Excessica Anthology BOX SET Winter (117 page)

He
let go of her throat, her body fell to the floor, like a rag doll. Alex started
to turn after closing his palm.

Reggie
flicked his wrist, vanishing then reappearing on the other side of Alex. Johnny
moved closer to Alex trying to box him in so they could anticipate his move.
Alex raised his hand, opened his palm to shoot energy at Alex. Johnny raised
his right hand, an ancient silver sword appeared, glistening with gems.

Alex
turned his head, noticed the sword, and turned his hand to send the energy to
Johnny. Johnny raised his hand with the sword. A burst of energy flew out of
Alex’s palm into Johnny’s chest.

Johnny
dropped the sword, fell to the ground. Unconscious.

As
Alex was still facing Johnny’s limp body, not noticing Reggie.

Reggie
had the sword appear in his hand, raising his hand with the sword he delved it
into his throat. Slicing his head away from his body.

White
smoke rolled out of his palm, back into Claire’s limp body. Her eyes fluttered
opened.

Reggie
knelt beside her, lifting her up into his arms. “I’m so sorry this happened,
Claire. Stay with me, I promise nothing will ever happen to you again.”

Holding
onto his neck, she kissed him, nodding.

Placing
her on her feet, Reggie knelt to check Johnny. He placed his hand over his
heart. “Johnny is gone, the energy was too strong for him to withstand.”
Flicking his wrist ,Johnny’s body disappeared.

Reggie
turned, picked up Claire. They disappeared out of Hades, back to his home.

“Claire,
I love you.”

“I
love you too, Reggie.”

About
Kiera Thomas

Kiera
Thomas set her writing career in motion in late 2009. Her writing is from her
vivid dreams and imagination. Kiera’s mind never stops thinking of different
scenarios, ideas and settings for another book. Galinn is her first book in a
soon to be series titled The Forbidden World.

Kiera
works part-time at an Indiana casino. She enjoys watching the people, listening
to their own life stories and taking in all the interesting stuff that happens
there. She is a mother of three, grandmother of one, and an owner of a mutt
that doesn’t realize she’s not human.

Remembering Ausar

By
Madeleine Drake

It
was a giant gold penis.

Phallus,
Elise corrected herself.
A giant gold phallus.
But calling it by its
Latin name didn't curb her desire to touch it. She clenched her hands into
fists to keep from reaching into the wooden crate and exploring the tracery of
raised veins that wound around the gleaming metal erection. It had to be nine
or ten inches long, and thick enough that she wouldn't be able to encircle it
with her fingers. The shaft had been lightly brushed, dulling the gold and
giving it a more realistic texture; the glans was polished to a mirror shine,
creating the illusion that a few drops of clear fluid had seeped out to coat
it. Two fat testicles rested at the base, so delicately wrinkled they could
almost be mistaken for the real thing. It had obviously been modeled on
someone's actual member.
I wonder whose.

And
how did he feel about having his cock immortalized for future generations?
 

Elise
checked the shipping manifest that had accompanied the rest of the Egyptian
exhibit. The thirteenth crate wasn't listed, and there was no mention of a
priceless, larger-than-life, older-than-the-pyramids penis. As far as the
paperwork went, her gold phallus didn't exist.

She
closed her eyes. Opened them.
Still there.
I'm not hallucinating.

Elise
drummed latex-covered fingers against the edge of the open crate. She'd rather
die than show it to the Curator. He'd raise one bushy grey eyebrow and purse
his thin, wrinkled lips and somehow it would be her fault that such an improper
artifact had appeared in his museum.

She
couldn't ask the Assistant Curator, either. Quiet, thoughtful, soft-spoken
Mark, with his dark, tousled hair and those wide brown eyes that seemed to see
everything—he was the most gorgeous creature Elise had ever encountered.
She could barely string a sentence together in his presence. Every time she
opened her mouth, she feared she was going to declare her undying lust for him.
When he entered the room, she stumbled, she stammered, she dropped something.
Thankfully, he seemed oblivious—or at least he never commented on her clumsiness.

But
presenting him with an oversized antique dildo was out of the question.

Elise
sighed and picked up the phallus. Cradled in her hands, it was solid, but not
nearly heavy enough to be real gold. She turned it over, looking for casting
marks, but it was perfect. The artist had clearly been a master. It gave every
appearance of being an actual penis transformed into gold.

I
wonder if Midas ever visited Egypt.

Elise
held the artifact under her desk lamp, searching for a scratch, a mark, a
hidden signature, anything that would identify the penis as a modern creation.
The back of the testicles was completely flat, as if they had been severed from
the pelvis with a clean stroke of the blade. Strangely, although the metal was
as unyielding as she'd expected, it wasn't as cold as it should have been, even
through the rubber gloves.
Holding it close to the light probably warmed it
up.

