Mythe - Mythe And Magick Part 11

He pushed her back onto her hands and knees and gripped her hips, staring down at the sight of his c.o.c.k sliding home inside her a.s.s. The tender, pink flesh stretched tight around him as he pulled out and pushed back in, his hands clenching her hips tightly. She fell forward onto her chest and Angelo swore as he picked up on her movements, sensed that she was stroking her c.l.i.t, then sliding her fingers in and out of her cream-soaked v.a.g.i.n.a while she panted and sobbed out his name.

"You're tighter, hotter, sweeter than anything I've ever felt in my life," he rasped as he pulled out and drove back into her, slamming home and shuddering as she tightened around him and gasped. He could feel what it did to her, the sweet, hot licks of pleasure-pain that licked through her each time he thrust into her. It was mind numbing, feeling both his pleasure, and hers. His eyes slitted and his sac drew tight against him as he fought the urge to pound himself into her and come, ending this first encounter.

"Angelo," she wailed as he settled into a hard, steady rhythm, gritting his teeth, his head falling back, eyes closed.

I think I love you...

He went mad.

She didn't say it out loud.

But then, she didn't have to.

Shoving her hips low, he pounded his thick c.o.c.k inside her, bending low over her body, setting his teeth into her shoulder and growling manically as she reached back and grabbed a fistful of his hair. The powerful muscles in his hips, back and legs propelled him as he jackhammered into her, feeling her a.s.s start to clench and convulse around him.

Pulling his mouth from her shoulder, he growled against her ear, "Come, Jordan. Scream my name, and come for me."

She was already sobbing out his name, and the muscles inside her virgin a.s.s were clenching down with climax as he pushed his way back inside and started to come, his c.o.c.k jerking viciously as he pumped his s.e.m.e.n inside her. She vised down and started to climax, screaming as he worked a hand underneath her, then pumped two thick fingers in and out of her creamy swollen s.e.x.

He pushed his c.o.c.k in to the hilt, and held firm, groaning as the spasms ripping through her milked him dry. Burying his face against her neck, he groaned and wrapped one arm around her, holding her tightly. She worked her arms around his, so that she cuddled his arm to her chest while she sobbed out his name, then sighed it as he rolled them onto their sides.

Chapter Six.

When they both opened their eyes, they realized they had an audience of one.

Lee stood in the door staring at them, his eyes flashing with fury.

And Jordan giggled.

"Isn't this poetic justice," she drawled, snuggling back against Angelo.

Angelo pushed up onto his elbow and snagged a sheet from the tangle at the foot of the bed, flipping it over Jordan before he gently eased out of her, soothing her with a kiss on her nape as she flinched. "If you've a need to talk to us, Lee, you can wait in the other room while we take a shower," Angelo offered, still reclining on the bed.

"Was this to get back at me, Jordan?" Lee asked coolly.

"What? This? No. I'm not a s.l.u.t, who will go sleeping with a man for any old reason. I slept with Angelo because I wanted him," she said, smiling sleepily up at the man in question, not even feeling a flare of anger towards her ex-fiance. "And he wants me, more than you ever did. All you ever wanted me for was my money, wasn't it, Lee? And, no, before you ask, Angelo hasn't said anything. I didn't ask, he didn't tell. I put two and two together. I'm a smart girl. You like money, you wanted more, and I have it."

He didn't even bother to deny it. "We're a good match, Jordan. Neither of us are the type to get overly emotional about-"

She c.o.c.ked a brow at him. "I don't know. I was emotional a few minutes ago." Her heart was still racing from it. "And I intend to get in that state as often as I can."

Lee sneered. "I thought you were more refined than that. If it's a good b.u.t.t-f.u.c.k you want, I can give it to you. I thought you were asking for something you couldn't handle, but I'm willing to play whatever games you want to try," he drawled.

"Watch it," Angelo said softly, sitting up and pinning Lee with a warning stare. "You've been sitting at a desk, playing businessman for a long time, Lee. You've gotten soft. And I'm trying to remember you're my blood, my twin. I'm trying to remember that. But if you aren't careful, I'll forget."

Lee opened his mouth, and then stomped away, swearing under his breath.

Jordan was still smiling.

Angelo stared at her.

Shrugging, she said, "That's more emotion than I've ever seen from him. But I think it's over the money. Not me. It's sad that he can't care about a person that way."

Twenty minutes later, showered, wearing one of Angelo's shirts, she met with Lee in the living room, meeting his eyes squarely, with Angelo standing at her back. She lifted her chin and reached up, lacing the fingers of one hand with the fingers that Angelo stroked over her shoulder.

