Page 38 of The Never Queen

I cross the room to Peter Pan.

He lifts the corner of my dress, slips his hand inside my panties, then down my wet seam, sinking a finger inside of me. I exhale and almost lose my footing. I’m so wound up, so ready to come, that the slightest pressure might send me over the edge.

But Pan quickly retreats and stands up, towering over me.

“Open up, Darling,” he says, echoing the command he gave me many months ago when I first landed in Neverland and he caught me with Bash.

I do as he asks, parting my lips for him and he shoves his finger into my mouth. The salty taste of cum and the heady mix of my own juices roll around on my tongue.

“What’s that taste like?” he asks and I think I know what game he’s playing.

“Trouble,” I tell him,

He nods. “But the best kind, yes?”

I nod. “Yes.”

He walks me back until I hit the opposite wall and then he’s wrenching my dress up, tearing off my panties. He lifts me up and shoves inside of me.

“I love watching you get fucked, Darling,” he says.

“I know you do.”

“I could watch you get filled up all night long and never be satisfied.”

When Pan is like this, confessing his secrets while wrapped in the headiness of sex, I feel the most powerful. Almost as if I could command him to destroy worlds for me and he would.

Friction builds between us, and I clutch at his shirt, the same frenzied energy that seems to dominate his every thrust overtaking me, too. I am ravenous, but insatiable. Crackling like a live wire meeting the rush of water.

Pan presses closer, caging me between him and the wall, thrusting into me so deeply, the pleasure edges on pain.

“Come on my cock, Winnie Darling,” he orders and that’s all he needs to say.

I come hard and fast, the shadow welling up inside of me making me feel weightless like I really am on a roller coaster, like I am made of air and might float away if he let me.

He clings to me too, hooking my thigh, spreading me open as he spills at my center.

My hands tangle in his shirt, keeping me anchored to his body as I moan loudly, drowning out the music from the TV.

We stand there, breathing heavily against each other, the pleasure slowly ebbing out like the quiet after a crashing wave.

Pan drops my leg and reaches up, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “Winnie Darling,” he says and then bends to kiss me. It’s the kind of kiss that should not exist between two people who are rough and coarse with each other, but that’s exactly why I love Pan so much. He can be just as gentle as he can brutal and commanding.

The kiss is soft and slow and lasts a lifetime.

“Say it,” I tell him.

He smiles against my mouth. “Good girl.”

And all is right in the world.

19

WINNIE

As morning approaches, Pan says goodnight to me and retreats to his room in the basement.

Vane leaves to check the house’s perimeter and adjacent streets.