Chapter 20

Aslow-curling warmth woke me, and I let out a deep sigh, feeling well rested for the first time since I got to Ford. I kept my eyes closed, just appreciating the peace, the lack of chest-cinching anxiety. It would return, but in these first few moments before my mind remembered how to think, I was gifted quietude and calm.

My clit throbbed, a wave of pleasure and need moving through me, and there were no prizes for guessing what kind of dream I'd been having, even if I couldn't quite remember dreaming. Oh god, did I dream of Death and Miz and—

My clit pulsed again and—and—oh god, that was a tongue—

I ripped my eye mask off, my breath catching in a panicked gasp as I stared down my body. The covers had been pulled down, the bottoms of my fuzzy cartoon pyjamas removed and Tor lay between my legs, his gold hands splayed over my inner thighs as he ate my pussy.

In the hysterical moment between me seeing him and speaking, Honey's words came back to me. You've had like, one boyfriend and I really doubt he could find the clit.

But Tor had no problems finding it, and made my eyes roll back by circling it over and over.

"What—" I gasped, pleasure making my hips jerk, "the fuck do you think you're doing?"

He brushed a reverent kiss to my throbbing clit and said, "Waking my wife."

Wife. God. Okay, that answered the question of what bride meant to them. My hands shook, and I swear I lifted them to push him away, but Tor's tongue traced those euphoric circles around my aching nerves again and—god.

"You taste fucking amazing," he told me between sloppy licks, and I realised I was soaking wet when he flicked over my entrance to devour every drop that dripped from me. How long had he been doing this while I slept…?

"This is so fucked up," I groaned, covering my face. Partly because I knew it was inflamed and not my sexiest look1 but also so he couldn't see me bite my lip.

"I thought of you all night," he said against my pussy, making me shudder at the sensation of his breath on my heated, sensitive skin. "I couldn't get you out of my head. My bride. Mine."

Tingles rushed down my legs. I bit my lip harder, unable to stop my hips bucking up into Tor when he groaned and devoured me with wild, ravenous curls of his tongue.

"Look at me, my cute little succulent."

"I can't," I said, ignoring the name.

"Not even if I do this?" he asked and—sealed his lips around my clit, flicking with his tongue. A grunt drew out of me before I could stop it. I had to release my lip from my teeth or I'd draw blood.

"Why are you—? I'm not really—you don't want me, this is just the curse messing with you."

"Look at me," Torment said again, and his tone was so different, the madness and obsession replaced with a grave seriousness.

I swallowed, dropped my hands, and met his feverish brown eyes. He was every bit as handsome as I remembered, his face soft and sharp at once, his head shaved in a way that only enhanced his vicious beauty, and his mouth—his mouth shone with my arousal. I couldn't look away even if shyness and my crumbling self-esteem made me want to.

"I don't give a shit about the curse, Cat. It only made you our bride—it hasn't made me feel what I do. I want to be here, with your fucking irresistible taste on my tongue, with your body in my hands, because you are sexy as fuck, and brave, and I love those little quips you throw my way when your fear dips. I'm enthralled by you. You are what has me aching and desperate for you, not anything that bitch did."

It was a pretty convincing speech as far as speeches went. The fierce way he spoke, not letting a single iota of doubt form, helped. He meant every word, and it was baffling but flattering as hell.

"Oh," I breathed.

"And," he added, hands gliding up the outside of my naked thighs, "everything I uncover about you, every scowl and gasp and frown, just makes me even more desperate for you. You are my wife. Mine to keep. So lay back, Beautiful, and take as many orgasms as you want from me."

My eyes were wide. I had reservations—a whole stack of them—but it was a little hard to remember them with a hot as fuck man between my thighs, willing to give me as many orgasms as I wanted.

"Do you really like the way I taste?" I asked after a moment, propped up on my elbows but relaxing, bit by bit, as he scattered open-mouthed kisses up my thighs to my centre.

"I'm obsessed with the way you taste," he corrected, his light brown eyes filled with fire. "You don't mind if I keep you in bed for the rest of your life so I can keep my tongue buried in your pussy, do you?"

"Um. I have classes."

Tor's response was a sulky sound that made me smile. "Fucking school."

I laughed, the sound bursting out of its own will, and Tor's eyes flashed up to me, lingering, staring. "What?" I asked self-consciously, my face burning.

