Forbidden Fables, page 22
“Oh, please…”
Notching the cleft of my cunt against hers, our legs crisscross over each other’s, and she gasps at the contact of our lips. Bending slightly at her waist, she reaches over, grabs my thigh, and pulls me closer to her as she grinds hers against mine.
She is soft and warm and so wet. Her nether lips spread easily between mine, and my mouth hangs agape as I watch her throw her head back in pleasure, her hips grinding against my core.
She is slow and determined with her movements, savoring the look on my face as we lay there together, cleft to cleft. I begin to undulate my hips up against her, her legs spread wide on either side of mine. Her eyes watching me from above. I hold the contact, but the warmth that spreads through my hips won’t allow me to stay still. I wind my hips, gyrating against her wet warmth, the perfect amount of contact against my pulsing nub, but I want more.
She stiffens her legs so I can get better leverage as I hold her thigh, and the slickness between us increases with each slow jerk of her hips.
“Please…” I pant, “don’t tease me…ride me.”
Letting go of my leg, she reaches between us and inserts two fingers, her thumb gliding over my throbbing bud with ease.
“Oh! That feels so good…yes…there…there!”
And she gives and gives until I can’t take anymore.
I watch her finger fuck me, and she is rubbing herself now as well, eyes closed.
When she opens them again, she looks wild; her thick hair mussed up around the crown of her head. If I didn’t know any better, I will have thought she is a woman possessed. Only, right now, I didn’t care. All I can think about is our shared climax.
Freyja falls on her back, legs spread wide. She is angled towards the fire, and I can see every line, every fleshy curve of her cunt..
“Eat.” She commands, and her slanted eyes don’t leave my face until I crawl between her legs, spreading her lips with my fingers. I make a circle around her erect nub with the tip of my finger, mystified, and my mouth grows wet at the fantasies I’ve entertained underneath my covers at night.
I use my tongue, first at the crack of her ass, and wiggle my tongue through her fragile creases, my mind swimming within something that can only be called euphoria.
Her smell is intoxicating, like fine wine, and I want to rub her all over my face, let her juices cover me, let her baptize me with her pleasure.
“Slowly, pet…gently…”
I hum against her cunt, making the sounds of satisfaction after a delicious meal. I do as she says and slow my laps and licks, flicking her nub until she cries out. I pull back, wanting to savor this moment forever, and I watch her entrance throb, knowing immediately what she needs.
I line two fingers up to the pulsing center, face up, and push, “Like this?” I whisper.
Her stomach muscles clench in response, and she nods three times before letting her head fall back again.
I am inside of her now, encapsulated by her pleasure, sheathed inside of her wet heat. I pump slowly at first, but the look on her face urges me on, and I start to move faster, watching her face contort as I go deeper.
“You’re a dirty girl, fucking my cunt like that…”
Her words send a gush of arousal straight to my core, and I try to think of what I can say to let her know that I am a dirty girl…full of hungry, deplorable things that I want to do to her.
“I love your cunt…Mistress. I am your pet…use me.”
More moans leave her lips as I say the words, and it makes me want to prove to her that I can give her more, give her whatever it is she wants.
Keeping two fingers buried inside her, I make a v with my pinky and index finger, leaving room for me to suckle the erect, little hill between her lips at the same time. I begin with long strokes of my tongue, but as I watch her jerk under my mouth, I eagerly suck on the tiny nub until she’s fisting my hair, moaning my name.
And Lord…the feeling of her calling my name at the height of her pleasure makes me feel confident enough to rule the world.
Withdrawing my fingers, I watch her ride out her climax.
“Suck them clean…your fingers. Now.”
I don’t, though, I want to fuck myself with the same fingers that were inside of her, and I lay back, spreading my legs before the fire.
Freyja sits up, looking angry, and grabs my hand.
The look of shock on my face doesn’t soften her. “I said…suck them clean.”
“But, I want to feel your wetness inside me…please….” She watches my face as I beg. “Let me,” I whisper.
Using her hand to guide mine, she inserts my fingers into my own cunt..
It stings slightly at first but melts into pleasure as she slowly moves in and out. “You should have listened to me…”
Mimicking my actions earlier, she assaults the throbbing bud between my lips with her tongue, sucking with such ferocity that I am convulsing, the pleasure too much to handle any longer. I have wanted this for too long…needed the release too badly. My entire body shudders as I am hit with waves and waves of orgasms. It has to be more than one; they don’t stop for a full minute.
“I…that was…”
“…not a gentle orgasm, pet. Did it hurt?” Freyja is on top of me, running her hand down my chest.
“No…well, I mean…it was intense…”
“You have pleased me, pet, but also awakened my hunger.”
I stare up at her with wide eyes, wondering what she means.
“This won’t hurt…too much. Just lay back and let me take care of the punishments. If it is punishments you seek, then I will be the one to give them to you.”
My eyes are wide, the heartbeat in my chest beating furiously in my ears.
Freyja opens her mouth wide, and I see the small fangs just before she strikes my exposed neck.
There is nothing but blackness that follows.
Chapter 26
Freyja
“The boy is innocent in all of this, you must believe me.” I whisper, careful not to disrupt Charity’s blissful slumber on my lap.
