The Wolf Queen (The Queen's Slave, Book 2)

Forty Three: Submission

"Infantem, obsecro." She plead, lightly running her nails along my thigh. At the sound of her rough accent, so thick with lust and passion that I could hardly make out her words, I lost my resolve.

"Take me." I broke, my voice cracking, my legs shaking with nerves. Kore was still very much an anomaly to me, and while I didn't think she would ever hurt me, she was still a deity, a goddess.

The goddess.

And that was intimidating.

To my immense surprise and confusion, she dropped my legs with a shudder and climbed up my body, her mouth finding mine. The kiss was scorching, her thighs parting mine as her tongue swept in. Just when I feared I would burst from the pent up sexual energy swirling inside me, her fingers slid into me. Strangled sounds left my mouth at the pleasure-pain of it. She moved slow at first, and in her mind I saw she was afraid she would accidentally hurt me, because the strength of a goddess was different from a vampires, entirely. But I ached for her and my desire was a living breathing monster, my body pushing the limits and meeting her thrust for thrust as her pace picked up. Before long I no longer knew where I began and she ended, having sank so deep within her mind that she was all I could taste and feel.

My nails raked bloody pathways down her back but I didn't care. I chased my rapidly approaching climax almost feverishly, and when her mouth replaced her fingers, the rough texture of her tongue sliding across my throbbing clit was all I needed. And when she turned her attention to my inner thigh, her incisors lengthening, striking deep, I couldn't contain the muffled scream that spilled out of me.

The orgasm rocked through my body with a power unlike any I'd felt before, never had I experienced such a violent display of pleasure. My legs were reduced to jelly and I could hardly breathe, looking at her through half lidded eyes, lazily admiring the curve of her breasts and smooth skin. I was so out of it that I didn't hear her say my name until she was snapping her fingers in my face, a flash of worry crossing her black eyes.

I blinked slowly and looked at her, raising a questioning brow.

"Azalea." She brushed my cheek lovingly, apologetically. "Forgive me, I did not mean to be so rough with you. I should've warned you that love-making with a deity is a little....unusual."

Too tired to speak aloud, I sent her my thoughts.

"Persephone, you did not hurt me. The opposite in fact. If I cared a fraction more, I might be mildly worried that I have lost the ability to walk."

She laughed then, and the sound was so heartbreakingly lovely that I swooned and found myself imagining her undone, writhing in pleasure beneath me. Her expression darkened as she heard my thoughts, her nostrils flaring. Sunlight streamed across her milky skin, her hair so dark a black it tinged blue. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my fingers in their silky strands and drag her closer.

"Careful love," she warned, baring her still-bloody fangs. "I am not always so gentle."

"Neither am I." I grinned, more than ready to rise to the challenge.

The air felt charged with static and for a long moment we just watched one another, so caught up in our bond we couldn't see straight. Her expression grew hungry, but not for blood. No, this was hunger for me, for my body, but there was also something there that I suspected she didn't want me to see, something that even the goddess herself was afraid of.