Even the hidden warlocks hardened under their thick, black robes. They were part human after all.
“Oh you goddesses were many things, but this I miss the most.” Sparks of hot pleasure surged through Kroll.
As he rocked his hips into his hand, his skin shimmered with many colors—lush greens that made the leaves jealous, blushing pinks brighter than any flower, vibrant blues, and on and on at a fast, zipping pace until the god rocked his hips in a fast rhythm and bellowed loud in ecstasy.
“Yes. I miss those tight wet holes! Oh, how I miss them so!”
All who lived within or near the forest knew what would come next. Animals hid inside tree trunks and soil. Winged ones escaped to the sky.
The warlocks covered their head with hoods.
“Yes! That’s what I want!”
Hot white liquid gushed out of Kroll's tip and sprayed the center of the forest.
“Oh, I'll cover you all.” He bucked his hips. “I'll teach you not to tease me. I’ll paint every last one of you!”
His seed rained down on the forest as he grunted. His body color returned to pale while that hardened flesh trembled like the ground in the midst of an earthquake.
The god’s sperm lay everywhere.
Gazing at my computer, I sat back in my seat with my mouth wide open and panties soaked. “I’ve lost my mind! I can’t give this to my publisher!”
“Oh Carmen.” Adrian stroked himself. “I dreamed you would feel this good.”
I saved the manuscript, closed the computer, and shook my head over and over as if I’d been stuck in some bad dream.
“Damn you, Adrian.” I buried my face into my hands. “Okay. I just have to get a grip. I’ll put this down for now and look it over. Maybe there is something I can keep. God, what the hell could I keep from that?”
I just wish you would get out of my head.
Chapter 4
Hallway Stalker
Adrian
I knocked on her bedroom door.
“That better not be you, Adrian,” she called out. “If it is you, I’m going to recommend that you walk away.”
My closed fist remained near the door. I almost knocked again. Instead, I did as she said and rushed away.
She’s pissed. I get it.
After all, she found me in my weakest state—my pants down, cock out, and my mind on her.
Those damn shorts should be burned. Too bad I can’t just blame it all on the shorts.
A woman’s garments could do naughty things to a female form and drive men to madness. Yet, those shorts on her body needed to be addressed to the authorities.
I stared at them as they lay in my hand. I’d planned on giving them back to her, even had one of the staff wash and dry them.
Now you’ll never talk to me again.
Carmen remained in her bedroom all afternoon. I’d taken the day off from work. It wasn’t like they needed me there anyway. Plus, Dad held the fort for now—an old man grasping at the corporate strings and hoping he was still relevant in business.
I wonder if you were surprised at how much I crave you.
Standing in the hallway a few feet from her door, I lifted those shorts to my face and breathed her natural fragrance into my nostrils. Even with a good washing, her rose scent radiated from the material. That’s all I did for the rest of the day—smelled her shorts and listened to her writing.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Groan. Annoyed sigh. Tap. Tap. Tap.
What is she writing? Why does she sound so annoyed?
Tap. Tap. Groan. Tap. Sigh. Tap.
Those were the only sounds that flowed from her space to mine, all afternoon. My dick grew hard, and I craved those hard working fingers on me.
Tap. Tap.
She was mad at me today. I could tell from the violence in her pressing on those keys. But she was writing, which meant that she might be turned on. She’d confessed that to me one night when we sipped wine.
“You’ve written a lot of books. How many again?” I’d asked.
“You know the answer since you’ve read them all.” She laughed. “Ten.”
“Yes, ten.” I poured her more wine.
“What’s even crazier is that sometimes I can only write when I’m horny.”
“That’s odd.” I quirked my eyebrows, unsure of how to proceed. She may have been tipsier than I thought. Usually, she never brought up sex while we talked. “Most of your books are fantasy. Wizards and sorcerers. How do you get all of that horniness out of you from just writing?”
“I don’t write about sex. I just write to relieve my need to have sex.”
“Wow.”
“What?”
“You only write a lot when you’re horny?”
“Pretty much.”
“Wow.”
She giggled. “What?”
“You’ve done nothing but write since you’ve moved into the mansion.” I targeted her with my heated gaze. “Has my dad not been taking care of you?”
“None of your business.” She brought the glass to her lips and looked away. “So how has work been for you this week?”