"You are… beyond beautiful," he breathed, hands skimming up my thighs to spread them wider. He kept his eyes on me as he lowered his head, kissing my clit. "My Cat. My wife."

I scraped my teeth over my lip, nerves tangling my belly, but I asked, "Does that make you mine, then?"

"Oh fuck yeah," Tor groaned, his eyes going heavy lidded. "I am entirely and completely yours." He dove back into my pussy, stroking all the sensitive places, like he'd already learned exactly what made me gasp and my hips jolt. "You have to share me with Death and Miz, though," he said against my entrance, catching all my arousal on his tongue like it was the finest wine and he couldn't bear to miss a single drop.

"Won't that—" A whimper ate my words when he tightened his grip on my thighs and dragged me closer, his mouth finding my clit, wrapping it in heat and blissful pressure. "Oh, god. I don't want to—to—"

Get between them.2

Tor groaned, the vibrations making my eyes cross, ripping a guttural sound from me before he released my throbbing clit. "There's a place for you among us. Don't worry so much, my wife. You won't cause conflict."

Miz already hates me, I wanted to say, but I dropped back against the bed, my elbows collapsing under me when his tongue swirled inside me, finding places I hadn't realised were quite so sensitive.

"God, Tor," I groaned, and ignored the fact I barely knew him, and he was only here because of a curse. People grabbed random men and hooked up all the time. This didn't have to be more complicated than that.

Except he kept calling me his, and his wife, and looking at me like that.

"That's it, Cat," he murmured, watching me. "You lay back and let your husband take care of you. Tell me when you're close. I want to watch you come. No, I need to watch you. I'll die unless you come all over my tongue."

"Seems—dramatic," I gasped, a deep throb going through my pussy as his motions turned frantic, edged with that same intensity I'd first noticed in him. Like a predator who'd sighted prey and refused to let it escape.

"It's fucking essential," he groaned against me, fingers biting deeper into my thighs, his breath quickening as mine did. I should have felt the icy bite of my room's temperature but I caught fire beneath him, every flick and suck and stroke pushing me higher, until I was so hot I couldn't bear it.

"Mine," he gasped. "Mine, all mine."

And the secret part of me that longed to be held, loved, protected, claimed filled with relief and satisfaction, and deep, fulfilling pleasure. As my body wound tighter, my soul seemed to exhale a breath of relief, and the combination of the two was ruinous.

"Oh fuck. Tor!"

"That's my girl," he groaned, tongue lashing my clit. "That's my wife."

"I'm close," I gasped, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets so I didn't grab his head and keep his mouth where I needed it. "Fuck, I'm gonna—"

Tor's next exhale was deep and growling and so sexy that my back arched. "That's it, Cat. Come for your husband. Come all over my tongue, sear your taste into my tongue so I'll taste your pussy all day."

I couldn't take the dirty talk. I screwed my eyes shut, my breathing rupturing as pleasure drove into me. My hips slammed up into him, and butterflies filled my belly when his arm pressed to my stomach, keeping my ass to the bed so he could keep eating me. Hot little breaths left him, each one a groan, a growl, perfectly synced with every bolt of pleasure that clenched my pussy, throbbed in my clit.

I squirmed as he kept licking me, my skin as hot as fire, the sheets rasping every sensitive inch of it and the places where our bodies met fucking bliss. I loved his hands on me, loved the feeling of him pinning me down, and it was that edge of control that made me come harder than I ever had before.

When pleasure's chokehold released me, I melted into the bed with a groan. "Fuck."

"Mm." Tor kissed my clit, the seam of my thigh, my hip bone. "I think my wife likes being held down."

My inner muscles throbbed, a deep clench of pleasure that squeezed a whimper from me. It was answer in itself.

Warm hands glided up my waist and under my fuzzy pyjama top. Kisses graced every bit of skin he bared—the curve of my stomach, the plain of my ribs, the lace trim of my cotton bra.

He made a soft sound of protest. "I'm mortally offended that you sleep in a bra."

"Sorry," I said, but I was smiling. "My boobs have a mind of their own while I sleep; they're too big so they flop around all over the place."

Oh, god.

