Page 26

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Anger

With a groan of surrender, his urgent mouth charges toward hers. One set of fingers rushes into Merry’s hair, clasping the side of her face while he seizes her lips. The other hand spans her ass, heaving Merry closer, her thighs astride his waist.

Their mouths clutch and rock into motion. Hectic noises collide and tear open the floodgates.

She whimpers for more, and fucking hell, he will give it all to her. Anger wrenches himself upright, his tongue prying apart the slit of her lips and driving into the damp warmth of her mouth. Because his tattoos have long since taught him what heat feels like, the sensation matches the one pooling between her thighs, thick and balmy.

So. Fucking. Wet.

He growls and licks through Merry, his tongue thrusting and plying, coaxing a moan from her. Grabbing his scalp, Merry burrows down on Anger, her hips jutting, her pussy stroking his aching cock. Their movements jolt the cable car, but who gives a shit?

Their heads slant at opposite angles, allowing their mouths to lock and undulate at a devouring pace. Anger nips her upper lip, relishing Merry’s shudder. And she flicks her tongue across his teeth, teasing out a hiss from his lungs. He discovers every fold and yield of her mouth, and she rides every swipe of his tongue.

Fuck him, but it’s intoxicating. Anger feels this damn kiss with his entire body, every bone and joint straining to liberate itself, to burst from his flesh. If his wings could fit in this cramped space, they would be flapping like mad.

His clothes chafe against Merry’s vivid blue dress, the cursed garments are too tight, too restrictive, clinging to the point of annoyance. He wants to shred the cotton, his fervor intensified by the arch of Merry’s nipples against his pectorals.

They pant into another, Merry’s snatching the edges of his shirt and lifting it from his torso. Anger peels his mouth away only long enough to enable her, the shirt a barrier neither of them will tolerate ever again. The instant she yanks it over his head, her eyes fixate on his torso, the dark olive skin bared only for her. On a sigh, she rakes her digits over the ridges of his shoulders, then along his abdomen, the stacked muscles hitching beneath her palms. Then finally, the flame tattoos, which Merry traces with admiration.

“You’re beautiful,” she muses.

You’re devastating, he thinks.

But everlasting fuck. The mere act of her fingers roving, sketching his flesh, claims the last vestiges of control. With a rasp, Anger multitasks. Stealing the shirt from her, he flings it from the cable car like rubbish and then hoists Merry’s chuckling lips back to his, eager to swallow her joy.

He escalates the kiss, hauling his mouth into hers, tipping her into him. Merry opens wider, moans skittering from the back of her throat, her limbs catching his waist, the better to skim her cunt over his cock.

Grunting under his breath, Anger slings one arm around Merry, securing her to him. With the other hand, he shoves beneath her skirt. Locating the trimmed waistband of her panties, Anger fists the material and links his gaze with hers.

Swiftly, Merry nods. That is all he fucking needs.

His arm yanks, the slender fabric tearing from around her body in one piece. Merry gasps, the noise thrilled. Her pink irises swirl with light as she watches him pocket the material, the gesture animating her features.

Alarms wail in the distance, echoing from somewhere in the city. But music overpowers the cacophony, and the air is thick and loud, and this is what it means to swelter.

He chases that heat. Dipping his head to Merry’s neck, he sucks the sweetened flesh until she squirms atop his lap, her fingernails scraping his spine. He follows these ministrations, the enthusiastic movements above him, losing himself in Merry’s response.

He treks open-mouthed kisses to the basin of her clavicles, enjoying the chain reaction across her skin. Then he descends from the heavens to earth, such a real place to be. His lips glide from Merry’s collarbones to the flesh between her tits, two tough nipples pebbling under the dress, the tips ripening for his tongue.

With a growl, he bypasses the temptation and grabs her hips, hefting her several inches off his aching cock.

At last, he finds the right words. “Grab the bars.”

Action. Direction. Command.

This, he knows how to voice. And Merry comprehends, noticing the smooth metal rods fixed into the car’s ceiling. She complies, hooking her fingers over the spokes and raising herself higher, enough for Anger to sink. Except the benches are in the fucking way, and he has no time for them.

Muttering an oath, he kneels before her, then twists and wrenches on the seat. The hinges beneath give way, ripping from the wall. They go flying from the vehicle next, Anger lobbing them into the void, the sound of metal crashing moments later.

With ample space now, Anger sinks to Merry’s navel. Afforded more room to stretch out, he lowers himself down, down, down, reclining across the floor, his head resting under the vent of Merry’s thighs.

Her legs rise around his face, limbs splayed, knees braced on the ground. For a mortal, this would hurt. But for Merry, her joints can take the pressure without consequence, otherwise Anger would have retained his shirt to cushion her knees.

