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His groan strikes the side of her face, the slick inner flesh of her cunt cinching around him. Fucking hell, she feels unreal, suctioning him to the knuckles. His upright digit joins the finial, both stretching her muscles, pumping fluidly.

She winces, the tip of his fingernail notching a sensitive place.

Malice contemplates bending his knuckle to keep from nicking her, but several motives stop him.

One, pain can be pleasurable. Two, she’ll learn how.

That is, if this goddess doesn’t already know from previous experience.

Three, fuck previous experience because if he thinks about anyone else having her, Malice will go on a murder rampage.

Last but not least, there’s this priority: Despite flinching, Wonder doesn’t let up. She’s enjoying herself, the pleasure-pain slackening her profile. After a few rhythmic hisses, her pussy acclimates to the talon, her muscles relaxing. Then she resumes the tempo, drawing on his finger like a tap.

Ah, the perks of being a deity instead of a fragile human. Mortals can’t handle this sort of erotic titillation. But a goddess fucking can.

Malice grits out an unintelligible noise.

As a masterful archer, he knows where to aim.

Like an arrow to a target, he exercises that finger with tenacity, striking a pliable spot that throws Wonder into a frenzy.

It hits the right place, flexing in and out, biting her flesh with expert focus. Just enough to hurt so damn good.

“Ah!” Wonder howls to the ceiling. “Oh, my Stars! Yes!”

“That’s it,” he hisses. “A safe word isn’t going to be enough to keep me away from you. I’m going to make you squeal so hard and come so tightly, my fingers will be imprinted in this soft cunt. No other deity will fill you the same way because the shape of me will always be there.”

Wonder chants, flinging her pussy backward into the finial, then forward into his finger. Each direction stimulates her, simultaneously penetrating and retreating.

Malice’s pulse hammers into her spine. He leans over her shoulder again, the better to see his digit funneling Wonder. Her pussy flushes as pink as a flower, blood swirling there, and the cinched skin of her clit elevates. Just watching her abandon restraint is enough to make him see stars.

But regardless of what this mutiny does to his pulsating cock, nothing compares to the helpless ecstasy wringing across Wonder’s face. For some reason, he gives less of a shit about himself. Moreover, he could do this for hours, edge and spoil her without needing the payback.

He wants to make her shout. He wants to make her cry. He wants her to like both.

He wants her overwrought, impure, and wanton. He wants to rip her sighs apart. He wants to drink from that pussy like fine wine. He wants to suck on that clit like a confection. He wants her mindless, conscious, at his disposal, under his thumb, and dominating him.

It’s all her. Just her.

But what the fuck? Where is this coming from?

One second, Malice is fantasizing about breaking her ass with his cock. Next, he’s hoping she’ll break him instead.

Wonder rushes her waist, the frantic motions threatening to dismantle his control.

She bounds her pussy on his finger and the finial, outright hopping on both fucking things.

As she goes wild, it’s all Malice can do not to wrench the curtain from her body and extend this pleasure to the rest of her.

But no, she’s his rival, his captive, his enemy. Right now, she’s also just a side piece. That’s all. This is nothing but fun and fuckery, a means to blow off the steam building between them.

Hell, Wonder will be the first to agree with this philosophy once they sink back to earth.

Until then, Malice snarls. He plays with her pussy, fucking his finger into her, then adding a second.

This eases her walls even farther apart, the infiltration pulling a firestorm of harsh moans from her soul.

Wonder leaps up and down, punting her ass, swatting her cunt. His thumb rolls her clit, his talons stroke, and his other hand sweeps the finial into her. Fuck, she’s pouring onto him, liquid seeping down her thighs.

Twisting his mouth into her jaw, Malice seethes. At one point, her cries narrow into a yelp. Eyelids hooded, he glances down to see a red bead mixing with her arousal.

Shit. So much for pacing the blood play.

Yet Wonder falls into him and thrusts her cunt faster. Again, there’s a reason their kind rule the universe, their bodies molded from The Stars, created to withstand all manner of spicy experimentation. Almighty Fates, he’s never been more grateful for immortality than at this moment.

A satisfied growl ripples across his tongue. The visual of her lunging body whetting his appetite, his palate eager to consume that bead.

Wonder weeps, her fingers scratching through his hair. Malice hisses in pleasure, her filed nails cutting into him, producing crimson for sure. That makes them even.

But oh, he’s going to fucking win this. Malice extricates the wet finial, hurling the slick object over his shoulder, the maneuver prompting a noise of frustration from Wonder.

She grunts in protest, then gasps as he replaces the instrument with a third finger.

Pinching each digit together, Malice pounds between her thighs, the talons lightly scuffing.

Wonder’s body shakes off its hinges, her lungs emptying. She rides his hand with all the enthusiasm of a rodeo, mounting his fist to the knuckles, drenching him to the wrist. Her yells bounce off the walls in tandem to his jutting arm, their movements quickening, deepening.

All the while, he thumbs her clit, rubbing it, dabbing it. The effects of his touch race across her pussy like heavy voltage, easy to detect since the same turbulence charges through his dick, from the sac to the head.

His free arm straps around her chest, tucking between her jostling tits, his palm encasing her throat like a collar. With his unhampered thumb, Malice tips her head farther back, savoring her downfall.