It
was larger than any penis she'd ever handled, but her hands reacted to the
familiar shape instinctively, one clasped around the base of the shaft, the
fingers of the other curled gently over the tip. Elise shuddered. She couldn't
help imagining what it would feel like inside her. The phallus seemed to
vibrate, sending out a subtle hum that penetrated her rubber gloves and set her
hand to tingling. She had a wild urge to lick the shining glans, to feel the
hard metal between her lips.
It's been way too long since I've had sex.

On
the other hand, a reasonable-sounding voice in her head argued, everyone was
gone except for the night guard. There were no surveillance cameras here in the
work room. Who would know?

The
hum from the artifact intensified. It started her bones thrumming, brought her
libido up to a slow boil.
Blushing, shifting from one foot to the other,
Elise closed her eyes and brushed the oversized penis against her lips. Her
skin shivered, going taut over muscles as the tiny hairs all over her body
rose. Her heart slammed against her sternum with new urgency, and heat flared
between her legs, pulsing and urgent. Every nerve in her body tingled. She
gasped.
Oh God, I'm having a heart attack.

No,
this feels too good to be a heart attack.

The
air around her went moist and smoky-sweet. Elise wrenched her eyes open. She
stood in the center of a windowless chamber with walls of gold. Huge braziers,
almost as tall as her, blazed in the four corners. She pivoted, surveying the
space. No door. Impossible. It had to be hidden. How could she have gotten in
here if there was no door?
I am crazy.

Or
I'm dreaming. I've been working so hard on my thesis, this is probably my
subconscious' way of telling me I need a break.

But
for once, it wasn't a bad dream. A massive wooden couch carved in the shape of
an elongated lion dominated the center of the room—it looked just like
the funeral bier of Osiris, engraved on the walls at the Dendera temple. A
naked man lay on the couch, tangled in creamy linen sheets. Tall, well-muscled,
and brown-skinned, with short, curly black hair. Dream Guy's features were
exotic: sculpted cheekbones, pointed chin, full lips. He looked familiar, but
she couldn't think why. The arousal she'd felt earlier came flooding back, with
knee-weakening intensity, as she imagined his large, blunt fingers gripping her
hips. She let her gaze wander over the planes of his chest, admiring the slope
of muscles under smooth skin and the elegant curve of his shoulders where they
met his neck. He didn't stir.

In
fact, Dream Guy didn't seem to be breathing.

Great.
I'm dreaming dead guys. Maybe it's going to be a bad dream after all.

Still
grasping the gilded phallus, she approached the couch. Its contours were carved
in swooping lines that granted the stylized lion the appearance of grace and
power. It had been painted in shades of white and gold and brown, same colors
as a real lion. It looked familiar and foreign at the same time. But even
knowing what she saw was the product of her subconscious, Elise was fascinated.
She reached out to touch a corner of the linen sheet hanging off the edge of
the bed.

What
happened to my gloves?

Never
mind my gloves. What happened to my clothes?

Dream
Guy opened his eyes.

She
yelped and jumped back, shifting her grip on the gold penis and brandishing it
like a club. 
 
 

Dream
Guy smiled and sat up. Thank goodness the sheet still covered his lap. Not that
the flimsy cloth stopped her from imagining what must be underneath.
Focus,
Elise. He could be dangerous.
But he didn't look dangerous, not even a
little bit. He looked sweet, sleepy, and totally fuckable.

"You
brought it back to me," he said.

"Um."
Elise realized she was waving the huge cock at him. Flushing with
embarrassment, she hid it behind her back. "Who are you?"

"You
wouldn't be here if you didn't know who I am."

"Humor
me."

His
smile widened, flashing white teeth. "I am the Lord of Abtu, Lord of Love,
father of Haru the Falcon, husband of Aset."

Not
possible.
She was familiar with the titles, but she'd never thought to hear
someone claim them. "Osiris."

"You
speak like a Greek." His nose wrinkled, but his eyes sparkled with
amusement. He was only pretending to be disgusted. "My people called me
Ausar."

"But
you look like…" Who? His expression was more arrogant and his nose was
straighter, but the hair, the eyes, the lips—especially the
lips—reminded her of Mark. "You're supposed to be green. With a
beard."

"I
appear as you wish me to."

Okay,
that proves I'm dreaming.
But now the dream made sense.
I'm stressed
about my thesis, and I'm in lust with Mark, and my subconscious is dumping all
my unresolved emotions into one messed-up dream.

Of
all the myths she'd been studying, though, why Osiris? His brother Set had
killed him and cut his corpse to pieces, scattering them in the swamp. His
mourning wife Isis had found all the pieces and put them back together again.
All the pieces except one. A fish had eaten it, and Isis fashioned a
replacement.

And
I'm hiding that replacement behind my back right now.

