Page 49 of Devil’s Doom (Jaga and the Devil #2)

Chapter forty-nine

Father

He swallows audibly and takes my hand, rising in a seamless, fluid motion. We walk into the lake, and I run my hands down his back and firm buttocks. He caresses me under water, fingers sliding down my ribs and hips, then back up, until he grips my breast with a soft gasp.

“There is something about these,” he murmurs as if to himself, while his thumb presses down on my hard nipple. “They just… Just…”

He turns his palm until his hand cups me, warm and enveloping, and he makes a hoarse sound of understanding. With his other hand, he covers my second breast and cocks his head to the side, adjusting his hold until he’s pleased with the result. I huff with laughter, charmed by his studious approach to my body.

“See?” he asks, voice smug. “Parts of us just fit. I want to see how I fit inside you.”

As if overcome by a rush to do just that, he walks around me and pushes my back with both hands, steering me toward the shore. “Now. Let’s come out.”

I laugh and let him guide me. We stop, our feet still submerged, and he turns me lightly, his mouth crashing to mine. His need leaves no space for uncertainty, and I kiss him back with a happy sigh, my hands running up and down his ribcage.

“Do I just…?” he mutters under his breath, putting his arms firmly around me. His foot hooks around my ankle, tripping me up until I lose my balance. I laugh in surprise when he lowers me to the ground with a satisfied murmur.

“That works,” I say with another laugh when he kisses my throat, licking off drops of water.

“And now.” He pulls back, taking me in with wide, hungry eyes. “Now, I… I want to…”

I wait while he hovers his hands over my breasts, fingers twitching. He shakes his head once, sharply, and brings his hands to my hips. He stares at the triangle of hair between my legs, and I take a deep breath and part my thighs wide, letting him look.

“Oh.”

He almost chokes on his quick inhale, fingers pressing into my inner thighs to keep them open. As he blinks, long and languorous, I glance at his cock. He’s swollen hard, glistening with water and precum, and I know he likes the sight of me.

“I can be on top if you’d like,” I whisper, growing impatient when he makes no move to touch me.

But he shakes his head. “I have to… Just here.”

He comes to kneel between my spread legs, taking his cock in hand, his eyes still glued to my pussy. He strokes himself, exhaling in a rush. At last, his eyes jerk up to my face.

“I’m afraid it won’t last long if you take charge. It was too good. I need… Yes. Like this.”

His choppy sentences make me smile, and I let my legs fall wider apart, no shame left. He is utterly spellbound, his desire fanning my own higher. I expected to feel clumsy and ungraceful with him, simply because he is the pinnacle of male beauty and I’m only me, but it’s not the case.

“And now… And now…”

He lays on top of me, bracing on his forearms, and adjusts himself meticulously until his cock lies against my belly, his face over mine. I run my fingers over his curved back and look into his eyes, which are black now, no trace of silver left.

“You’re beautiful,” I murmur, stroking his hair. “I want you so much.”

He nods and reaches between our bodies. I tilt my hips to make it easier for him to guide himself inside me, and there’s a moment of fumbling, of muttered curses and impatient breaths, until his cock slips inside, and he grows rigid.

“Oh,” he gasps, eyes closed, hot forehead pressed to mine. “Oh. I see.”

He shivers on top of me, not even halfway in, and I stroke his back, humming comfortingly. I sense he needs a moment. Maybe the intensity is so much, he’s unable to deal with it. Seconds pass, then minutes, until his hips suddenly snap forward. He buries himself inside me with a loud gasp, and I moan at the stretch, the warmth, the glittering connection between us.

“I see,” he says again, his shaky breaths tickling my lips. “It’s perfect. I understand now.”

I can’t help but smile, wrapping my legs around him to keep him close. I welcome him in my body with an overflow of warm feelings, gratitude and awe, and a tender something that has me stroking his shivering back soothingly, because I’m desperate to make this as beautiful for him as it is for me.

“That’s good,” I murmur. “You feel amazing. I like having you here very much.”

He pulls back, dark eyes focusing on my face. “And I like being here.”

He moves, hesitantly at first. After a few strokes, his cock slips out, and he hisses in disappointment, pushing in with an impatient flex of his narrow hips. We breathe together, fast with exertion, and I lock my ankles at the small of his back and rock to the rhythm he sets. Chors huffs, his eyes closing for long stretches until they snap open, staring at me, his lips seeking mine before he loses himself in the pleasure again.

“How do I make you come?” he asks breathlessly when I moan, squeezing him tight, exhilaration flowing into the space we share.

“You can touch my clit, but not with sandy hands,” I say with a small laugh. “Or I can make myself come. It’s all right. You can focus on your pleasure if you want. I’m great down here.”

“Can you?” He slows down, the long, easy thrusts making me clench with need. “Do it yourself? Please. I want to know how it feels.”

I nod, reaching down. Woland always controlled my pleasure, and it takes me a moment to find the right place and rhythm, my fingers trapped between our bodies as Chors moves between my legs, his lips parted on a soft moan.

When I start rubbing, he stops his movements and pulls back to watch. His eyebrows crease with the familiar furrow, and I know he’s learning how to do it, so focused, even his own pleasure is forgotten for a moment.

