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God of Fury – Chapter 13


I can taste the flames of hesitation and the warring conflict rolling off my lotus flower in waves, and I want to dart my tongue out and consume it.

Suck it between my lips.

Crunch it beneath my teeth.

Bran’s back muscles stiffen underneath my chest like whenever he’s trying to fight, escape, or reject whatever lurks in his scornful head. I’ve given up trying to understand how his mind works, give him space, or be logical about these emotions sweeping me away.

suck at that.

My modus operandi has always been to act first and think of consequences later. There’s no reason why that should change now.

Besides, he obviously wants me. I can see it in his mystic eyes that often conceal his feelings, but when the mask drops, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in that coral blue, surrounded by a halo of lust.

Sure, there’s also hate and disregard as well. There’s confusion and self-preservation. But who gives a fuck about those irrelevant emotions?

Certainly not me.

Tension rolls and crackles whenever we’re in the same space. It doesn’t matter whether it’s in public or in the confinement of my bedroom. If he’s here, I’m soaring and riding on the high of his presence.

The beast in me wants to drag out the hidden beast in him and play.

I want to shatter his control, wreak havoc on his golden-boy image, and disrupt his life.

I want to sink my teeth into his skin and feed on the lust that radiates from his unsaid words.

Until I drain him.

Until there’s nothing left of him. Or me.

I inch even closer so that I’m covering him entirely and my raging erection presses against his firm ass.

Needless to say, I’ve been as hard as a rock since he shoved Clara away from me. I like to think he didn’t want her to touch me, not the other way around.

Because he told her to leave and he didn’t follow.

Call me delusional, but I choose to believe the calm anger he displayed was due to being possessive of me.

He squirms, his ass brushing accidentally—or not so accidentally—against my cock and I groan.


Why the fuck is mere contact turning me into an animal? The thought of claiming him ticks in my brain like a bomb, drowning any trace of other thoughts. Not that I have many of those when he’s around, but still.

He inches closer to the door as if he can escape me. Not possible in this lifetime and any future ones, if I have a say in it.

“Don’t touch me,” he orders, but his voice carries nothing of the usual haughtiness he breathes instead of air.

“But I love touching you, my Prince Charming.”

“I don’t give a fuck about what you love, and I’m not your Prince Charming.” He swings around, the sheer mass of his body lunging forward, eyes blazing with a fire so fucking wild, I want to fan it, turn it as bright as an inferno.

He tries to push against me, but I slam my hands against the door on either side of his head, my chest shoving his. I’m so close, I can smell the alcohol on his breath and see that fire burning in his eyes.


I smirk, staring down at his puffed-out lips. “Someone is mad.”

“Fuck you.”

“Baby, you know I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

He grabs me by the throat, fingers digging ruthlessly into the sides. “You need to stay the hell away from me.”

“No.” I try to step closer and he tightens his grip until I can barely breathe. My lungs burn, and I can feel the veins in my neck bulging.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Mmm. Love it when you get rough.”

“You think I’m joking?” His short nails sink into my skin. “Touch me and I’ll choke you to death.”

“Tell me more. Your mouth makes me so fucking hard.” I roll my hips and slam them against his groin.

And fuck.

Fuck me.

“Looks like I make you hard, too. If I reach inside your pants, will I find you leaking for me?”

“You fucking—” His face flushes a subtle shade of red and his fingers compress so hard, they shake.

He’s shaking, my Prince Charming, losing his precious control one layer at a time.

And what do I do?

Trap him between my teeth and never let go. Of course.

I’m getting under his skin. The first step of being inside him.

“You can fight me, can choke the life out of me, but that won’t stop you from wanting me,” I strain and wrap my hand around his throat, on the hickey he’s hiding as if his life depends on it. “You came here to stop me from fucking Clara. You weren’t mad for her, you were mad at her. You didn’t like the way she touched me and called me babe, right?”

“Shut your mouth.”

“You’re pissed off at me because I let her touch me?”

That beautiful rage shines bright behind his eyes, but then he says the exact opposite of what he thinks, “Why would I care what you do?”

