Page 15 of Gemini Hunted (Dark Witch Academy #5)

Zephyr

By the moon.

There’s certainly something in the air tonight.

I’ve been hard as granite since the moment I entered this sex-drenched room. I’ve been straining for control since well before this sweet Mercury boy stripped me naked and my luscious bride pressed her soft breasts against my back.

By now, I’m a smoking volcano of sexual need.

The silken slide of my horrible rival’s fingers up my thighs is nearly sufficient, all on its own, to make me erupt.

Vasili Romanov.

With every caress, his lacquered nails—black as pitch—spark tectonic shocks of alarm and arousal down the backs of my thighs.

Against the terrain of my skin, the dark gleam of a square ruby graces his middle finger like a fuck you.

From his opposing hand, a silver skull leers at me, with icy diamond chips for eyes.

An accursed object, that ring, or I am no Unseelie.

Suffice it to say, this deadly creature’s proximity to my exposed and furiously erect manhood is threatening enough to spill goosebumps down my spine.

Zara’s soft but lethal hand glides down the quivering jut of my hip bone to close over his. Abruptly, the leering skull on his knuckle is hidden.

My bride is warning him—this most complicated and dangerous of all her mates.

She is warning him to behave.

But she is also… coaxing him.

“Be nice to him for me, Goblin King,” she whispers to him, this dreadful alpha she inexplicably adores. Her petal-soft lips graze my shoulder. “And I’ll be nice to you.”

“My, my, little queen. Is that absolution you’re offering?” Cobra-quick, the warlock’s gilded head rears up. His wicked eyes, glittering like frost in the moonlight, flick toward me. “For my… many sins ?”

Dryly, I wonder what the latest of those might be.

I’m no Catholic, which is how my bride was raised (to the extent anyone gave a damn) by her Irish mob boss father. Obviously, I’m not even Christian. But I’ve read their quaint lore.

Christian superstition, it transpires, can be quite useful for banishing demons.

Hearing Vasili seek absolution for his mysterious sins, Zara’s breath hitches. My bride nestles her lush breasts into my back, nipples ripe as grapes teasing my skin. Her hot cunt, barely covered by a scrap of lace, tucks against my buttocks.

“Yeah,” she says huskily. “I forgive you. But if this is your Act of Contrition, you snake, then you better make it good for Zephyr. I mean it.”

“Oh, well, in that case.” Vasili’s cruel mouth curls from a pout to an evil grin that simultaneously hardens my cock and makes my blood run cold. “ Deus meus, ex toto corde poenitet me…”

He’s still whispering the words of a Catholic prayer like an incantation when his gilded head dips.

Delicate as a butterfly alighting on a blade of grass, his lips graze the sensitive sac of my balls.

My testicles tighten and clench. Molten heat races down my thighs and swells my shaft, punctuated by a ragged gasp.

Fuck the moon. That desperate, needy, starved sound was mine .

My tormentor pauses his prayers long enough to spare me a coy upward look. Through his slip of a smile, one razor-sharp fang peeks out.

What is it with this yacht tonight? The air in this intimate, dim-lit boudoir veritably pulses with sex.

The snake is my rival. One I never dare trust. At the moment, I hardly care.

I burn to touch him.

Still, I must be wary.

I don’t have Ash here to guard my back. My reliable consort, who should surely be appearing to welcome me home any moment, is oddly absent.

That sweet Mercury boy, who’s rushed off with my dripping armor like a helpful house elf and is now rushing back—flushed and earnest, so worried yet so excited for everything he believes may shortly occur—is not the ally I’ll need if I trigger one of Romanov’s killing rages.

Instead, I clench my fists at my sides. “Vasili.”

Romanov smirks at my response, then leans in to lick my quivering bollocks like a cat licks cream.

Speaking of which…

My gaze darts toward the fur-lined riding cloak I’ve left wadded on the chair, the protective garment no dragonrider ever ascends into the frigid skies without. For moon’s sake, I’ve nearly forgotten—

“Are you paying attention, Your Radiance?” Vasili’s silken lips drop a tiny kiss among the wiry green curls at the base of my cock.

It’s the first kiss he’s ever given me… there.

Every drop of blood in my body rushes straight to my shaft. Every thought in my head dissolves into smoke. My rival licks a slow hot stripe up the underside of my straining cock like a streak of lava.

Goddess save me.

The moment he reaches my tip and starts suckling, I’ll empty my load in this vile creature’s mouth.

Barely in time, my hands shoot out and lock around Romanov’s head. My fingers lace through his tousled shag of hair. His pale eyes, glittering with arousal and malice in equal measure, veer to mine.

