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He moves so fast I don’t have time to anticipate him, backing me up against the rear wall of the barn and caging me in with his hands on either side of my shoulders. He drops his head, tracing the tip of his nose across the edge of my jaw, inhaling slowly.
His voice is a low warning in my ear when he says, “I am not a man. I’m a god. Maybe I should remind you of the difference.”
His words, the tone of the them, the threat and the promise, have desire sparking low in my belly and spreading, the embers catching until I’m on fire from it. I hate what he does to me and how easily he seems to do it. And still I can’t stop myself from threading my fingers through his hair and bringing his mouth to mine.
His kiss is crushing, demanding, possessive, and it only fans the flames. When his fingers reach for the tie on my breeches, I don’t stop him. Instead I encourage him by rocking my hips, gasping when he loosens them enough to slide his hand inside and graze a finger against my clit.
“See,” he says, a note of triumph in his voice, “you’re already wet for me.”
“Shut up and do something about it.”
He sinks a finger inside me without hesitating, grinning against my mouth when I buck my hips, forcing him deeper. When he adds a second finger, working my breeches down my thighs with his other hand, I groan low in my throat.
He pumps them in and out, his teeth exploring the skin of my neck until I’m buzzing with the feeling of his body against mine, moving with me, in me, against me. Shoving his fingers deep, he curls them up against the sensitive spot inside me that makes my knees go weak.
I tighten my hands in his hair, fingernails digging into his scalp, which only seems to encourage him. His fingers move faster, his teeth scraping against sensitive skin.
He presses his thumb to my clit, and I couldn’t stop it if I wanted to, the blinding, white-hot orgasm racing through me until every nerve ending tingles and sparks. But he doesn’t relent. He merely shifts against me, the hard length of his cock pressed against my hip as he plunges his fingers in and out, forcing me back up before I even have the chance to come down from the high.
Wanting to torture him just as much, I reach for him, massaging his cock through the leather. He jerks against me with a groan, his fingers moving faster and more urgently inside me. I fumble to undo the ties with shaky fingers, finally freeing his cock and wrapping my hand around it.
He throbs in my grip, thrusting into my fist when I give him a rough stroke. I want him inside me. I need it. And he must read my mind because he slips his fingers from my pussy and spins me to face the wall, shoving me up against it and gripping my ass to spread me apart for him.
I feel the head of his cock at my entrance seconds before he sheaths himself inside me. Arching my back to take him deeper, I drop my forehead against the wall with a groan.
He fucks me, and he’s not gentle about it, driving into me with long, deep strokes. But I don’t want gentle from him. I need the hard, fast, rough way he uses my body to remind me I’m using him too. I don’t want a lover’s caress from Thieran. This frantic, needy fucking is bad enough as it is.
He slams into me with a particularly brutal thrust, his hand snaking around my hip and dropping between my thighs to rub my clit in fast, vicious circles. Everything about the way he touches me is pain translated into pleasure, and I’ve never needed anything this much.
Holding my hip in his punishing grip, his pace never slowing inside me, Thieran leans forward to whisper in my ear, his voice hoarse.
“You’re going to come for me, little one. I want you to scream my name so this entire realm knows who’s fucking you.”
I don’t want to obey him, but my pussy ripples around him in response, and I can feel my orgasm building and racing down my spine.
“Now.”
The command is low, urgent, but I’m powerless against it, against him, and his name is on my lips as I explode around him, body shuddering with the force of my release.
“Good girl,” he whispers against my neck as he shoves deep and empties himself inside me.
It takes me a minute to stop seeing stars and a few minutes more to get my breath back, my hands braced on the wall as he steps away and rights himself. He reaches forward to squeeze my bare thigh before tugging my breeches back into place and palming my ass.
“Next time, you’ll have to scream louder.”
“Who says there’ll be a next time?”
He chuckles, pressing against me from behind and winding my braid around his hand before giving it a firm tug. “With you, little one, there will always be a next time.”
His hold on me loosens and he disappears, leaving me to slump against the wall of the barn and try to piece together what the fuck I just let happen. What I encouraged. Again.
Meera sticks her head out of the stall and pins me with a disapproving stare.
“Don’t look at me like that.” I sniff, hooking her saddle over my arm and moving to the mouth of her stall on shaky legs. “Maybe my plan is to get him to think I actually want him so he’ll let his guard down.”
She snorts in disbelief. As I settle the saddle on her back and quickly adjust the straps, I know we both see it for the lie it is. If there’s nothing I can do about wanting the God of Death, I’ll have to outrun him instead.
Chapter Twenty-Four