“Always playing a role, my lotus flower. Hiding, pretending. You obviously broke up with her tonight. Why didn’t you tell me that?”


“She told me she was going through a breakup and was looking to forget at the pub.” I try to get my head closer, but he keeps me in place with his unyielding hold. “You did it for me, didn’t you? You lost her because I told you to. No. You did it because you wanted to be with me. Because you know I’m the only one who can give you what you need.”

“Stop dreaming.”

“Stop fucking pretending.” I remove the Band-Aid at his throat, revealing the purple hickey. “Stop hiding.”

He shakes his head, but his fingers loosen around my throat. Bran isn’t weak. Sure, I have more muscles, but he has strength. The reason he let me touch him the previous times isn’t because he couldn’t stop me. It’s because he chose not to stop me.

Like right now.

His war for control breaks like ice beneath his feet.

I’m the lake waiting to swallow him fucking whole.

My fingers spread on his sharp jaw, my lips an inch from his, breathing notes of alcohol and mint off his fractured exhales.

“Don’t you dare…” he whispers and it’s shaky, breathless.

The asshole clearly wants me, he’s burning for it. His body language gives him away. Eyes darkening, nostrils flaring, and fingers holding my neck so lovingly—though he’d argue otherwise—and his huge dick is performing a standing ovation for me.

But he’s still fighting tooth and nail, still refusing to admit the inevitable.

“Want to blame me again?” I murmur against his skin.

A puff of air leaves his mouth and he nods once.

“Then blame me all you want, baby.”

I slam my lips to his, taking what’s mine.

Because he is fucking mine.

It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t know it yet and would probably deny it till kingdom come. It doesn’t matter that he’s a fucking asshole.

He’s my asshole. Literally.

Bran opens with a groan, his hot, wet tongue clashing against mine as he moans. He moans like the most erotic fucking thing I’ve ever devoured.

He’s so pliant and passionate when my mouth speaks to his, so fucking wanton and responsive. His hips roll and he brushes his cock against mine as I kiss the living daylights out of him.

I nibble on his bottom lip the way he loves, then plunge my tongue back inside, seeking his greedy one, stroking, rubbing, and twirling.

His jaw flexes with every kiss, every nip, and every savage sound I release down his throat.

I love how his hand glides from my neck to my hair, fisting to keep me in place so he can shove his tongue against mine, searing me to him in ways so foreign and addicting.


I need more.

I jam my knee between his and wrap a leg around his thigh as I grind my cock against his rock-hard one.

The new position gives me better access, more friction, and he groans down my throat as he clenches his fingers in my hair, letting me know how much he likes that.

His cock thickens against mine as I stroke him up and down, rubbing, fondling us until tingles erupt in my spine.

I growl when he picks up on my pace and meets me stroke for stroke. He grunts, pants, and tugs at my hair. It’s the most beautiful pain I’ve ever felt.

How the fuck is he able to drive me crazy by just kissing?

My hands slide down his chest and he groans when I brush his nipple that protrudes from beneath the shirt, so I twist it. He bites on my tongue.

Fucking savage.

I hiss with a grin.

I love it when his beast collides with mine in a fucked-up symphony of violence.

So I slide my hands beneath his shirt, over the smooth planes of muscles, and it’s his turn to hiss when I pinch his nipples. The longer I torture, the more his dick thickens, and the faster he dry humps me, making me drip in my boxer briefs.

I’d love nothing more than to indulge in nipple play and drive him fucking insane, but there’s another part of him I’d rather play with.

Twisting one nipple, I let my other hand travel down and I unbutton his pants. He releases a small gasp when I unzip his fly over his bulge.

This Prince Charming is fucking packing.

I shove my hand inside his briefs and fist his cock at the base with a firm hand, then squeeze.

“Umph…fuck…” he breathes against my mouth, his eyes dazed, eyebrows drawn together, and face dripping with pure fucking desire.

No one should look this edible.

“You like it when I touch you roughly, baby? Do you feel how you thicken in my hand?” I pull him out and stroke him firmly from the base to the tip, teasing the foreskin with my thumb.

