Page 128 of She Who Devours the Stars

I didn’t bother to look down. I knew Fern’s eyes would be closed, lashes wet with sweat, her lips parted around the delicate edge of my clit. She’d been here for twenty minutes already. She could have come up for air, could have begged for mercy, could have let the hunger in her bones take over, but she didn’t. She just licked and licked, as if the only real goal was to see how much of me she could swallow before the sun ran out.

Every five minutes or so, I let myself come. Not out of desperation, but I’d turned resistance itself into a game. I’d ride her mouth, hands steady on her skull, and let the orgasm roll through me like a weather pattern, brief, bright, and totally at my command. Fern would moan every time, and the moanwould spark a second wave, tighter, higher, until I’d have to force her off with both hands, just to keep from melting into the mythglass tiles under our feet.

If this was what the scholars meant by “legendary restraint,” they could keep it.

Below, Alyx Vieron had started the morning with a handshake and a challenge: “I want to make Fern break.” I’d liked the confidence, even admired it, but now, twenty minutes later, Alyx’s competitive edge was slipping. She’d jammed two fingers into Fern and was eating her out with the kind of desperate, high-stamina rhythm that could have melted steel. Sweat beaded down the small of her back, and every time she came up for breath, she’d glare at me with something halfway between envy and awe.

It wasn’t working. Not for lack of technique, Alyx’s tongue was a force of nature, but Fern was unyielding. She bucked and twitched, sure, her hips shaking with every pass, but she never lost focus. She only cared about my pleasure, as if coming herself was just an afterthought, a party trick to be deployed when the moment called for it.

Alyx was losing her mind.

I loved it.

I rocked my hips, letting Fern’s nose press hard against my clit, then relaxed, grinding in a slow, circular motion that sent ripples down my thighs and into the muscles of my calves. She hummed, a low, shuddery note that vibrated through the length of my spine. I squeezed my breast, thumb and forefinger pinching the nipple until the pain lanced clean through the rising pleasure. It was perfect, and I wanted to make it last.

Alyx, meanwhile, was mounting a campaign of all-out war. She’d locked Fern’s legs wide with both hands, bracing the heelsagainst her shoulders, and was slurping Fern’s pussy so loud it drowned out the pool’s fake surf noise. She drove her fingers in, twisted, then curled them, hunting for the spot that would send Fern into a death spiral. Nothing. Fern’s hips bucked in time with the thrusts, but her mouth on me never even stuttered.

Alyx looked up, face slick, eyes wild. “She’s—she’s not—” She sounded genuinely betrayed.

“She’s busy,” I said, voice sharp and amused. “Maybe try harder.”

Alyx scowled, then doubled down, plunging in deeper and dragging her tongue in a figure-eight pattern that would have broken a lesser woman. Fern moaned, this time a little louder, and the vibration sent a hot flash straight through my pelvis. I clamped my thighs tighter, pulling Fern’s face in, grinding until the urge to come started to override every other protocol.

I was close. Fern could sense it, she always could. Her hands, previously resting idle at her sides, now dug into my ass, palms flat, thumbs pressing just above the curve of my tailbone. She sucked, long and slow, then flicked her tongue in a rhythm that made my vision go static. My mythic field, already unstable, began to crackle with pent-up discharge. Tiny arcs of blue-white light snaked down my arms, traced the outline of my abs, then grounded themselves in Fern’s hair. She didn’t even flinch.

Alyx, clearly aware she was being outclassed, went for broke. She popped her head up, grabbed Fern’s thigh with one hand, and pinched Fern’s clit with the other, rolling the nub between two fingers while her tongue flicked like she was trying to drive her insane through sheer pressure.

Fern’s body twitched, the first real loss of control all morning. Her moan hit my clit, and I arched my back, stars shattering behind my eyelids. I came, the orgasm detonating from myspine out, sending a pulse of mythic energy that made the air shimmer, the margarita pool’s surface go momentarily still, then snap back into motion. I gripped Fern’s hair tighter, riding her face until the aftershocks faded, then let myself collapse, knees buckling, ass landing hard on Fern’s chest.

She breathed, once, in a ragged rush, then laughed. Her face was streaked with my wet, lips shiny, eyes gone entirely mythic, pale blue shot through with sparks of pure white. She looked as happy as I’d ever seen her.

“Was that a record?” she asked, muffled by my thigh.

I patted her cheek. “Close,” I said. “But you can do better.”

Alyx let out a noise that was half groan, half whimper. “You two are not human. This is—” She caught herself, looked down at her own hands, then back at Fern. “This is—” She gave up, buried her face between Fern’s legs, and resumed licking with wild abandon.

I leaned back, bracing on my hands, letting Fern breathe while Alyx worked. For a minute, it was just sounds: the lap of the pool, the wet slap of tongue on clit, my pulse drumming in my ears. Fern lay flat, arms flopped to the sides, eyes closed again, the picture of relaxation. She wasn’t even trying to come.

That annoyed me.

I reached down, cupped her jaw, forced her to look up at me. “You’re holding out,” I accused, my tone more amused than cruel.

Fern grinned. “Maybe I’m just greedy,” she said, tongue flicking out to taste the last traces of me on her lips.

“You know what happens to greedy girls?” I asked.

She raised her eyebrows, hopeful. “They get fed?”

“They get used,” I said, then stood, knees shaky, and wiped my hand across my thigh. The mythic residue glittered on my palm, and I reached down to press it against Fern’s mouth. She licked it clean, gaze never leaving mine.

Alyx, still working below, seemed to take this as a cue for escalation. She spread Fern’s pussy wide, planted her tongue flat against the clit, and started a brutal, unbroken rhythm that left no space for mercy. Fern’s hips finally started to tremble, the beginnings of real collapse. I watched her face, saw the mask of control start to slip.

But it wasn’t enough.

I knelt beside Fern, one hand on her breast, rolling the nipple between my fingers until it stood hard and swollen. I leaned in, licked a stripe up her throat, then bit down, hard, just below the jawline. She gasped, the sound raw, and for the first time all day her mythic signature flared wild and uncontained.

She was close. Too close.