Broken God (7 page)

No surprise, but it
still sings through me like a fucking song, one I know without ever having
heard it.

It still makes my
heart kick in my chest, like the first time I saw Del.

"Tonight, I
want you to make me forget," she whispers.

I lean across the
rock and the sunlight flares across the sky, painting the world golden and red
and the deepest purple I've seen in a hundred thousand sunsets.

When I kiss her, it's
under that color
-
bright
sky, with my power flaring like a supernova and I feel the arrow on my wrist
tingle.

I close my eyes and
press my lips to her and lick into her mouth as my power runs wild and rampant,
and she shudders under
it.

Her fingers are
braced against my shoulder, and her fingernails dig into my shoulders. It feels
like Del,
yet
utterly different.

She tastes like
chocolate and the wild
,
wind
-
tossed mountains I
used to love, and she tastes like home.

We're wrapped
around each other when we fall into her car. She hasn't quit touching me since
we lost that damn ice cream cone and I licked the taste of chocolate from her
lips and all that remained was the sweet warm taste of
Iris
.

The ride back to my
apartment was long as fuck, and I had to bat her hand away from my cock four
times before Del snarled, softly, and planted herself in my lap, glaring golden
-
eyed at Iris.

Which would
probably have annoyed any other girl.

I held my breath,
waiting for it to annoy Iris. Instead she laughed, this wild
,
free thing that
banished the last shadows that had been clinging to her all day.

She brushed a
finger over Del's little head and she grinned. "
Okay
, kitten. I'll
leave him alone. Until we get home."

I shudder because
that word in her mouth, about my place. It's every fucking thing.

"Iris," I
murmur when her fingers feather over my thigh, and she laughs, low and dirty.
Pulls away.

“Take me home,
Apollo.”

When we step into
my apartment, I’m almost shaking with the urge to reach for her, to drag her
into my arms and kiss her senseless. She’d pulled away in the car, sitting
almost demurely against the door, her eyes glittering with amusement as she
watched me and we drove.

But I pause,
watching her take in the little apartment.

I watch her
as
she watches the
space as it’s revealed to her.

It looks too lived
in, shabby and cluttered, and comfortable. My guitar and a lute are on the
table, cluttered with scraps of paper scribbled with lyrics and music.

The sink is
overflowing with dirty dishes and I have a heartbeat of ‘oh shit’ before she
grins, toothy and amused, and turns her gaze to my sitting area. The sun is
streaming and as I follow her into the room, it blossoms strong.

She’s in my space,
the scent of her filling my senses. And basking in my light.

I couldn’t resist
her if I tried.

As it is, I don’t.

I tug her to me,
and she laughs, low and sexy when I take her by the hips, pulling her into the
sunlight. Del darts away, snarling under her breath, and I dismiss her
entirely, because I’m in my chair, and the sunlight is everywhere, soaking into
me and turning her into a gilded statue, all love and light. I pull her into my
lap and she settles there like she belongs, her hands in my hair and her knees
on either side of my hips.

“What are you doing
to me?” I murmur and she smiles.

She kisses like a
revelation, slow and easy, all of the earlier rush and fury soothed now, as she
learns the shape of my mouth and licks at the seam of my lips.

And I let her,
keeping still and passive as she licks into my mouth and nips at my lips,
tasting until it feels like she’s devouring me, and still wants more. Until
she’s rocking against me, her sweet little body anxious and needy, tiny noises
spilling out and I swallow them down like ambrosia.

When she finally
pulls, we’re both gasping and my patience is at an end.

“What do you want?”
I murmur and she rocks against me.

“I want to forget
my life, for a few hours. I want you.”

She looks at me,
and I wonder what she sees.

The lost
,
blue eyes and
golden hair, the strange beautiful boy?

Or the man that I
am, under the mantle of godhood?

Del saw that. I
didn’t realize until now just how much I want the same thing from Iris.

“Apollo?” she
whispers, fingers curling in my hair. “You with me?”

I grin, and my hands
tighten on her hips. Fingers digging in
bruising
hard and I drag
her down, kissing her curving neck and she shivers, writhing against me.

I slip her
closer
, until when her
hips roll, she grinds against me and I groan into her skin, nipping at the pale
flesh until she gasps and I grin against her. “Bastard,” she huffs and I laugh
outright at that.

She wiggles out of
my grasp and hits her knees yanking on my belt.

“Iris,” I gasp, and
she smiles up at me, and it’s all Del and
mine
.

“Shut up, Apollo,” she
murmurs and I do. I tilt my hips up and she grins as she tugs my jeans down.
When I’m naked, she sits back on her heels and watches me with hungry, wide
eyes.

“Fuck, Apollo,” she
whispers. I want to preen under that admiring stare, and the way she licks her
lips, hungry, but I don’t get a chance, because she’s leaning forward, and
sinking down, taking me deep in her mouth. I gasp as the wet heat engulfs me,
I
sink and
swirl
.

Iris on her knees,
worshipping my dick, is every fantasy I didn’t know I had. My hand
twists
into her
dirty gold
hair, holding her
but letting her set the pace as she licks up my shaft, hollows her cheeks and
sucks hard.