“Shut your mouth.” He does it for me, his lips devouring mine, and he kisses me with unbound lust, his hips jerking as he fucks my fist. “Fuck you…” He bites the corner of my lip and stretches the skin. “Fuck you…Nikolai… Why the fuck did you come into my life… Fuck…”

“I’m in your life because you’re fucking up mine, baby.” I lower myself to my knees in front of him.

His eyes widen as he stares down at me, his hand still lost in my hair. He removed the band at some point and is fisting it into a ponytail.

“What are you—” His words end with a groan when I slide his huge cock into my mouth, relaxing my jaw and steering him as far back as possible.

God-fucking-damn-it. He tastes so good.

“Ffuuck…” He releases a long curse, throwing his head too far back, it bangs against the door. His eyes shutter closed and he wraps his free hand around my nape, fingers digging into my skin.

“Mmm,” I mumble around his cock, rubbing it against the back of my throat, then sliding it all the way out to swirl his foreskin. I push it back to fuck the tip with my tongue and lap against the opening. Precum explodes in my mouth and I drink it greedily, which makes him leak some more.

“Mffuckk…fuckkk…” he breathes out, his hips jerking in an irregular rhythm.

“Look at me,” I order.

Bran’s eyes flutter open the slightest bit, but he looks down at me, one hand brutalizing my hair, but the other strokes my nape. He’s a fucking riddle of opposites, my Prince Charming.

Hot and cold.

A storm in the summer.

A fucking beast in the form of a gentleman.

“That’s it, baby. Eyes on me as I choke on your cock.”

He grunts, the sound deep and masculine, and makes my own dick stand at painful attention.

My gaze locks on his as I slurp on his cock, licking, and making sloppy noises as I swallow him alive.

Then I pull his length inside until I gag on it. His lips part, breathing shallow and loud as he thrusts, demanding more of the friction.

Of me.

Keeping a hand at the base of his cock, I cup his balls, teasing at first, then I squeeze until he jerks, pounding harder into my mouth.

I can’t stop looking at his lust-filled face, at the way he watches me with both hate and wonder.

Lust and confusion.

That’s it, lotus flower, give me your emotions. Feed me your cracked control.

“Oh fuck… Oh fuck…” he repeats as a mantra, his thrusts turning crazed, and I let him take his pleasure, squeezing his balls and slurping on his length.

He uses his fist in my hair to shove me harder against him so he can fuck my mouth.

I reach beneath his shirt, spreading my palm on his hard abs, and latch onto his nipple, pulling and squeezing.

He hisses and groans. “I… I’m…coming, Niko…fuck… I’m coming…”

His thrusts turn animalistic as he drives into my mouth with urgency. I scrape my blunt nails against his nipple and squeeze my throat around his tip.

That sends him over the edge.

Bran releases a long grunt that reverberates over my skin as his cum explodes on my tongue and down my throat. The salty taste of him lingers in my mouth and forms a mess on my lips.

I continue sucking him and swallowing every drop, even as his dick depletes and he thrusts his hips a few more times, riding his orgasm.

After a while, he blinks twice, eyes wide open as he reluctantly removes his hands. “I…fuck. I’m sorry I made a mess.”

Such a gentleman, my Prince Charming. Only he would apologize for that hot-as-fuck show.

I release his cock with a pop and can’t resist teasing the hidden opening with my tongue before I stand up and grab his jaw. “I’m not sorry. I will definitely make a mess out of you as well.”

My lips press against his and he doesn’t hesitate. Not even for a fraction of a second as he lets me kiss him. He doesn’t hesitate as he strokes my tongue with his, tasting himself off my mouth.

His arms wrap around my back, a palm riding up to my head as he strokes my hair, slowly, sensually, as if he’s making up for how he pulled at it just moments ago.

Bran doesn’t look like it, but he’s a passionate kisser. He goes deep and furious. Sometimes deep and slow, like now, nibbling and stroking, touching and exploring, as if he wants to take his time getting to know every nook of my body and mouth.

When I pull away, he releases a protesting sound that I’m not sure he’s even aware of.

I suppress a smile as I grab him by the hand and drag him toward the bed. “Your turn to choke on my cock, baby.”


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