Bride of War (18+)

12

"You never said you had a son," I stand on the edge of his bedroom.

He glanced up at me from his bed. His cape and fur thrown over a chair, his chest bare. He raises a brow.

"I don't. Dion was an apprentice."

I linger at the door frame. He sits up with a sigh, waving me further into the room.

"I've told you not to touch this door," he gruffed. "Do you ever listen to me?"

I shrug. "I don't know. You let me keep pushing. So I do. So about him...what's his name?"

"You were eavesdropping. You know his name." He pushed his hair back.

His muscles are so...large. There's a small scar on his left cheek, he shifted, his pecs flexing as he did. My eyes are drawn to it. The way his muscles tick, and move...is so beautiful.

So—

He snaps in front of me, his form towering over mine. I've always been an average girl not very tall, not very short. He's...giant. He dwarfs me.

When he lifts his hands his fingertips brush the ceiling effortlessly.

He's looking at me. Those red eyes.

"Where did you go?" He whispered, brushing my hair behind my ear. He leans down, brushing his lips against my cheek.

"Sorry I was just..." I glance away. "Anyway, Dion."

"Enough of him. He's gone home now. And you shouldn't be snooping about." He turned around, musing his hair with a sigh. "I've told you haven't I?"

His armor hangs up in a nook, his sword alongside it. There's a line of weapons, different swords. Blades. He looks at them. His brow creased as if something were amiss.

I lick my lips. "About what you offered me?"

He doesn't look back at me. "Hm?"

I reach out, touching his back. His muscles flex under my fingertips. He visibly tenses, his hand on a blade.

"I want to take your offer," I whispered, stepping closer, resting my face on his back. I can't hear a heartbeat.

Is he alive? It doesn't matter. He treats me better than even my own parents.

"Will you have me?" I ask. My stomach rolls with anticipation. He won't look at me. Maybe this was a mistake maybe—

He turns around, putting his arms around me. "You are mine." He hefts me over his shoulder, throwing me into the bed.

"You are already my wife. The only thing left," he whispered, looking down at me, from the edge of the bed.

He grabs my ankle, pulling me down the edge of the bed, my legs around his waist. "In order to give you my powers. For the universe to acknowledge you...is to consummate the devotion ceremony."

The sheets against my back are soft, a satin. His eyes burn down at me, his gaze taking down my body like hot coals against my skin.

"Will you treat me well, Slade? Promise me?"

Slade leans down, kissing my cheek. "Of course, I will, love."

He pressed against me, his hands drifting down from my face to my torso. I close my eyes, feeling his callused hands as he caresses my skin.

My breathing hitches as he drips my dress open, his hands cupping my breasts.

I shift, his fingers spreading letting my nipples peek through his fingers hardening at the air and his cool touch.

He kisses my neck, sucking on the thin flesh of my throat. The sensation of his hands, his lips, his teeth, and his hardness pressing into me enveloping my brain in a fog.

"You can't ever leave me," I manage to whisper.

He lifts his head. "Not for eternity," he promises, his fingers circling my wetness. I shift shuddering.

"Will you be gentle?"

He looks up at me. "I will try. But I can't promise I'll succeed."

I close my eyes, as his finger stretches me, large and intrusive. Just his finger fills me in such an all-encompassing manner.

I hold his wrists, as he slowly gets me used to his fingers. The slight burn of him stretching me dissipates, leaving me with a warm ness flooding my lower belly, tightening, clenching around him.

My pussy pulses around him, aching for him to touch me deeper.

"Ah...even as a human," he murmured, withdrawing his fingers, a larger more intrusive length pushing at my entrance. "You are a goddess, Monika."

I inhale sharply, my eyes flying open.

He covers them, pushing into me, my back arch, a scream being ripped from my throat, as he stretched me impossibly, his hand rests on my belly, the bulge of his length pushing at my skin.

"It's done," he murmurs, pulling me up, into his arms, my body exhausted but slowly letting go of the pain, embracing the pleasure.

"You're mine."