"Let's head this off first-I'm not going back with you. I'm not marrying you. You've had three days to get your things out of my house. As to what const.i.tutes your things, they are the things you purchased with your money, or our money. I won't fight over any of that. But if one thing that was there before you came is gone, I will hurt you badly. All of my stuff is listed on my insurance policy, so don't bother trying to be petty that way," she warned.

"Oh, he won't, will you, brother?" Angelo asked.

"I'm not planning on leaving here without you, Jordan," Lee said lazily, staring at her with hooded eyes.

"You don't have a choice," she said shrugging. "I don't want to be with you."

"So you'd give up a good marriage for a couple of f.u.c.ks with him?" Lee sneered. "Angelo is little more than a vagrant."

"Angelo is the man I should have been with all along," she replied. "He's a better man than you by far. I bet I'd never walk in on him f.u.c.king another woman. And I'm curious-if your so-called psychic gifts are so f.u.c.king powerful, so much better than Angelo's, how come you didn't know I was there at the house before I caught you?"

Angelo smiled slowly. "Lee is good at putting people on. He has a built-in compa.s.s, he can locate people through things that he's touched. And he can read your thoughts if he's touching you. He picks up random thoughts from strangers on a regular basis, but there's no consistency to it. And he and I can speak mind to mind, but he's not the swami he'd like you to think," Angelo drawled. "That's why he's the businessman and I'm the locator and investigator. If I'd known what a shabby partner I was taking on...I thought he would at least try normal means of investigating."

Lee flushed angrily, shoving up off the chair. "Jordan, this is bulls.h.i.t. Come on, let's go home and talk this out," he insisted.

"No. I want Angelo. I'm falling in love with him. And he loves me. He always has," she said, her eyes wide with the wonder of that. "He really, truly loves me. And you never did. Why would I give that up?"

They barely heard the sound of the door slamming as Jordan turned to face Angelo, lifting her face for a kiss, holding him tight to her.

Why would I give you up? she thought, knowing he would hear her.

He held her tightly against him as he turned and pressed her to the wall. Pulling his mouth away, and kissing his way to her ear, he murmured, "You're still my prisoner, baby. What makes you think you've got a choice?"

She laughed as she fisted her hands in his hair. "Make sure my parole hearing isn't for a good century, at least," she suggested. "I'll be on real bad behavior anyway."

"Do you promise?"

She giggled and boosted herself up, wrapping her legs around him. "Absolutely," she purred, rubbing against him. "I'll be as bad as I know how to be. But, you'll probably have to teach me."

MYTHE: SATYR.

Introduction.

I was browsing the web a few months ago, searching for information on Greek mythology. I had this idea for a new work involving elves, angels, and vampires. I saw a lot of wonderful pictures, one in particular of this unbelievably beautiful Satyr. I started seeing a picture of this Satyr in my mind, so sad, so lost, seeking his own mate.

Daklin's story was actually the one I meant to write first, but Arys planted himself so firmly in my head, I simply couldn't get him out.

His story is the introduction to the world I have created. The fantastical world of Mythe. It is not a complete story in itself, but it wasn't meant to be.

I hope you enjoy it. I hope it intrigues you enough to be as hungry to read more of the world of Mythe as I am to write it. Now, please join me as we enter MYTHE...

Chapter One.

In a World Called Mythe

Arys used to love to look through the Gates to the other world. He had since he was but a young thing, all big eyes and two nubby horns on his skull, while his mother teased and chided him for his endless curiosity.

But he was a satyr, wasn't he? Satyrs were supposed to be curious. And mischievous, and devious, and according to some, even downright evil...

But Arys was a satyr who had more or less forgotten how to laugh, and he no longer cared about the other world, the Gates, or the fact that he had been charged with watching this one in his wood.

A year ago today, his wife had died.

Lorne had fallen sick to a fever while carrying their first child and the Healers in the Cyruon hadn't cared enough to save a female satyr who was having trouble with her babe.

None of the Healers who had been around had believed Arys when he had told them he was a Gatekeeper. The Healer who had heard of his plight and knew him had arrived too late, and Lorne had already died, along with their unborn child. Arys had retreated to his wood and hadn't left since.

He would not have a choice now. The Council was calling a Summit, and as one of the Gatekeepers, Arys had no choice but to go. He absently rubbed the scar on his palm before turning to study the wood behind him. The scar marked him as a Gatekeeper, and his blood had flowed from the wound that had formed the scar, binding him. Not to the wood-his birth had done that-but to the Gate that was inside the wood.

