I clung to the ledge, grappling for purchase along the rocks as my body jolted with every one of his drives inside me. “Fucking Gods!” I whimpered, my body squeezed between him and the rock at the edge of the pool. He pressed me flush against it with his brutality, his hands at my hips tipping my ass back to let him get deeper.
Driving between my slightly spread thighs, he fucked me into the wall. One of his hands left my hip, raised to gather my hair in a fist and tip my head to the side and back, so that he could lean in and lick a path up the Mark on my neck and flaunt the bite mark he’d given me there.
“Do you see them watching you?” he asked, murmuring in my ear with a soft, mocking voice that tormented me. His cock stroked in and out of me, battering at my pussy with speed that seemed inhuman.
Uncontrolled. Wild.
I glanced around what little I could, forcing my attention to focus on the people loitering around the room. “Yes,” I whispered hoarsely, unable to force more sound from my throat. It felt scraped raw, as if I’d been screaming for hours and hadn’t even noticed.
“Tonight, when we’re in bed and I’ve got my cock between your legs again, they’ll be lying in their bed, jerking their cocks to the memory of me fucking you. They’ll be wishing they were able to make you scream the way I do, and do you know what I’ll do?” he asked, punctuating the words with a sharp drive against the end of me. “I’ll fill you with so much of my cum that they can smell it on you tomorrow and remember exactly who you belong to.”
I gasped as he shifted the hand that held me around my waist toward my clit, stroking the swollen flesh until I whimpered in his arms, “Gods.”
“If I’m a God, then you have to give me a gift. Those are the rules,” he said, teasing as he moved more slowly inside me. His strokes were still rough, battering hard enough he would likely bruise me, but he moved slowly, giving my body time to build toward a second orgasm that might make me forget my own name. “Do you know what I want?”
I couldn’t form the words to give him a response, couldn’t shift my focus off the heat building inside of me.
“I want you to come. I want you to clench that tight little pussy around my cock and milk the cum from my balls until it’s dripping down your thighs. That’s the only gift I want,” he said, pinching the sensitive skin of my clit and rolling it between his fingers.
I came, my body twitching in his arms as my throat clenched around a silent scream. Caelum groaned, shoving deep inside of me and letting my orgasm do its job, giving him the gift he’d asked for. Heat filled me as he followed me into bliss, his release coating my insides as he brushed a gentle kiss against my cheekbone.
I swallowed, trying to catch my breath. My eyes stayed closed, pushing away the reality of our audience that would make me undoubtedly regret what I’d allowed to happen, and then reveled in.
Caelum seemed to sense that I needed to retreat, as, in the wake of my orgasm, the eyes watching me were too much. “Come, my star,” Caelum murmured, pulling out of me and drawing away. I followed at his heels, keeping my eyes down as I strode up the steps from the bath.
People stared and a woman handed me a towel but kept her eyes averted from where Caelum’s cock hung down his thigh.
She nodded to me as she helped me wrap the cloth around my body. Caelum stared intently at the inside of my thighs and the mix of water and cum that dripped down my skin until it disappeared from view. He wrapped another towel around his waist, hiding himself from view.
“I’ll have a spare set of clothes brought to your room for each of you,” the woman said, smiling kindly. She was the same one who’d handed me soap when we came in covered in blood. “Go on then. Let the rest of us deal with the storm you’ve created,” she said with a smile, stepping away from me and walking toward one of the men in the room.
He caught her by the waist, bunching the fabric of her dress and tearing it off over her head.
We left, the first sounds of the woman’s moans coming from behind us, accompanied by male grunts of pleasure.
32
I backed off the bedroll. Sleep evaded me, driving me to shove my feet into my boots and wrap the spare blanket around my shoulders. The dress the woman from the baths had sent was more revealing than I was used to, designed for the humid temperatures within the caves. Thin straps hung off my shoulders, leaving my arms and a line of cleavage revealed.
It wouldn’t have bothered me under normal circumstances, but I still struggled to cope with the feeling of eyes on me while Caelum had pushed me up onto the ledge for everyone to see. I’d agreed to it, been turned on by it, but the shyness that came in the aftermath was very real.
I pulled back the curtain that gave our room a hint of privacy, but had done nothing to keep in the noises when Caelum woke me in the middle of the night, pressing his cock between my legs and murmuring in my ear.
I didn’t have much experience, but I wasn’t certain that his level of insatiability was normal. Combining that with his almost feral nature after his fight with the cave beast left me curious about the ways being marked by the Fae could change us.
Did we become more like them in ways other than just our strength? Our healing? The frenzy that drove him to spend every moment inside of me?
I walked through the tunnels, grabbing a torch from the commons and lighting it on my way to the library that consumed so much of my waking time. The books, even while they hurt my hand, had become a welcome respite.
Knowledge was power, and I wanted to have every opportunity to fight. I trained with Melian and the other fighters in the mornings, but Caelum was very rarely an active part of that. After he’d survived a cave beast, there could be no doubt that he’d pulled his punches where I was concerned, just as Melian had said.
It touched me and made me angry all at once, but he hadn’t hesitated to unleash his violence on me during sex. To claim me so fully I could still feel the ache of him inside me hours later.
I entered the library, setting my torch on the wall next to the table where I worked. The book I’d been translating the day before sat open where I’d left it when Caelum and I hurried out of the room after the altercation with Jensen.
I didn’t know what I wanted to research or where to even begin, but nausea churned in my gut, telling me there was something wrong. I moved to the shelves, running my fingers along the spines and waiting for one to jump out at me. It was how I’d chosen the first books I translated, randomly diving into them one at a time.
A less-weathered book called my attention, beckoning me to pull it off the shelf. I stared down at the name on the front, the words written in the New Tongue.
A Historical Account of the Creation of the Veil.