Feeding from her weakened her body, but I know she’s resting peacefully from the slow thrum of her heartbeat against my palm.
Garm’s face is screwed up, the shadows of the fire casting sharp lines across his furry eyebrows and overgrown beard. He looks every bit a frightening werewolf in this moment.
“Aye, and her? Is she innocent as well? Another toy for you to play with, Fey.” He growls, teeth bared.
I pause, reflecting on the few moments I shared with Charity. I have not felt a deep intimacy with anyone…ever. My heart skips a beat each time she smiles at me and tucks a hair behind her ear or leaves a lingering touch. Looking at me as if I am forbidden fruit, waiting to be plucked from the tree of knowledge. I want to give her everything she ever desires and more. I want to keep her with me, sharing treasures and secrets and climaxes forever.
“You must not harm them. I will not allow it.”
Garm’s large body barely fits in the chair Charles hid behind earlier. With his face in his hands and broad shoulders hunched, he shakes his head like a dog. It startles me, and I jerk back, my hands leaving the tangles of Charity’s hair to brace myself from falling back into the fire.
“You won’t allow it?”
No one garnered respect from me the way my Afi did. He is the only man besides my father to frighten me into submission. I didn’t know how much longer I can distract him from his love-sworn task, avenging the death of the woman he loved—my grandmother.
“I understand your anger, and your oath to your true love. We will have Thomas’ head on a platter, I promise you that.” As I gently whisper the words, I know my candied tongue cannot coax him the way it has others. I reach out and stroke his muscular thigh, but his teeth are bared, and he glares at me behind years of wrinkled anger.
“I will not stalk any longer, biding my time while you play,” he spits, staring down over Charity’s unmoving body. “I want him dead, but more so, I want him to suffer the way my Annabelle suffered.”
“And we will. I promise you that.”
Garm looks around the house I have created especially for our two guests, and he huffs, “How long do you plan on keeping up with this fantasy? You are incapable of keeping any relationship, and I know you leave your body to feed. This will never last.”
I narrow my eyes at him, a fire rising in my veins that makes me want to say vile things. But he is just an old man who stalked around these woods for a decade waiting for a woman to bed him until he found Annabelle. A woman just as wild as he was.
I must not forget he raised me and protected me.
“You are just angry…you don’t mean that…”
He stands, wrapping a wool blanket around his body and stomping away from the nest of blankets on the floor.
“Perhaps, but even secluding my Annabelle to the woods can’t keep her wild ways tamed. I have a feeling it is the same for you.”
Chapter 27
Charles
As I lean over the railing to listen, I can’t help but feel my throat tighten at the size of the man that stands in front of Freyja’s seated body. He is massive, not the size of a mortal man at all. His shoulders look as wide as my arms when spread.
Just like the tale of the Wolf-man in the stories.
My eyes will not look away as I watch him nearly break the chair I sat in earlier.
Leaves her body to feed?? My God…does she eat children? will she do the same to my Charity?
I rub my eyes as I try to focus on her face, but I can’t stop watching her graceful fingers trace lines over Charity’s sleeping form. They both look utterly beautiful in the fire’s light, and I feel my fingers twitch with need.
A need for what? To take them both at the same time? A tangle of kisses and hair and warmth all wrapped up inside all three of our bodies.
We cann’t stay here any longer. Not with that massive troll lurking about. I needed to get Charity as far away from this house as possible.
Nothing good will come from this place.
Bring her to the tall house beyond the river.
Domenico’s letter is still inside of my jacket pocket, and as I peek over the edge of the loft again, I see it draped over the arm of the chair the oversized man is seated in.
I swallow hard as he becomes agitated with Freyja, yelling at her abruptly, and standing taller than I can ever imagine.
I swallow again.
A plan…I need to come up with a plan.
After I hear Freyja tell the man she will have Thomas’ head on a platter; I can feel my heartbeat pounding inside my neck. Small beads of sweat trickle down the sides of my forehead, and I realize it feels like it’s a hundred degrees in here.
I strip off my shirt and pants, trying to close my eyes and make sense of everything I’ve just seen.
So, the Troll-man wants Thomas dead, and Thomas wants all the witches dead…
Why did Domenico want Freyja brought to him alive? How will I ever get her away from her house and her pets?
It is then that I realize the only way to get Freyja to leave is to promise her what she wants.
Thomas.
I toss and turn for what feels like hours, and soon, the birds begin to chirp outside, the daylight breaking in through the windows.
I know what I need to do, but I doubt Charity will ever forgive me once she realizes it. She will know I am lying to Freyja about Thomas’ location; there has to be a way around it.
How am I to face that beast of a man? I nearly wet myself just listening to him speak, watching the way his movements are like violent strikes.
Pulling on my pants, I climb down the ladder quietly, looking around the large room, and finding Charity and Freyja tangled with each other in front of the fireplace, asleep.
I kneel beside Charity; her cheeks are speckled with tiny brown dots across the flush of sleep on her skin. I reach out, stroking one with the back of my hand. Her fingers are intertwined with Freyja’s just under her chin, and I place my hand on top of theirs.