He ran a hand through his sable hair, fingering one of the two horns that curved upward from his scalp. He moved into his iskita and started to prepare for his journey, his heart feeling heavy. Once he would have looked forward to such a journey, to the adventure, to seeing people he knew were friends. The elvin lord, Daklin, Gatekeeper in the elvish realms, was a wry, droll character, nearly as curious about the mortal realms as Arys had once been.

Ronal de Ahmshe, the vampire lord, Gatekeeper in his territory far, far north was almost frightening, but very intriguing. And the women he brought with him...once, before Arys had wed Lorne, those women had been the light of the world.

And Cray, the fallen one. Some whispered that he truly was an angel fallen from heaven. Some said he was a messenger. Some said he was one of the Lord's henchmen. Some said he was one of the evil ones. But Cray was a friend to Arys, and had been one of the few who had offered true sympathy and comfort after Lorne had died.

There were others, but those three, the other three Pillar Gatekeepers, were his truest friends. The Pillar Gates were the largest ones, the ones that had the most refugees from the mortal realm falling through them. And the ones with the most criminals from Arys' realm trying to escape into the mortal realm where they could use their various magicks to hide and wreak havoc on the more helpless mortals there.

Arys scoffed at the thought. Helpless my f.u.c.king hooves, he thought, glancing at the two cloven appendages his legs ended in. They might not have the magick in the mortal realms that his world had, but they were not helpless. The weapons alone could destroy their own planet. As he recalled some of the things he had learned during his time as a Gatekeeper, some four decades now, the poor broken children who had tumbled through his Gate, the battered women, the hopeless men, all thinking life had simply run out.

Maybe they are right, Arys thought bleakly, taking a wrap and clothing himself. He sometimes wore it in his wood, not often. But sometimes. Since he was taking to the public roads though, the humans and the other inhabitants of his world seemed to have a problem seeing an unclothed satyr in their midst. Like he was likely to fall on their women and ravish them.

Arys was in no mood to ravish any woman.

He simply wanted his wife and child back.

His swarthy face etched with grief, he didn't hear the soft whicker behind him until the unicorn had already entered his iskita and brushed his velvety nose across Arys' arm, reaching out with a silent mental touch. What ails my brother?

Arys looked at Faryn and smiled sadly. "The same thing that has ailed me for the past twelve moons, my friend," he said hoa.r.s.ely, closing his eyes and trying vainly to shove his grief aside. "I did not know you were coming so close to the Gate, Faryn."

Something feels amiss, the stallion said, tossing his head in an equine shrug.

"A refugee?"

No, Faryn mused, c.o.c.king his head. The horn-silver, swirled with gold-glinted in the dim light. But not one of the black ones trying to escape us either. Some one from THERE is trying to open it.

THERE could only be one place. The mortal realms. Arys shook his head. "The mortals do not know how to open the Gates. The Gates open as they see fit."

They have been opened before, Faryn said, shrugging again. But I felt a disturbance and I came to see. His bluer-than-blue eyes turned to study Arys and he looked as sorrowful as an eternal creature could. I grieve to know that you still hurt, young satyr. Lorne would hate to know that you are still grieving. She is no longer suffering, know that. She is in a place where she is ever young and happy and well.

Arys turned away and blocked his thoughts automatically. And she is in a place where I am not, he added. A place where I cannot touch her, smell her, mount her and sink my c.o.c.k inside her sweet sheath. A place where she is beyond my reach. I shall never know my child, or know another moment's happiness.

The stallion made a low thrumming sound in his deep chest, hanging his head over Arys' chest, and the satyr realized he had not kept his thoughts deep enough. In the equine embrace, he grieved as the unicorn softly whispered into his mind. Now that, my young satyr, is simply not true. You shall know happiness. And it shall be soon.

Chapter Two.

In the Mortal Realm

Her sweaty red curls fell into her face as Pepper lowered her aching arms. It had almost worked. Almost. There was something out there, something she could almost feel, almost see, almost touch. It lingered, like a forgotten name, on the tip of her magick, and she knew, just knew, if she tried a little harder, she'd have it.

With a sigh, she plopped down on her b.u.t.t and reached for her robe.

Practicing magick in the nude was not helping.

The silver cross between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s was cold and damp. Glancing down, she said, "There's nothing wrong with being naked. But I feel silly, like some wanna-be Wiccan dancing in the forest."

There was nothing wanna-be about Pepper St. John. Her birth certificate said Patrice St. John. But she had been Pepper since she was a baby. She'd had magick for about as long.

And she didn't call herself a Wiccan or a witch.