Issue # 38-A Shattered Clasp

A Shattered Clasp


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Mikel`s decision to open the gate and enter the forbidden lower realms was not an easy one for many reasons. One being that once the Echelon discovered he had done so his ass would be grass as his cousin was known to say. Another reason, and one he dreads even more than his superior`s displeasure, was informing the witchling that waited in his bed chamber.

“Amazing,” he mutters as he lingers outside his chamber door,” how you tarry to tell such a wee female yet you would spit in the Echelons face with ease. I fear for your masculinity Rayvenwing.”

His hand finds the latch and turns it slowly and he enters drawn to his full height, intent on saying what needed said and getting on with this suicide mission.

“Mikel?” she asks from behind the dark curtains surrounding his bed.

“Yes witchlet,” he responds pushing the heavy portal closed behind him.

“Thank the goddess,” he hears her whisper. Something in her tone escalates his heart rate as he crosses in front of the leaping fireplace.”I`m on fire Mikel, please ease me.”

Mikel draws in a calming breath before tugging the curtains aside. He knew what plagued her, her exposure to Gallo had laid spark to tinder, yet he had little time to….the sight of her splayed across his massive mattress writhing in need triples his cardiac pace. Ephra was bare as the day she was born, her long gold hair spread across his pillows, her body flushed with growing desire, her slim hand between her clamped legs.

“Please Mikel,” she pleads rising her hips upward to entice the male she wants. He grips the material tightly in an attempt to keep his mind on his duty.

“Ephra, I know the need is strong but there is something I have to tell you witchling.”

“Tell me later Mikel,” she pants running her pink tongue over her lips.”Pleasure me now.”

His fingers push his hair from his face as he exhales, his right hand was so fiercely balled in soft thick curtain a thin silver ring pops open on the rod over head. Gallo waited below. He knows this and nearly has his next sentence formed when she rolls over to crawl to him at the edge of the raised platform.

“I want you Mikel,” Ephra whispers up to him.

Her fingers dance lightly over his leather vest downward, downward, until he sucks in a sharp breath when she finds what she seeks. His explanations for his need to leave immediately evaporate like the smoke from the sweet birch logs in the hearth when her mouth drops a wet kiss to his manhood through the leather of his pants. He shudders to watch her tongue tracing the length of him yet not touching his turgid flesh. Long lashes lift upward as her delicate mouth moves over him, another silver ring snaps in two and she purrs wickedly as the two halves clatter to the floor.