Goddess of Pain - Katie May Page 0,101

yet another mind-blowing orgasm.

When Helio pulls his now limp cock from my channel, I’m limp and satiated, but I know I can’t go back to sleep. Not yet. There are still two other men who were worried sick about me.

I crawl on my hands and knees towards Avery, who watches me through slitted eyes. The lust emanating from his gaze nearly takes my breath away.

“Hi,” I whisper, smiling softly at my best friend.

“Hi.” His answering smile reveals two twin dimples on his cheeks.

I know there’s still a lot I need to discuss with Avery, the most important being the people he killed throughout the years. Or more accurately, the people he didn’t kill. Obviously, all of those deaths were fake memories implanted in both of our minds, but I have no doubt Avery was behind the death of my perverted professor.

But there’s no denying that I love every twisted facet of Avery with every inch of darkness inside of me. He once referred to me as his light, but that’s not true. At least, not technically. I have more darkness and pain inside of me than any of my men would like to believe. I live and breathe it, but I’m also capable of surviving it. The darkness doesn’t scare me. Not anymore. What scares me is not having these five incredible men by my side every step of the way.

“Can you handle one more?” Tate noisily clears his throat behind us, and Avery amends, “Two more?”

“Fuck, yes,” I breathe as Avery sheathes himself inside of me. I grip his shoulders tightly as he pounds into me, our eyes connected and sparks charging the air. We don’t speak, the only sounds are our heavy breathing, but when Avery comes, it’s with a roar that shakes the very foundations of the apartment complex. I can feel his shadows of death curling around my arms and legs, their touch resembling a tentative caress, before he reels them back in.

“My turn, asshole,” Tate growls as Avery reluctantly pulls out of me. I turn towards my God of Deception with a sly smirk.

“Play nice, Tatey,” I jest as he pushes my back to the bed and wraps his hand around my throat.

“I always play nice.”

This time around, his hand doesn’t apply enough pressure to actually hurt, but it’s a reminding presence of who exactly is in charge. And fuck if my pussy isn’t here for that.

I allow my fingers to travel through his dark chest hair before—

“Is that a D shaved onto your chest?” I query, squinting at the minuscule D just beneath his right nipple. I swear, Tate’s eye fucking twitches.

Behind us, Desmond roars with laughter and the rest of the guys join in.

“Don’t worry.” Tate’s smile is the thing nightmares are made of. He lowers his head so that his lips are adjacent to my ear. “I’ll just shave off all of his hair tonight.”

Before I can protest that I rather like Desmond’s silky hair, Tate pounds into me, and all coherent thoughts are lost. It’s brutal and desperate and savage, everything I have come to expect from my gruff, domineering lover. But when he stares into my eyes, his hand still wrapped around my throat, I feel treasured and loved. He stares at me as if I’m the only thing that exists in the universe. As if I’m the sun that rises every morning and the moon that speckles the night sky in brilliant gold light. Despite his abrasive nature, I know that Tate loves me. He can be a complete and utter ass, and I’ll always call him out on it, but it only makes me love him more.

And as I orgasm once more, my body pulsing and shaking with adrenaline, I realize that I need all of these men. Their love and their guidance. Their friendship and their jokes. Without them, I’m just…pain.

I don’t know what the future will hold, but with my gods by my side, I know I can conquer anything.

Epilogue

Five Years Later

“Gemma! We have to go!” I call down the hallway as I grab my purse from the breakfast table. “Gemma!”

“Sorry!” I hear the distinct patter of tiny footsteps a moment before Gemma races around the corner. Her silky black hair, the exact shade of mine, parts directly down the middle of her head in loose curls. Her sea-blue eyes are framed by thick, sooty lashes that somehow make her five-year-old face appear older and more mature. There’s no denying that Gemma will grow up to