“Different women like different kinds of touch,” I explain in a rush, my pleasure mounting. “I like… Like this. Oh, please. Fuck me.”

He grins, suddenly mischievous again, and buries himself inside me to the hilt. I moan, the combined sensations of fullness and friction doing me in. His thrusts grow faster, rushing recklessly toward an orgasm, and I come hard, powerful contractions drawing him closer, just where I want him.

He cries out and drives himself deep, hips twitching as he comes, pulsing and raw, our bodies and souls tangled in shared pleasure.

“Oh,” he says again, as if surprised by the new sensation. “Yes. I see.”

I giggle and pull myself up, kissing him where I reach, on his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. He smiles and captures my lips, and we share a long, breathless kiss while he’s still inside me, still hard, warm and so very welcome.

We lie together for a while, fingers exploring each other lazily, lips smiling. It’s quiet and comforting, and I love this so much, even as my belly hums with a new, dreadful urgency. It’s done. Although this wasn’t my goal, having sex with Chors cut me away from Woland in the most perfect way.

Now, I’m eager to take the final step. Weles won’t even have to do much to gain my allegiance. Just promise me a few things, and I’ll be his, giving him the victory that’s my only worth to most gods.

Yet, not Chors.

“Do you know why Woland keeps pursuing me?” I ask, sitting up. It feels like time for pleasure is over, and my insides tighten with dread and hope.

Finally. It will be all over.

He blinks at me in confusion, his eyes back to silver, skin dry. “Well, yes, but his reasons are many. Which one do you mean?”

I look away. “The prophecy.”

He hums, sprawling comfortably on his back. “I do. I haven’t told anyone. Most of them would be very cruel to you if they knew.”

The laugh that bursts out of me is glittery and choking, and my belly hurts from the violent shudders of mirth. Chors raises an eyebrow in question.

“I’m sorry,” I gasp out. “It’s just… Such an odd thing to say. Woland has been cruel to me from the start.”

He shakes his head indolently, looking up at the black ceiling of the cave that glistens with perspiration from the lake.

“You’d be broken if he were cruel. He’s capable of horrible things. No, I meant others, like Perun, of course, but Mokosz, too. Swarog, oh, that one would torture you for years. I hate him as much as Dadzbog. Woland is… conflicted. He wants to be good, he’s just… bad at it.”

I snort fondly, not believing a word he says. The things Woland did to me, beginning with Bogna’s murder, ending with his latest betrayal, are horribly cruel. That I’m not broken isn’t a testament to him being good but to how hard I’ve fought him.

It doesn’t matter, anyway.

“Do you stay in Nawie when you’re not watching from the sky?” I ask, wondering if I’ll keep meeting him. I want Chors to be in my life, in whatever capacity he’ll have me. He’s just so easy to be with. So honest, if a little confusing.

“Sometimes,” he says with a shrug. “We’re in Nawie now. I sleep here often. Just lie down on the water, and it holds me up until I wake up. It’s restful.”

“I want to keep seeing you,” I confess. “To talk, or maybe more. Whatever you’ll want. I won’t push you, I just want you to know that I’ll miss you terribly if we’re apart.”

He smiles, his eyes soft as they take me in. “I’ll miss you, too. And we’ll keep meeting. We have a lot of time to talk, don’t we? An eternity.”

I shrug and don’t correct him. He has an eternity, but I? I’ll be lucky if I live until eighty, but if my life persists to be as interesting as it was till now, I won’t see old age. Death doesn’t scare me any more, though. As long as I do the one thing that I was supposed to do from the start, and rescue my younger self.

Maybe it will happen tonight.

I shiver and get up, brushing sand from my skin. Chors watches me as I dress, finally raising himself to put on his trousers. When we’re both ready, I brush my fingers over his nape, bringing him down for one last kiss.

It’s gentle and chaste. When he pulls away, I smile. “Thank you for spending time with me.”

He nods and closes his eyes with a frown. “Oh, he’s not in Nawie any longer. Doesn’t matter. I know where he is.”

I frown, confused. Weles, not in Nawie? But he must be. Everyone says he can’t ever leave his domain, because Perun attacks him instantly. I open my mouth to ask about it when Chors puts his arms around me in a warm, gentle hug.

“I’ll take you to my father, but I won’t stay. It will just enrage him more, and I know you’ll be safe. He cares for you very much.”

“What?”

But my question gets lost in a sudden breeze of wind, the silver light of his magic bathing us. The sandy floor falls away, and I clutch Chors, my insides tight with fear.

Something isn’t right.

When we stop, and the light vanishes, he slips from my embrace. One moment, he is there, warm and real, and now, it’s like I’m hugging smoke. I lose my balance and fall to my hands and knees, the air around me thick with gasps and murmurs. It smells wrong.

Utterly too familiar.

When I open my eyes, the first thing I see is a pair of black hooves.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Woland asks, his voice low and threatening.

I look up. There he is, towering above me in his naked glory, eyes glittering with rage.

Chors betrayed me. He brought me right back to the rebel base. Back to my worst enemy.