Page 39

Here’s the part where her knuckles would put a predictable dent in his face.

That is, if the memory of what he’s already done to this goddess weren’t making a repeat appearance in her expression.

That earlier blush sneaks from Wonder’s cheeks to her throat, descending to the pumped-up tops of her tits, dusting her skin a virginal tint of pink.

It’s the sort of color reserved for ballet shoes, an inaccurate hue for this goddess.

That flush needs to darken, to change into a deeper pigment, matching the decadent shade of her pussy.

Wonder’s body seizes, her cunt resting on the hood of his cock, thick air radiating from there.

This brings to mind a strange memory of heat, as if Malice can tell the difference between simmering and boiling temperatures.

Her pussy emits the same hints. Blood runs a quick course to that tight spot, the horny side of her morals saturating Wonder to the point where his pants dampen, and his lungs drown in the aromas of flowers and musk.

Even as her breath thins, Wonder’s tone remains steady. “You’re trying to scare me off.”

The way she says this is too earnest for his liking.

With one hand palming her ass, Malice steals a lock of chestnut hair and coils it around his free finger.

“You’re impossible to scare, Wildflower.

I don’t waste my time doing things I can’t accomplish.

” In one sinuous roll, he gyrates his waist, grinding his dick against the wet seam of her pants.

“I’d rather spend my evening making you come so hard around my tongue, you’ll see more stars than in this fucking immortal sky. ”

Wonder’s eyelids flutter, the irises turning a greener pigment than this garden. “Can you do that?”

Fuck. Him. Hard.

Hell yes, he can do that. She might as well have asked Malice to conquer the universe by her side. Those four words charge a scorching path to his nether region, everything from the glans to his testicles rising to the occasion. His frenulum and foreskin tingle, the shaft doubling in size.

Then again, he’s not interested in himself right now. Not with that question—which isn’t a question, but an invitation—dropping in Malice’s lap with as much enticement as her ass.

For once, Wonder doesn’t push away like some vicious kind of foreplay. She doesn’t hide it either, the anticipation pulling across her face, pupils brightening with arousal. Although Malice loves a battle of wills, especially with her, the state of his cock doesn’t mind how quickly this escalates.

Maybe she’s feeling impulsive. Maybe they’ve fought enough demons lately. Maybe she’s too tired to fight any more of them.

Not the least of all, including him.

He could dry-hump this goddess until she’s yelling and drenching his leather pants. But now that he’s touched, fingered, and pumped that sweet cunt, his parched tongue is feeling left out.

Wonder’s suckable nipples pit into his chest. Sharp pants cut from her mouth. He’d better work fast before she changes her mind and remembers who’s about to fuck up her world.

Malice moves like a serpent on the hunt. Shifting Wonder backward, he scoots her from his aching dick, disappointment crinkling her expression, as if he’s going to reject her. But he must look predatory, because her reaction melts a second later.

Wonder sinks into the nest of exposed roots, the foliage offering ample opportunities to get frisky. Keeping his eyes on the goddess, Malice cups the backs of her knees and gives a firm yank. She gasps, her back hitting the grass, her spine dropping flush with the earth.

Beneath the trench of roots, she reclines beneath him, all that dense hair pudding around her face. Fates almighty. He could dine on every inch of this goddess, but one place in particular stokes his appetite.

Leaning over her like a menace to society, Malice flattens one hand on a large root and coasts his mouth over hers. “I’m going to fuck you with my mouth. How does that sound?”

A whimper unfurls from Wonder’s throat. “Yes, please.”

“Please? So proper.” He skates a talon down the center of her breastbone, then clamps onto her waist and stamps her down.

“Trust me, your cunt won’t be feeling proper in about thirty seconds.

” Since she’s not wearing boots, that makes things easier.

Kneeling between her thighs, Malice skids his hands up Wonder’s waist and grabs the band of her pants.

“Now be a good goddess and lift those hips.”

She obeys, leveling herself enough for him to slither the pants down her legs and chuck them aside.

What greets him underneath is a delectable surprise.

Although goddesses don’t wear lingerie, a pair of embroidered panties hug Wonder’s skin like something out of deity-human role-play, a reward for his civil behavior.

A puddle has soaked the gusset, indicating where she’s open and dripping for him.

