Free Broken God by Nazarea Andrews Page A

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.
    They smile, each one.
    And they wake up, every time, screaming. Screaming and
screaming, wrapped up in my arms, my body still pressed to theirs, aching and
full and sated, and she would scream, as threads of possibilities spun out, all
around us.
    And I would blink, my vision clear, and my power pulsing.
    Del screaming was my constant, my inevitable, my always. I wish
I could give my girl everything without giving her the worst I had to offer.
    She shakes, as I