Merry’s arms extend overhead, her fingers clamping around the bars. Her hair dangles around her face as she gazes down at him, rosy puddles swimming in her cheeks. Anger takes a moment, committing that expression to memory before drawing his eyes to where her skirt flutters around him.

The sight of her wet cunt drives the oxygen from his lungs. Glistening dark curls surround the slender line of Merry’s body, her folds soaked and a tiny bud of flesh sprouting from the peak.

Stars. Fuck.

Rapt, he traces every swollen part, every beautiful crease and clench of her waiting pussy. The air is even thicker between her thighs as his hand sifts through the patch of hair, sketching her lightly, teasing a whimper from her lips.

Merry grips the rods harder, her legs quivering as Anger spreads her walls apart, unveiling more of that taut clit to his famished gaze. Her skin is as flushed as the rest of her complexion. Yet the folds look even softer than her mouth, damper than her tongue, the promise of her taste causing Anger to bare his teeth. Hell almighty, he’s going to drain this goddess of every slick droplet and deplete her of every moan she possesses.

“You are more than a goddess.” Anger runs his palms over her hips, cups her ass in place, and locks eyes with Merry. “You’re a fucking titan.”

A supreme being among deities. A divinity who flames brighter than the constellations.

Merry. His brilliant star.

And so, he bends his head to worship her. The moment Anger’s ravenous tongue flicks against Merry, a stunned noise springs out of her. Fluid drips from her body, and her thighs split wider in offering.

Like this, she offers that sweet, tight cunt to him.

All reason drains from his cursed mind, replaced by a flux of blood to the broad head of his cock.

Flexing his tongue, he circles her entrance with slow, deliberate swabs. Merry’s mouth falls open, another cry breaking from her. More determined than he’s ever been with anything, he chases that noise, skimming her narrow slit, licking up her arousal.

Merry’s hips sway, meeting his tongue. Helpless sounds pour out while Anger works her, skating his tongue back and forth until her body quakes, plaintive moans filling the air.

That’s it, my brilliant shooting star. Shine for me.

Anger fastens her buttocks, tacking her to him, demanding unfettered access. His mouth grazes the opening inside her, swabbing at her flesh, lapping up the crease. Fuck, she tastes like starlight and syrup.

Like sex. Like passion.

It has never been like this before. He’s never formed a profound bond with anyone.

So he makes sure Merry knows this. Voracious, he glides to her clit and sketches its shape.

Merry cries out. Her body arches, and she undulates her waits, riding his face. With a groan, Anger rows his tongue, dabbing the tip until she’s inconsolable.

Humming, he sinks his tongue between her drenched flanks. In a sensuous pattern, he pitches in and out, drawing on her wetness, coaxing out every sob.

Merry bows backward. She clings to the bars, flings her hips, and rides his face.

Hissing his approval, Anger sweeps his tongue over her slit, then plunges back into her, matching her thrusts, fucking her with his mouth.

She saturates his tongue, then clenches when he returns to her clit. Finally, he straps his lips around the bud, drawing on the kernel and giving a firm tug. With every single feminine chant, a guttural noise rips from Anger, and he siphons on her even more. His mouth cinches and sucks, increasing the pressure around her stud, each of her cries knotting with tension.

This female, this woman, this goddess. She is everything, all wetness and wanting, with her body splayed around his head. She widens her stance, her body reeling above him, and he doesn’t know where they are anymore, and it doesn’t matter anymore, because nothing matters anymore. Nothing but this.

He wants Merry to shout, just like his heart is shouting. Anger hardly cares what has become of him. All he cares about is what’s happening to Merry, how violently she shakes as his tongue pivots back into her pussy, and how beautifully she’ll come.

The celestials flash, the eventide sky spins in a vortex, and the instruments playing around them crest. All the while, her walls flutter, her cunt trembling and lurching toward the suction of his mouth.

Anger pitches his tongue quicker, deeper. Her pussy drips on his palette, and he drinks in her pleasure, then returns to her perked clit. Sealing around the flesh, he sucks and sucks and fucking sucks.

Merry wails, bucking faster, lower onto his mouth. Then she freezes, the walls of her cunt rippling. And at last, she comes like a glorious goddess. Her legs stiffen, her clit throbs, and her body floods his tongue. Every muscle releases, her pussy convulsing, her euphoric screams amplifying across the arena.

Merry , he thinks.

“Anger!” she hollers.

Her rapture whets his appetite, fueling him with vitality. No honor, accolade, or privilege has ever felt as unprecedented as this. As her .

Because she is his. All fucking his. And now he knows what that feels like.