“Vasili,” I groan, fingers grazing the rims of his ears, even though he’s no Fae and they’re not pointed. If I don’t establish the pecking order between us tonight, this warlock will challenge and threaten me forever. “You heard our queen. Be good for me, beautiful one.”

That is Ash’s name for him. Beautiful. I have already seen how well the snake likes it. The surest way to this one’s narcissistic heart is by pampering his vanity.

He rewards me for it now with a sultry wink.

“Ideo firmiter propono,” he whispers, a hot lick of breath against the swollen and twitching head of my cock, “adiuvante gratia Tua—”

Unless I’m greatly mistaken, this dreadful warlock is uttering the Roman Catholic Act of Contrition.

In Latin.

He is playing with me.

The narrow band of my eyepatch cuts into my perspiring brow. I long to tear the thing off, but I don’t care to expose my deformity before this exquisite and vicious man. Instead, I narrow my eye at the top of his head and tighten my fingers in his hair.

“Be warned, fellow monarch,” I rasp. “I do not intend to become one more of your casual conquests.”

“Hmmmm. You don’t say?” He pauses to circle the engorged head of my cock with his tongue and taste my weeping slit, while I close my eyes and pray for fortitude. “What precisely do you mean?”

“I mean,” I groan through gritted teeth, “that I see you. I see you—wielding your charms like a witch and your body like a Siren to lure men to their doom. I’ve watched you do it with the dragon. Maxim. He’s a cunning and vicious killer, but he’s mindless clay in your hands—”

He acknowledges the truth of my words (because, after all, I cannot lie) with a self-satisfied smirk. Simultaneously, he cups and fondles my swollen balls in a wicked hand. I break off on a ragged groan.

Eruption is imminent.

Neo gasps and falls to his own knees to watch. At some point, the bookworm has quietly shed his own remaining garments—anticipating my needs without waiting for my command—like the good compliant boy he is.

Ah, Neo.

He is my bride’s fated mate, and Ash’s lover.

The first of her mates to welcome Ash and me into the harem.

The sight of his buff body kneeling at my feet (precisely where I’ve burned to order him), with his bitable buttocks resting on his heels and his big hands spread over those bulging quads, innocent eyes wide and soft lips parted…

The sight of Neo Theodophilus Mercury kneeling at my feet nearly finishes the job and unmans me on the spot.

The other one—Vasili—is still fondling my balls and blowing on my wet cock. By sheer force of will, I grit my teeth and finish what I intend to say to that one.

“Vasili Nikolayevich Romanov. Every warlock in this harem dances to your tune like rats trailing the moon-fucked Piper. Without Zara to stay your malice, they’d happily follow you to their doom.

But I am the Unseelie King. Dip into your cauldron of tricks to manipulate me, and you will find me… unreceptive.”

The perverse creature doesn’t even bother with a denial.

Instead, he hums and encases my quivering cockhead in the wet silk of his mouth.

Blind with pleasure, my eye nearly rolls back in my head.

“Uh-oh. Looks like he sees you, Goblin King.” Zara’s hot little body undulates against my back. Her fingers dance over mine, then smooth the hair from his face so we can all watch him suck.

Inch by inch, Romanov swallows me down, sharp eyes lifted to mine to observe his effect. Zara moans softly and nuzzles my ear. I clench my jaw and tremble with the urge to seat myself balls deep in his alluring suck.

“An Unseelie,” I pant, “perceives… what mere mortals… cannot.”

Ronin’s husky chuckle rises from the bed. “Best be careful with that Dark Fae, love. Looks like he’s got your number, dead to rights.”

Since the moment I returned to this sex-drunk ship, I’ve been intensely aware of Ronin.

The way I’m always intensely aware of him—my lost love, my first love, the savage mortal boy I loved to despair, now grown to a man most formidable—crouching on the edge of the senator’s obscenely large bed to savor my undoing.

While I clutch Vasili’s head and rock into his divine mouth, my gaze slews toward Ronin.

Black hair swirling in a cloud of ink around him, he falls forward on hands and knees to accommodate the wolf—Lucius Aries—who looms behind, lubing his own thick girth and the ruddy knot swelling at the base of his shaft.

Vasili hums around my cock in a way that’s so intensely pleasurable he makes my vision blur. He backs off a little, then sucks me in deeper, his skilled tongue lapping the tender underside of my cock. His finger steals behind my balls to tickle the vulnerable nerve-packed span of my perineum.

My rear passage—which is certainly off limits to this creature, just as his hole is off limits to me—flutters and clenches in protective instinct.

“You’re being so nice to him, Goblin King,” Zara whispers. Her small hand glides down my abdomen and wraps around the base of my cock. Her fingers stroke and knead me in a building rhythm.