Page 107 of Once Upon a Fable

My breath caught.

And I was wrong when I’d thought there wasmorebetween us. More was such a lackluster word. More was a pittance to the truth.

What twined around us...what turned our heartbeats into battle songs and bodies into mindless desperation was pure necromancy. Magic that had the power to restore the dead, convene with past lives, and somehow stitch forgotten souls back together again.

His stomach flexed as he slowly sat up, guiding my foot down his chest until my dirty toes pressed against his cock instead of his heart.

His teeth bit into his lower lip as he rocked his hips against my sole, rubbing his hardness against me, uncaring of the filth, turned on by my hate, knowing as well as I did that our connection made no sense.

We couldn’t explain why we embraced violence instead of understanding. Why sex was easier than words. Why a single stare shared agonizing secrets that our lips would never utter.

Sitting in the mud, his long legs spread in front of him, he followed the contours of my calf with his fingers, slipping up and up, tracing from my knee to the back of my thigh.

I shivered.

I showed a weakness.

With a soft groan, he slid higher, grabbing my ass before planting both hands on either side of my hips. His fingers bruised me. His tongue licked where his teeth had indented his bottom lip, and whatever messed-up power between us destroyed everything.

He paused for a second.

A single second when his black eyes turned liquid with passion and pain. A second when he had the power to make my entire womb clench for him.

And then, he yanked me forward.

He jerked me so hard, I fell against him.

My bound hands landed on the top of his head for balance. I struggled in his imprisonment. I fought him, but he just held me firm. He nuzzled into my belly, all while I pulled his hair. He nipped my skin as I reared back.

He grunted as his mouth found my core, and I screamed for the third time.

He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t shy.

His tongue licked me, then fucked me. Spearing so deep, he hit my clit with his teeth, and his nose buried into my flesh.

I couldn’t stand.

He held me up as I broke.

His arms shook as he held me right where he wanted, plundering my pussy, his head bobbing between my legs, his fingernails digging cruelly into my hips.

He ate me as if he’d been there before. As if he knew our height would match, my pussy would welcome, and that I would come for him even harder than before.

His tongue drove me toward an edge that appeared without warning.

It was sharp and jagged, dangerous and full of warning.

If I fell off it—if I let him push me over the edge—what would happen at the bottom? Would I ever be able to walk again? Would I ever trust myself or believe in my inner compass of right and wrong?

“Christ, you taste good.” His tongue dived deeper, possessing every dark part of me. His teeth nipped, and his noises of need and desire shoved me higher,higher. “You taste like earth and me and every other dirty, delicious thing.”

The fact that we were filthy.

That he’d come inside me and now licked me clean.

It was disgusting. It was mind-blowing. It obliterated every boundary that ought to be maintained.

“Come.” His tongue swiped over my clit. “You owe me another.”