Читать книгу Medusa's Folly - Alison Paige - Страница 4

Love at first sight. It was the only way Medusa could ever know the elusive emotion. She never had. She never wanted to.

“Unhand me, you beast,” she said, her tone acidic.

“It’s not my hand that holds you, m’lady.”

Medusa tried hard not to squirm with the feel of his penis quickly swelling inside her, filling her up to bursting. The wicked impertinence. He’d take her again. She’d see that he paid dearly for his brazenness—never mind how glorious it felt.

Did he not know who she was? What deadly, stone-cold power she wielded? She’d turn him to—

“Why aren’t you stone?”

“Give me a minute, goddess, it’s getting there.”

Oh, that wicked joker’s grin on his beastly face incensed her last nerve. “Not your penis, you dolt. All of you. Why have you not turned to stone?”

He shrugged, an easy roll of his massive shoulders that made his black wings bob behind him. “Perhaps I’m already stone and it’s only the sweet nectar of your pussy that keeps me flesh. I was made of flesh once. Long ago.”

“Clearly you’ve mistaken me for someone who cares,” she said, noting the stone-gray color of his skin. “If it’s my pussy that keeps you flesh then the lack of it should return you to form.”

She raised a leg, the shift of muscles over his cock sending a warm tremble through her sex, and wedged her foot against his hard belly. With her hands on his chest and her foot on his stomach, she pushed, using all her goddess strength to unsheathe his sex from hers.

The gargoyle stumbled back, his stiff erection wagging from his body, wet and shiny with her pussy’s cream. Medusa fell the few feet to the floor from where he’d held her, landing with the grace of a goddess. She straightened, resisting the urge to snag her tunic from where she’d dropped it when his lust-filled gaze raked over her.

Let him look. Precious few before him had ever enjoyed the privilege. They were solid stone before they could even take in the full beauty of her face. Again she wondered, why wasn’t he?

“Who are you, gargoyle? Who made you? Who placed you on this castle?”

“To begin with, I am not a gargoyle,” he said, and his voice resonated through her body. It was truly the voice of a beast. The sound was too deep, too filled with power. It was as though his words echoed from within the massive frame of the monster, just as it echoed through her head, through her body, vibrating through all the sensitive parts of her feminine flesh.