Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
He holds my legs apart, splaying me lewdly. In the fuss and furor of his lust, his own clothing has suffered the same fate as mine. He is magnificent. He is broad shouldered and he is powerfully muscled. I am not a small woman, but he makes me feel diminutive in his presence. I am beneath him, in every sense. I am waiting to be claimed, because that is what I am in his eyes, a thing to be conquered. A soul to be owned.
I don’t fight him because I don’t want to. I’ve wanted this from the first moment we met. I think this was inevitable somehow.
He is inside me, thrusting deep, spreading me wide. His thunder god cock makes every bit of me spark. I give myself up to him completely, knowing he is angry with me. Furious, actually. this isn’t a hate fuck. It is a fury fuck. My pussy is being roughly punished by a literal god and I know I deserve every stretching, aching stroke.
“You belong to me,” he snarls, his hand clasping my jaw, keeping my eyes on him. His cock is as deep inside me as it can go, stretching me to my very limit. I can feel my pussy clenching him with desperate need, trying to milk his seed into my cunt. I’m such a filthy little slut when it comes to him.
“Do you understand? You physically belong to me. I own you. You no longer exist for yourself. You breathe for me.”
His possessiveness is more intense than anything I have ever encountered. I am more than wanted. More than desired. This doesn't end when he’s finished. This goes beyond the length of his dick. I am claimed. I am his.
My orgasm rushes through me with the force of a tidal wave, rushing though my every nerve and thought. I feel like I’m being erased in some fundamental way, every bit of me that’s not screwed to my fucking soul is gone.
I feel like I need a cigarette, but I don't smoke. The sex was just that intense, the kind of mating that makes a girl ache in all the best ways.
“I can't believe I fucked the ancient god of…”
Thor sighs. “I’m not the ancient god.”
“You’re going to keep telling me that after everything I’ve seen?”
“I’m not. Let me explain, as best I can. It will be overly simple because it is too complex to explain in detail. I’m not the Thor. But I carry a part of him inside me. A shard of the divine is lodged in me. If it is ever removed, I will pass away instantly. I am alive by his grace, standing guardian over his tool. I am the only one who can handle it or understand its power.’
“Well, I don’t have any shards and it worked for me, so maybe it’s been upgraded?”
He gives me a flinty look.
“We are talking about the sacred weapon of a power beyond understanding, not the latest smartphone. I do not know why the hammer chose to work for you. It may be that you have some qualities yet to be discovered. A human taken to Hell is not allowed to simply leave. The fact that you were allowed free passage both in and out is as concerning as it is astonishing. I know who you are. But I do not know what you are.”
I don’t know what I am, either, but I don't mind. He might think I have some special talent or hidden secret, but I know better. I am as average as they come. I am just in the presence of someone extraordinary, and that makes me extraordinary too.
“It's like a riddle. What can use the hammer of the old gods and pass through Hell unharmed? Me!”
“What can turn a temporary immortal gray? Also you,” he groans. “Anita. You must not be so reckless. I can cage you, but inevitably you will have to be free. When you are, I have to be able to trust you not to do anything so mad you require a demon to save you.”
“I can't promise anything. Because I don’t want to be a liar. I don't know what I’m going to do half the time before I do it.”
“You need to develop self-control.”
“Probably. Easier said than done.”
“I’ll help you. You just need discipline.”
I need more than discipline. I don’t think he understands how impulsive I am, and how impossible those impulses are for me to control. I stole his hammer on a whim.
Now I’m wondering if I’m not just a very good little puppet who dances on the strings that make us all jump about very well. I don’t fight anything. I do what makes sense at the time. Sometimes not even what makes sense. Sometimes I just do what I’m doing.