Her hands are
rolling my balls, tugging in that way that’s distracting and hot and I want to
cut all control and fuck into her mouth, until her lipstick is smeared on her
face
and my cock. Her
tongue probes at my slit and I groan, a long low noise and fuck this.

I tug on her hair,
a sharp yank that drags her eyes to mine.

“Wanna fuck you,” I
whisper.

Her eyes go wide
and she sucks hard once more, just enough to drag a hissed curse from me, and
then she comes off my dick with a pop.

“Here or the bed?”
she asks, and her voice is husky and fucked.

I want to hear her
sound like that every day.

I want her to
always sound like that, like she’s just sucked my dick and is so hungry for
more that she’s almost shaking with want.

My bed is covered
in shadows, and here is wrapped up in sunlight and the smell of something
ancient.

There isn’t really
a question.

“Here,” I whisper.

She smiles, a quick
flash of teeth and then she’s tugging her
sundress
up over her head, and she stands there in
her
white
tights
and a bright blue bra with white lace. She’s pale and lightly freckled, and
she’s grinning, still amused by something that I don’t know and can’t
bring
myself to ask.

I just want to see
that smile there.

I tug her closer,
shoving her pants down her hips and dragging her into my lap.

Her panties are
white cotton boy shorts, simple and practical and unassuming.

And she’s the
prettiest thing I’ve seen in a thousand years.

And she’s mine.

You’ll find me. Claim me. Kill and kill and kill.

I shake
Del
from my head and
lean forward, kissing over
Iris’
exposed throat and down to her breast,
still cupped in that pretty bra. I tug it down impatiently and don’t even take
time to admire her before I’m dragging my teeth over her pink nipple, and she
moans, rocking into me, her hips riding my leg.

Iris is completely
unabashed in her pleasure. Riding me and whispering dirty in my ear as her
fingers yank at my hair, using me as she chases that elusive bit of friction that
will push her over the edge.

I slip a hand
between us and into her cotton panties, into the soft wet heat between her
legs, and she screams, as I
slide
a slippery finger over her clit. Bucks
against me, gasping and whimpering as I finger fuck her.

“Pollo,” she gasps,
her eyes closed. And I want more.

Need more.

I need to taste
her. Need to feel her wrapped around me and her legs dragging me closer as she
writhes on my bed.

I need everything
from this girl, and her bright eyes.

“Fuck, Apollo,” she
gasps as I curve my fingers and fuck her harder.

She comes like
that, her mouth hanging open and panting curses against my skin. Riding my
fingers like they hold the secrets of the universe.

Her silky inner
walls shuddering and shaking around my fingers.

Before it’s even
over, I slip my hand free, and she catches it, drags it to her lips and sucks
my fingers clean, her eyes closing and a groan slipping free.

Gods above.

“Wanna fuck you,” I
say again, my voice hoarse and low.

She nods eagerly.
“Please.”

I shove her boy
shorts down and she crawls back into my lap, whimpering already over the loss
of contact.

As she rises above
me, positioning herself over my cock, teasing me with the wet heat, I grip her
hips, hard. Until she looks at me and I lean forward, nip at her collar bone.
“Go slow.”

A smirk twists up
her lips, and then she’s sinking down on me and I can’t think of anything but
the wet heat of her. Wrapping me up and feeling impossibly like home. I shudder
and she moans, a long
,
drawn out noise that I recognize as my name.

My wrist aches. She
rises up and then rocks back down, riding my cock as I drag her lips back down
to collide with mine, rough and hungry and I feel her shivering, her hips
rocking and rocking and “
Fuck
,
Apollo, you’re so good,” she gasps.

Her rhythm is
beginning to stutter, breaking apart as she gets close.

I can feel my own
orgasm, building and I need her to come first. I need her to have everything I
can give her.

Power explodes
through me and she shrieks, grinding down and I come, hard, deep inside her and
she screams again, clamping around me, her orgasm splashing through us both. It
last forever.

It lasts a
heartbeat.

It doesn’t really
matter, how long it lasts, or how good it was—
amazingly,
the best sex I’ve
ever had, incomparable.

What really matters
is that when it’s over, and she’s slumped against
me
, a curled question that smells of coffee
and sugar, everything is changed.

She’s changed me.

Maybe she didn’t
mean it. Maybe I fought it for eons.

But it doesn’t
change that we are both different.

Not all sex is
about sex.

I wish I remembered
that before I fucked Iris.

She smiles.

She always smiles.

It doesn’t matter that she shakes with fear or that she is loose
and pliant, or even when she’s dancing and seductive, dragging me into her
silky bed and riding me until I’m gasping and her vocabulary has been reduced
to my name, a mindless chant.

It doesn’t matter if she is virgin or Madonna or whore. If she
is wildly experienced or sweet and untouched, or even if she’s been married to
the same man for twenty years.

When she takes me in her bed or I fuck her against the walls of
my temple, and her prison, she smiles. She laughs and whispers my name and
writhes against me.

A thousand girl all the same, and everyone impossibly different.

And every one of them
mine
.

“Take me,” she whispers, and it’s a plea and a promise, both.

Like she is offering something that I can’t name.

Maybe I just don’t want to name it.

But I take her. I take them all, an endless line of girls who
bend for me, who I love and spoil, who are given every gift and who are cursed.