As
if in response to her thoughts, the god's disembodied phallus warmed in her
hand. Elise gulped and held it out to him. "Here. Take it."

"Gentle,
woman. Your hands are not as soft as your lips."

"You
can feel it? Even though it's not attached?"
Freaky.
"So when
I…when I kissed it…"

"As
you say." He nodded. "Now you will make me whole."

Make
him whole?

 
"Nuh-uh.
Take your…"
Cock.
"…phallus and send me home."

"Not
yet." He caught her hand in his, and drew her closer. He reminded her so
much of Mark. He touched her with tenderness, like she wanted Mark to touch
her. "You're like her, my Aset."

Ausar
lifted the sheet.
Crap.
Elise squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see
if her dreaming mind would show him mutilated, like the real Osiris had been.

He
guided her hand between his legs. The fine, dark hair on his thighs tickled her
knuckles. The metal between her fingers became warmer, velvety and soft, taking
on a different kind of hardness. All of a sudden, it felt like a real penis.
She let her fingers slide down to the base of the shaft. It was attached to him
now.
How was that possible?

A
wave of electric ecstasy sizzled up her arm and into her body. Something feral
woke low in her belly, and a ragged moan escaped her throat. She'd never felt
such unbearable excitement, filling her until it seemed like she was
overflowing her own body.

Ausar
kissed her, his movements slow and liquid at first, becoming more urgent as she
nipped his lower lip and sucked on his tongue. She wound her fingers around his
erection, now a column of living flesh. Shimmers of heat danced over her skin.

His
mouth found her nipples, tugged and licked until the ache in her flesh turned
fiery and consuming. His fingers plunged inside her, stroking and stretching
and teasing until her knees folded and she fell against him.

Ausar
lay back on the couch, pulling her down to straddle his thighs. "You
tasted me before."

She
tasted him again. Salty, musky, tinged with the sweet smoke permeating the
room—he was delicious. She swirled her tongue around the glans as her
hands stroked his shaft. He shuddered and murmured something incoherent,
watching her through narrowed eyes. The fierce beat of his blood pounded
between her lips. His hips strained, his stomach muscles clenched and
unclenched in violent rhythm that matched the movements of her hands.

Ausar
groaned and gave her hair a firm tug. "Enough."

Elise
trembled from head to toe as he positioned her over him and nudged the slick
head of his cock between her folds. Her breath hitched. From the first moment
she'd seen the golden phallus, a part of her had been fantasizing about what it
would feel like inside her. But now, anxiety whirled in the pit of her stomach.
He felt even thicker than he looked.
What if he's too big?

She
leaned forward, bracing her hands against the taut muscles of his chest,
widening her knees as he slid into her. She shifted, her inner muscles
stretching to make room for him, but the intense sensation never became pain.
She moaned with relief. He filled her perfectly.

Of
course his penis is perfect. It was designed by a goddess. A goddess who
obviously knew what she was doing.

His
cock jumped inside her. The hum it had given off earlier in her hand was back
again, more intense now, a delicious buzz that made every cell in her body
vibrate. It felt so good she could barely think.

"Oh
God." Oops. Was he offended that she'd invoked another deity in his
presence? "Sorry."

"Why
sorry?" He shifted beneath her, pushing deeper.

"Didn't
mean to call you…someone else's name."

He
laughed and reached for her breast, his thumb tweaking her already-swollen
nipple. He swept his fingers down the plain of her stomach and over her mound,
began to stroke her clit. "Do you like that?"

"Yes,
G—" She'd almost done it again. "Ausar."

"What
else do you like?"

The
image flashed in her mind, the fantasy she'd carried with her ever since she'd
met Mark. She banished it, but not before her face heated with embarrassment.
"This is good."

"But
something else would be better."

The
next thing she knew, she was face down on the white sheet, breasts flattened
against the couch, legs spread as wide as they would go, wrists pinned over her
head by one of his hands as he covered her with his body. He stopped short of
penetrating her, leaving the head of his cock pressed against her labia.
Breathless, Elise squirmed, trying to take him in.

"Even
in your dreams, you're afraid to ask for what you want?" He nipped her
shoulder, his breath hot against her skin. "Tell me."

"Please."
She wiggled her hips, but he shifted too, teasing her.

"Tell
me."

She
could barely make herself whisper the words. "Fuck me."

"As
you say." He thrust into her so fast it was a shock, like jumping into an
icy lake. Her heart skipped, then raced, each beat pounding so hard it echoed
in her head. She heard herself whimpering, moaning, howling as his movements
turned faster, rougher. His hip bones dug into her bottom. The hair on his
chest and stomach scrubbed the skin of her back until it stung. Her body
writhed, bucking as he plunged into her over and over. Bolts of pleasure
crackled along her nerves. Elise screamed and clawed at the sheet as the
thunderclap of her climax boomed through her, ecstasy reverberating along every
nerve.