Between Brothers Read Online Stasia Black

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal, Suspense Tags Authors: Stasia Black Advertisement1

Advertisement2

Wasn’t that what adventure was supposed to be?

Not always lollipops and yellow brick roads.

Sometimes, there were dark and dangerous woods. Always scintillating to read about but maybe a little more terrifying to live.

Had there been some terrifying moments today? Hell, yes. Being flown up into the sky without the comforting walls of an airplane at a speed no human should ever experience, magic blue light or not— Yes, that was fucking terrifying. Getting back to this castle and realizing just how big he was, that I was alone and had allowed myself to be whisked off to a secondary location. . . Terrifying.

But then Remus had been kind.

Arrogant, out of touch, blood-thirsty and maybe a teeeeeetch sociopathic, but also oddly gentle and considerate.

And way too sexy for either of our good.

He looked at me in a way Michael sure as hell never had.

I have a suspicion that if Remus and I ever. . . well, I think it would involve more than just a couple of pumps. What would it be like to be with a man who could stay hard? Because I have a feeling the arrogant god could.

I slap my hands over my eyes. Dear God, why do you do this to me?

Now I can’t get the thought of Remus out of my head. And what Remus might be like. . . down there. He has a tail and wings. But the rest of him is so human-looking.

Then again, there is another face on the other side of his head. Like a whole other. . . person? He called him brother.

I furrow my brows in thought. Does that mean there are. . . two down there too?

I shake my head and realize, yup, I’m officially feeling all that wine. At the same time, my hand creeps down my stomach, and I realize I also don’t care. It’s just me, myself, and I here in this room, along with my fantasies of the firm body that was inches away from me earlier while he whispered filthy things into my ear.

My fingers slip beneath the waistband of my jeans.

And further still.

My questing fingers find my curls and hesitate. Am I really going to—

But then I remember the low rumble of his voice. I want you trembling and aching and begging me for more.

A gasp escapes my throat as my middle finger finds my swelling clit. God, I’m already wet just thinking about him. Just remembering. A shudder goes through my body as I start to move my finger.

He said he hasn’t had much experience with humans. Would he know how to be gentle with my body?

But then, he didn’t push earlier when plenty of regular guys would have. And he promised never to hurt me. Plus, this is just the safety of my fantasies.

So I allow myself the space to imagine him gripping my ample ass just like he promised. Really relishing in just how much junk I’ve got in my trunk. Tracing his hands around my hips, squeezing me as he went.

Michael occasionally gave lip service to “not minding” that I was a bigger girl.

But the way Remus looks at me. . . Like I’m exactly the type of woman he prefers. I remember that beauty standards throughout the ages have been very different from our twenty-first-century ones. The appreciation and lust burning in his eyes when I left him felt so real, so palpable—

I twist onto my side on the bed, curling around my hand that’s more urgent against my clit now.

He’s strong, too. He could handle a body like mine.

Would his fingers know how to get me worked up like this? Would he be curious about how to get me wet? Are his words just empty promises, or would he put me on the bed, spread my thighs wide, and kiss down my big, soft stomach, exploring me with that wicked tongue of his?

A pleasured squeak comes from my throat at the mental image, and I bury my face in the pillow. I feel my orgasm coming far faster than when I usually touch myself. Then again, I don’t typically have such striking, immediate inspiration.

I imagine Remus somewhere in the castle right now and wonder if he’s thinking of me. I imagine him in his bed right now. Is he nearby?

Is he. . . touching himself, too?

I bite the pillow, and my fingers slip down further toward the opening of my pussy. I imagine his huge body lifting over mine. Feeling his hardness against my flushed, wet flesh that’s so, so ready for him.

Is he imagining the same thing while he clutches his hand mercilessly around himself, heart-thumping as he milks himself to the thought of thrusting inside me?

“Remus,” I whisper-moan into the pillow and finger-fuck myself until I come.

I’m breathing so hard afterward, so awash with pleasure, I think I’ll never fall asleep. But after the wild release, barely pulling my fingers out of myself to rearrange the pillow, I’m out within minutes.


Advertisement3

Advertisement4