She’s always been a goddess who stops traffic. But right then, on the brink of coming all over his hand, Wonder is powerful, invincible, which makes her look sexier than she ever has.

Wildflower, indeed. An untamed force of nature. She goes feral on him, her cries reaching an octave that fills the hall. Her cunt buckles, foreshocks rippling around his fingers.

“Hmm,” Malice whispers in a gritty tone. “Your pussy feels like it wants to come. Would you like that?”

Wonder nods vehemently. “Yeah.”

“Say pretty please.”

“Fuck you.”

Depraved mirth skids from his lips. “Bad girl.”

Very bad girl. Although certain she’d outlast him at this point, Malice does appreciate a feisty partner with a side serving of defiance. Feeling generous, he rewards her by doubling his efforts. His fingers pace quicker, and quicker, and quicker.

Wonder’s mouth hangs ajar, the noises hardening, congesting in her throat. “Oh! Oh… fuck!”

She explodes like a star. Her pussy convulses, heat igniting from the slit, her slickness and blood soaking his pumping hand. She squeezes his knuckles, her cunt buckling around his upright fingers, clenching so hard Malice might lose circulation.

Hollers rip from Wonder’s mouth. She clasps his neck, cleaving into his skin, and her body quakes like a riptide. Malice groans in encouragement, his fingers driving, milking every droplet of her cum, every fragment of her vocal cords, every fucking shockwave.

Wonder tightens, her pussy clutching his fingers. She comes and comes and comes down his wrist. Then she collapses into Malice, her body heaving for air, her mouth unshackled.

Fates slay him. She’d given Malice a workout. He braces Wonder against his panting chest, his torso contracting with labored outtakes. His palm fits around her neck, pinning her limp form to his, their bodies shuddering.

Who knows how long this lasts? Malice can’t tell if it’s day or night anymore. He’d been finial-and-finger-fucking this goddess steadily for what seems like hours. Even if they weren’t deities, it’s definitely possible with this female, her cries fueling him with solar energy.

And fuck. Her body is still oozing on him. That makes up for the hell his cock is going through.

Wonder slumps, her eyes fluttering open. Malice won’t lie. Making her come is a religious experience. It would convert him from a sinner to a born-again believer if he were that easily swayed.

The goddess utters a small sigh. Like a nuisance, the sound brushes an uncharted place in his chest. Tamping down the reflex, Malice slides his fingers out of her pussy, the motion causing her to whine.

Arousal and crimson smear his hand. He’s seriously considering never washing his fingers again.

“Thirsty?” he whispers, lifting his digits to her lips.

The haze clears. Wonder emits a puff of air and takes up the gauntlet. She unfurls her tongue, the pink flat licking across his skin, lapping up her cum and blood in a single, confident stroke that grips his cock worse than a medieval torture device.

Malice lets out an undignified growl. Shit. As if she can’t get him any hotter.

After Wonder takes a few more swipes, her cheeks percolate with color. This is clearly a first for her. And now she knows what she tastes like.

And so does Malice. He polishes off the rest, bringing his fist to his mouth and flexing his tongue over the mess, the flavor of petals, salt, and musk flooding his senses. His head swims as if she’s just spiked the contents of his whiskey glass.

If he’d been prepared, Malice would have brought a cloth to wipe her clean. He’d have collected the rest and wedged it into his back pocket like a fashion statement.

Malice’s lips tip into a smirk. He runs a thumb over the pulse point at her neck. “Seems I’ve made you speechless.”

He might as well have pulled a blindfold from her eyes. The goddess tenses, her lashes flapping as though emerging from hypnosis. Malice had been congratulating himself, but now ambition brightens Wonder’s irises in a way he distrusts.

With composed motions that disprove she just came like a comet, Wonder plucks Malice’s hand from her throat. Then she straightens with the grace of a satiated queen.

His eyebrows slam together. As she wheels in his arms, her sober features come into stark relief. By contrast, the deceptive gleam in those green eyes hits him like a pail of water.

What the fuck—

And then she drops the curtain. And Malice’s brain shuts down.

Every swell, dip, and curve flashes into view. Full, heavy tits and pitted nipples. Pert cunt that’s just been given the royal treatment. Shoulders, hips, navel, thighs. Too many places to soak up and too little time.

Nudity is irrelevant to deities. But those deities aren’t her.

With three millennia’s worth of dignity under her belt, Wonder calmly bends—fucking bends her plush ass in his face—and picks up the robe he’d stolen. Then she rises like a phoenix from the carnal ashes.

“Speechless?” she recites while shrugging on the robe and knotting the sash.

The goddess says this as if Malice is just that cutely naive. Tapping his rigid chin, Wonder balances on her tiptoes and speaks millimeters from his mouth. “Foolish god. I think you’ve got that backwards.”

Then she walks the hell away, hips sashaying with more erotic flare than a pole dance. Fuck the walk of shame. Wonder does a victory strut. Unfazed, she leaves Malice there like an expendable one-night stand, as if to say, Thanks for that. See you around.

Score for the wildflower. Malice stands there, his fingers sticky, his ego obliterated, his addiction fully formed, and his mouth hanging open like a fucking amateur.