

Fuck. Balor was right. I did crave the dark and demented. It felt good to admit that, even just to myself. I knew he wasn’t going to hurt me, and if he did, I didn’t care. That’s how fucking good it felt.

He arched over me, draping me in shadows that his flames cast on my body, making the visage of our tangled bodies flicker on the giant rib bone. “Are you ready for me to wreck yer wee cunt, Maeve McCrum?”

His voice was guttural, full of fire and violence.

“Yes. Please —”

His fingers left my center, only to be replaced by the head of his dick. It nudged against my center, slowly pressing forward. Parting my folds, and sinking inside at an agonizing pace.

His hands slapped over the rib on either side of my head, claws gouging deep marks into the bone, and he hissed between clenched teeth. “Slowly…”

He was speaking to himself, not me. Control wasn’t in his nature, he’d said so before.

Yet here he was, exerting every fiber of his will to ease himself inside with care.

Even with his gentle pace, and his efforts to prepare my body to accept him, it was a lot.

The ache as he slowly fucked into me had my nerves splitting, my blood stinging and my head whirling.

“Almost there, Maeve.” He muttered something, a curse maybe, in ancient tongue that only had hints of the Irish language I vaguely knew. “I think you’re going to take all of me.”

All of him? No, that was impossible. But then again, it felt fuller than I ever had before. Like I was about to rip at the seams.

I whimpered with every inch he fed into me. Gods, I sounded like some kind of dying animal. But the pathetic sounds only seemed to encourage him.

“Feck me, it’s been so long… I’ve waited an eternity for you, Maeve.”

All ability to articulate was gone. All I could do was nod and moan as he fed the last of his monstrous girth inside me. A strangled gasp crawled up my throat when something warm and smooth locked into place. “Wha—? What was that?”

“That was my cuff,” Balor rumbled, his voice full of grit. “Ya did it. Ya took all of me. Such a good human. Taking all of yer mate’s cock.”

I was so full, so stretched to capacity that my next moan turned to a sob. He twitched inside me, his growl melting into a purr. “What comes next is going to hurt even more, girl. But the pain will be quick.”

“T–then what?”

“Then ye’ll be mine ferever.”

His forever. Funny. That didn’t sound like such a bad fate anymore.

Balor drove into me with steady strokes, shallow at first, giving my body a chance to adjust. Then his thrusts became harder, deeper. He was long and thick, and I swore I could practically feel him in my throat, that heady flavor of his rich on my tongue.

I fumbled for the pipe, struggling to hold it and take a hit while he fucked me. The effects of the Blackweed had my head whirling and my muscles relaxing, driving me to new heights of pleasure.

“Tell me what you want,” he huffed, his barreling breaths punctuated with a growl on every jab of his hips.

“I want… I want… Your cum…”

“Say it again. Louder. I want the ghosts of all my kin to hear what a pathetic little whore you are. I want them to know that the last McCrum is no longer a monster hunter. Only a monster fucker.”

The pleasure, the pain, the praise and the degradation was the perfect concoction to send me hurtling over the edge. I babbled for his cum, begging and pleading, not caring how pathetic I sounded. At that moment, I felt like an animal. “Please. Please. Please, Balor.”

The more I begged, the harder he fucked me. I sobbed from the force of my orgasm, shell-shocked by his unrelenting force. As I rode the final ebbs of it, he bit down on my shoulder.

Unholy fuck. It was a mating bite, but it wasn’t like anything my books had ever described. Excruciating pain tore through my system and for a moment, I felt like he’d set me on fire. It was as if my immunity to his flames was gone the moment he’d bitten me.

It was more than a bite. He’d branded me.

The wound sizzled, his fangs burning my flesh with a white hot pain that had my brain shorting out. When I screamed, he came, and the torrent of cum filling me quickly washed the inferno away like a salve.

He came until he was dripping down my thighs. For several moments he didn’t pull out. He just held me there against the rib bone, showering the new brand on my shoulder with delicate and reverent kisses.

“That’s my girl. Ya did so good fer me,” he praised, his tone choked with emotion. “My human. My mate. My queen.”