My face burned. Why did I say that? What the hell was wrong with me? Here I was with the hottest man I'd ever been in bed with, and I was talking about boob flops!

But Tor wasn't looking at me like I was insane. His eyes shone with insanity. "I want them to flop all over me," he groaned.

I blinked. I wasn't used to my weirdness being a turn-on. In the next moment, I grinned. "That could be arranged."

He groaned again, deeper, louder, and pulled himself up my body as his hands wandered higher. Hot lips met my own, and I opened for him, his tongue greedily stroking mine, filling my mouth with my own sweet, smoky taste.

"Fuck," he moaned, and kissed me harder. One hand ripped from under my shirt so he could cradle my face, turning me to kiss deeper, fiercer, while his other hand dove under my bra. The heat and rasp of his fingers over my delicate skin made me groan into his mouth, and he turned feral at the sound of it.

I'd never been kissed like this—like Tor was starving for me, like he would die without another taste. His powerful body shuddered against me, and he sucked my tongue into his mouth in a desperate plea I answered by memorising the contours of his mouth, crushing my lips into his between rough, impassioned strokes.

"Oh, god," he cried, his dark-jean-clad hips driving into me, the friction and texture of it against my bare thighs making me kiss him harder. Tor gasped between each rough press of our lips, his thumb and forefinger catching my nipple and pinching until I arched up into him with an answering cry.

"This is madness," he groaned, his eyes especially dark when he tore away from my mouth only to kiss my jaw, my throat, the hollow at the base of my neck. "This is addiction. This is everything."

"Tor," I gasped when he returned to my mouth, taking control of me until I was arching up into him, greedy for more pleasure. He indulged my desperate need, but a glimmer of bright, out-of-place colour caught my eye and I dragged my lips away.

There was a lime-green tulip sitting on my desk, beside a plate full of fruit and pastries. My heart melted. "You brought me a tulip…?"

He kissed my cheek. "Not me. Death."

I startled, giving Tor a wide-eyed look. "Death was here?"

"He was," he confirmed with a kiss to my opposite cheek. "He's every bit as in love with you as I am."

"Love," I echoed, laughing a little hysterically. "You've known me a day, Tor."

"More than long enough to know you have my heart," he agreed, scattering a bridge of kisses across my nose. "And I'm sorry I didn't bring you a beautiful flower, but I did bring a better gift."

Cold rushed into my body as he climbed off me, my skin pulsing where he'd left kisses and touches. He approached the desk, where his gift had been laid flat beside the rose, and—I startled, sitting up in a rush when he came at me with a knife.

"Here, my cute little succulent."

Oh. He wasn't going to stab me, especially after he just made me come. I felt stupid for the initial panic and accepted the dagger he held out, flushing with warmth.

"I realised you don't have a weapon," he explained, "and that was an issue that needed to be immediately rectified. I carved a little succulent on the handle, see."

I turned the knife over and saw the crude drawing of a cactus on the polished wood handle. It was the most violent present I'd ever been given, but my heart went soft regardless. It had taken time and care to carve the cactus, and even though I didn't appreciate the reminder of the world's most embarrassing name, it was sweet. Really fucking sweet.

"Thank you," I breathed, running my thumb over the carving. "I love it."

His brown eyes lit up and he leaned over me, careless of the knife, to kiss me. "Keep it on you at all times."

"I will," I agreed, relieved to have something to defend myself with if Nightmare threatened me again. I sighed, pushing the thought away.

"What's wrong?"

"Nightmare. She's going to find me. If you're right that cursing us is part of her plan for power, she's going to hunt me again. She would have caught me if you hadn't found me yesterday."

Tor's upper lip peeled back, a low, threatening noise revving his chest. "She won't get anywhere near you. You are mine, not hers. I'll beat her head into a shattered pulp if she even looks at you."

"That's… a vivid picture," I murmured. But having two death gods on my side—the jury was still out on Miz—gave me a level of comfort and reassurance I didn't have yesterday. "Thank you. I appreciate you protecting me."

"Always," he swore, gently taking the knife from me to set it on the bedside table.

My eyes widened when he laid me back against the cushions and glided down my body.

"What?" he asked, demur and wicked all at once. Those light brown eyes were glittering with mischief again. "Did you think I was finished with a single orgasm?" He scoffed. "My wife deserves more than one."