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“Marks of honor,” he tells me. “You made me bleed, Queen. Now it’s your turn.”
My eyes widen as he leans down, digging his teeth into my breast. The pain is so great I almost black out, and when he pulls back, my blood smears his lips and my breast drips with it.
Grinning a crimson smile, he hammers into my ass as he lowers his head once more and bites my other one.
My nails dig into Diamond’s skin, cutting him as I scream and writhe, pleasure and pain filling me until it explodes out of me. Cards fly through the room as I come so hard I pass out.
When I come to, Heart is groaning, his cock buried in my ass as he spills his cum, his tongue lapping at the blood across my skin until Diamond kicks him away.
“My turn,” Diamond declares.
I’m weak, my body limp as I’m turned once more and forced to my knees. I almost collapse, feeling cum and blood drip down me as I look down at him. He grins up at me.
“There she is: my queen. Now ride your king. I want to watch you claim me.”
“Diamond,” I warn on a pant, my pussy and ass aching, but he gives me no reprieve. He lifts and drops me onto his waiting cock. With his hands on my hips, he forces me to ride him. My hands fall backwards, gripping his thighs behind me to keep myself up.
He moves me faster, forcing me to ride his cock, and my exhaustion is replaced by desire—desire to see my perfect ringmaster fall apart for me. Moaning, I wind my hips, looking down at Diamond spread out below me. He groans, letting me know he likes it, so I speed up, bouncing on his cock as his eyes drop to my cunt.
His gaze is dark and hungry, his hands sliding over my skin as my power grows. I worry for a moment that I’ll hurt him with it, and Diamond reads that.
“Take my flesh. Carve it off with your cards. It’s yours, Queen. The cirque has my soul, but you have my heart and body. I am yours until the end,” he vows.
That promise releases something inside me, and I give into the power. I ride him harder, faster, taking what I want as my cards cut into him, making him bleed for me. All the while, he urges me on, demanding more.
The power I have over him, over them all, drives me wild as the others surround me. Hands and mouths slide across my skin as I fly higher and higher, soaring toward the abyss of pleasure only they give me.
They work as one to give me what I want, but as I fall into their waiting arms again, it’s my ringmaster’s gaze I hold. I scream his name, and with his own bellow, he follows me into the waiting darkness, filling me up with his pleasure and love.
Shaking, I roll my hips through the aftershocks as they collapse into my bed, Diamond’s softening cock still inside me. Their teeth and hands mark every inch of my skin, and satisfaction pours through me.
It’s then I feel the call.
The cirque reaches for us, calling to us.
Lifting my head, I peer out of the tent flaps to the darkness beyond, tasting the menace in the air as I turn my gaze to my collapsed men. “I hope you still have some energy left. We have a call. It’s time to go.”
Their groans make me laugh.
The call doesn’t take us too far from Cirque Obscurum, only to the outskirts of town and an abandoned power station where kids have been having parties, which is obvious considering the bottles and trash scattered about. I wander through it, my mask in place and my men behind me. Our souls thrum as one as we answer the call, following it through the darkness and into the building where a young girl is curled into herself, the joker card clutched in her hands.
Her eyes widen when she sees us, and she scrambles backwards, gripping her torn dress to her body. I hold my hand up, and my men step back. I read the truth in her eyes without her needing to say anything, and fury fills me.
Pain recognizes pain. My ghosts match hers, and an understanding passes between us as I kneel before her. She swallows, her tongue darting out to prod her split, bleeding lip. Blood coats her thighs as she tries to unsuccessfully cover herself, and I take off my leather duster and hand it over. Wordlessly, she wraps it around herself, glancing from me to my men.
“Who are you?”
“Your answer to the call,” I admit.
She glances down at the card she still holds, her eyes flaring wide with shock. “I heard the rumors, the tales . . . I didn’t know if it was true. I hoped . . .” She looks at me as if to assure herself I’m real.
I offer no comfort or words. They won’t help.
She doesn’t need me to hold her as she cries.
That isn’t why she called us.
She needs the monsters.