I am not large by any standards, but I am tall and fully grown. Both of their feminine fingers fit perfectly beneath mine, and I cover them with mine.
“Charles?”
Charity’s sleepy voice snaps my eyes away from the three-handed masterpiece, and I smile at her.
She looks like disheveled, satisfied like sex, and I can’t help but bring my lips to hers. I want it too much.
My resolve shatters there in the morning twilight. I don’t know if it’s the magic or the cabin or maybe even blatant fear coursing through my body. All I know is I want to feel her lips caress mine for longer than a moment, and I want my fingers in her hair. She smells like flowers and divine feminine—a musk I can’t quite name.
She releases a small sigh into my mouth, and I almost come undone at that very moment. My hand is on her jaw, then around her neck, and the pushing and pulling of our mouths are ravenous.
Her tongue glides over mine, and I slip my hand under the covers eagerly.
My body is pressing against hers, and I resist the urge to grind myself into her hip, remembering we are not alone.
Her hands run down my back, and she opens her legs for me. Two more sets of hands caress the backs of my thighs, followed by a light touch removing my under-shorts. Four hands are on me all at once, and the feeling is mesmerizing. My senses can’t keep up with who is touching where and when, but my cock is hard, throbbing against Charity’s thigh.
I pull back from her and turn to Freyja, whose eyes are a blazing green surrounding the deep pool of black in the center. Her skin glows with uncanny youth, and I stand, stuttering apologies to Charity.
“I…I’m sorry, Cher, I can’t.”
Charity sits up, one of her hands still entangled with Freyja’s. “Why not? You can. You are not a pastor…or ordained, or anything like that. You are just a… lamb.”
“A lamb?” I ask, a little shocked.
She looks at Freyja from beneath her lashes, then back to me again, “I just meant…you follow them.”
I run a hand through my hair and reach for my shirt and jacket that hang from the chair behind me.
“I’ve had enough, Charity. It’s time to go. Now.”
The sternness in my voice surprises me once again, and I can feel my heart racing in my chest. Whatever I do, I need to make sure we are leaving together, even if it meant sounding like an angry husband.
This isn’t you…you are acting. This isn’t what you really want…who you really are.
As if reading my thoughts, Charity narrows her eyes at me. “You know, you sound like a real twat. You sound exactly like Thomas. I don’t want to go back there…back to them.”
I know she is stubborn and strong-willed, albeit a little weaker because of her gender. Although was she? Does her being a woman also mean she is bereft of choice and decision? Is she only weak because I am taught that women were weak?
What if the thing men truly feared is a woman stronger than them?
I feel like an ass, but I also feel as though Freyja can’t be trusted.
I do the only thing I can think of, with Freyja’s eyes fixed on me with a murderous glare. I pull Charity up by her arm, bringing her face close to mine in one violent tug. “Do you trust her more than you trust me?”
Her soft face is scrunched up in disgust, and it pains me it is me who has caused it.
I will rather watch her head fall back onto the pillow again in unbridled pleasure, not this face that looks like she never wants to see me again.
She snaps her arm back and steps back away from me.
Shit.
I thought she will cower or she will take my tone as an order instead of defying it. I thought she will cave under pressure and submit to me.
“I’m beginning to think I cannot trust any man.” she spits out, gathering her dress in her hands and storming off to the small bathroom at the back of the house. The heavy wooden door slams shut, and I am left in the middle of the elaborate and over-the-top library with Freyja.
I turn to the large canvas that sits on the easel to my right, knowing full well my mind has already created a thousand possible masterpieces. The Deacon told me artists are some of the most brilliant men of our time, but artists worship the canvas and do not have time to worship God. All my focus should be on God.
And how much praying have I done since I arrived in Bethlehem? None, not since the day I laid my eyes on Charity.
Thomas is always angry, always on the hunt for righteousness and repentance—two things that went hand in hand. He didn’t care about Charity’s mother, and never gave a thought to the well-being of her and her sister. He only thought of himself and his God.
How is that Godly? Isn’t it about showing kindness and understanding to your neighbor? To your kin? Did he really care to punish who is responsible for those children’s death, or is he just pushing his Godly agenda?
I rub my face with my right hand, my left hanging at my side as I reel.
I denied myself the things I desired daily; the things I wanted so badly. All things that will bring me fleeting happiness. My mother never wanted this kind of life for me, she told me she will only ever live in the moment—that life was too short.
I fight back the lump in the back of my throat, the tears that threaten to break. So instead, I pull back my hand and punch the easel with all my strength, sending it flying into the nearest bookcase, and shattering into pieces.
It is then I know exactly what I need to do…for Charity…for myself.
Before I even notice she has moved, Freyja is behind me, stroking my hair and whispering in my ear, “Lost little boy, why do you think you wandered here? It is all meant to be…for you…for her. You are home.”
An icy finger runs down my back, and I close my eyes as her hot breath hits that sensitive spot inside my ear. I shiver, and let my tongue wet my lips.
And I surrender.
My cock moves, and instead of berating my thoughts with how wrong it will be if I just let her touch me, I say, “Then show me what’s meant to be.”
