Creation Mage 6 by Dante King (detective books to read txt) 📕

wall of the tent, pounding into her with a savagery that she clearly delighted in. The springy tent wall only served to force the Chaos Mage back into me, doubling the force of my thrusts. Her long, pink hair, free of its bindings and wet with bathwater, slapped into my face as she lunged in to kiss my neck and face like a striking cobra. Her nails dug into my back as I spun her around. We knocked a hanging mirror and a matching hanging shelf full of agricultural knick-knacks, packets of gum, and magazines that looked ancient and highly pornographic off the wall.

“Fuck, yes!” Leah grunted, her lips mashed against mine. “That’s it. Don’t fuck me like a man. Fuck me like an animal! We’re in the woods, there are no rules here! Not on this ranch!”

We teetered around on the spot and fell over an innocent footstool, smashing the legs off it. With the impact, a surge of animal satisfaction passed through me, vibrating through every cell of me.

Chaos! Everything was possible. There were no limits except the ones that we imposed on ourselves.

I could feel that chaotic influence coming from Leah. It emanated from her crotch, mingling with her juices coating my hips and cock and balls.

It was far from an unpleasant feeling. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and the skin along Leah’s buttocks and legs turned to gooseflesh under my palms. I sensed, rather than saw, a halo of white fire surrounding the pair of us.

What made sex with this woman so electric, so fraught with dangerous possibility, was that somewhere behind our human emotions and human needs, lurked sexual deviance begging to be let through.

Leah and I smashed our way around the tent while Enwyn lay exhausted and content on the pile of rugs and mats and watched us, her fingers toying casually with her own nipples or, occasionally, her pussy.

Eventually, I put Leah down a sideboard and pounded into her with a single-minded intensity that can only lead to one outcome. The pink-haired mage’s hands were behind her head, pressed flat against the tent wall. Her eyes screwed shut in rapture as we fucked, her fingers digging into the canvas of the tent and threatening to tear through into the night beyond.

When my pumping pace had reached an unsustainable velocity, Leah arched her back, clawed desperately at my face and shoulders, and took a deep breath.

“Yes!” she screamed and, at the exact same moment as her, I came. There was a dull rip as the heavy leather seams holding the panels of the tent together broke, letting in a pleasant burst of fresh night air.

Both of us, it goes without saying, were too far gone to care about that.

Reeling on suddenly rubbery legs, I carried Leah to the bed and flung her down. With an exhausted sounding laugh, she rolled around and giggled. “Oh, that was nice. A lovely lullaby with which to be rocked. Yummy, yummy, yummy.”

Enwyn crawled up from the nest of blankets and onto the bed.

Breathing hard, I flopped down between the two women. The meat in the babe sandwich.

Enwyn and I lay back panting and grinning up at the canvas roof. Leah, still sitting up and looking into the fire with her back arched, slowly relaxed. The muscles across her back and shoulders visibly loosened, and she let out a long, shuddering breath which ended in a low contented giggle.

I ran my eyes over Leah’s back, taking in the numerous battle scars that had so surprised me when she had twisted around in my lap and rode me in reverse cowgirl fashion. A little rivulet of sweat meandered its way past what was either a small sword cut or a large claw mark.

Most of the small, puckered shrapnel scars were hidden now by her long pink hair. I had to admit that I preferred it down like that, but figured having it tied up in schoolgirl-like bunches was an effective and simple misdirection. It helped create a thin veneer of innocence for a woman who was about as innocent as a man going for a nocturnal stroll through a mansion dressed in a striped sweater and a mask and carrying a sack with a dollar sign on it.

I laid a hand upon Leah’s petite, slender shoulder and pulled her back onto the bed to lie on my left side. On my right side, Enwyn was already breathing deeply. Her tits were pushed up against me, one shapely naked leg lying on top of the furs, her raven hair splayed across her pillow.

Leah settled in beside me, pulled a particularly fluffy white fur over her, and snapped her fingers. One of her trademark black cigarettes appeared between her fingers, and she lit it with a wink.

“Some magic,” I murmured. “You make it look so damned easy to use. You’re not a Fire Mage, but yet you can do shit like that. How?”

Leah took a drag on her smoke, and the tip crackled and spat salmon-colored sparks. She exhaled a plume of clove-scented smoke from her nostrils and watched as it languidly twined itself into something that might have been Celtic knot.

“How do you breathe?” she countered.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“It means, explain to me how you breathe, right this instant, how you know how to breathe, how you know how to do it, you little sugar snap pea,” Leah said.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

“That’s how I know how to do these little handy spells, you see,” Leah said. “I can’t explain. I don’t really care to know. Life is sweeter with a bit of mystery running through it, don’t you think?”

“Life would be dull if everything was explainable,” I conceded.

“Right.” Leah blew another stream of smoke up toward the tent ceiling.

I noticed