Canines aching, Malice utters a fiendish noise, strips off the leather jacket, and flings that aside as well. As Wonder’s eyes rove over his rippling torso, Malice has a sudden urge to show off like some raptor aiming to impress its mate.

Hovering, he slides his belt from the pants. The accessory slips from the loops, producing a hissing noise.

Swaying the belt’s tip back and forth along her jawline, Malice offers a generous half-second for Wonder to object. Yet permission only stares back. Maybe even a little impatience.

“Hands over your head,” he orders.

The dutiful goddess complies, extending her arms. Snaring Wonder’s wrists, he wraps the belt around her wrists and cinches the buckle.

Jerking it hard, he wrenches the goddess into place, the jolt expelling oxygen from her lips.

As for the logistics of each ankle, Malice ushers her feet through a sliver of space between two roots, bracing her down.

He sits back and appreciates his handiwork. She lies there, mouth ajar and panting. With each inhale, her tits inflate, nipples poking into the blouse, the hem fanning around her navel. His very own randy goddess, spread out like a feast for the senses.

With a smirk, Malice lowers himself to the ground.

Sinking to the vent of her shaky thighs, he edges his incisors across the inside flesh to her hip bone.

Clamping his teeth around the edge of her panties, Malice bites and gives a rough jerk of his head.

The material tears, slumping from her body.

Wonder whines, the wispy line of her pussy lifting into view.

A growl rumbles up his throat. Malice spits out the material and swats it away, his eyes raking over her spread lips, the muscles already contracting with need, the labia swollen and glistening.

Fuck, that’s the color he was aiming for, her skin darkening to a shameless pink, blooming like a forbidden wildflower.

“Mmm,” Malice hums, etching the tip of one talon around the oval. “So much for proper. You’re dripping like a celestial harlot.”

Because he says this like an endearment, Wonder makes a pained sound, watching him circle her pussy, then the radius of her distended clit. “Ah…”

“You like that?”

“No.”

That means yes. It means his touch is unhealthy for her. And it means she likes bad things, and bad gods, more than she wants to admit.

With her sheared legs secured to the tree and her arms restrained, Wonder bucks in his direction. The demanding gesture extends her cunt wider. And heaven curse him, that slit is pouring like spring water from a tap.

With a groan, Malice removes his saturated finger and spans her ass, fastening her in place. “Move this cunt an inch, and I’ll tongue you rough. Understand?”

Wonder grunts, refusing to nod. Oh, but she’ll pay for that.

On a gritty hum, he nuzzles her naked pussy, his breath coasting along her flesh. Then he flexes his tongue and drapes it up the slot, flapping those soaked petals apart in a single, unbroken lick.

Wonder snaps off the trunk. “Oh!” she cries out.

At the noise, Malice’s eyes roll to the back of his head. The liquid taste of her seeps into his palate like it did when he last made her come. Only this time, there’s no blood. Slow and deliberate, he drags his wet tongue, rowing back and forth from her gland to the edge of her clit.

Pacing himself, he teases Wonder with light streaks. Entrenched in the swale of her thighs, he feathers along her crease, skimming and tracing.

For a leisurely while, she holds her breath as if augmenting the sensation. But when Malice mops at the bottom rift of her clit, that long-awaited moan cracks loose.

Grinning like an asshole, Malice tongues her firmer, swiping into the furrow. Distressed pleas splinter from Wonder’s mouth. Her head arches, tits pointing high, legs splayed at his behest. She chokes the belt, squirming for more, swiveling her pussy against his mouth.

Malice snarls. Clearly, this goddess never follows rules except her own. That makes two of them.

More turned on than he’s ever been in two-thousand hellish years, he pushes harder.

Lapping across the rims of her slot, Malice feeds on the fluid gushing from her, the point of his tongue sketching every contour.

Fucking hell, she tastes as good as she looks and sounds; his most graphic fantasies about this minx have nothing on the reality.

Wonder sobs aloud, the octave increasing. Jutting her hips, she shoves her flanks into his face, her lower half bared to him.

His for the taking. His to fondle, grope, suck, and consume.

Mine.

His choice obsession. His most potent drug. His favorite violation. His toughest critic.

All. Fucking. His.