Sheer Cupidity: A Standalone Cupidity Romance (Heart Hassle Book 5)

LEX

It’s a bit of a whirlwind, but soon, I find myself sitting at the hearth hob’s dining room table in her immaculate house.

She’s busy behind me pulling off the kettle and filling a couple of teacups while my eyes flick over the crisp linen of the tablecloth that’s the exact same shade as the white of the walls and floors.

Yes. White floors. And there isn’t a single scuff or stain on them. I cringed with every step I took from the front door to here, worrying that I was going to get something on it.

Belren is walking around through the front living room, and my eyes dart to the right when I see him pass by the doorway. “This place is a bit boring. Too organized,” he calls out before he turns and disappears up a set of stairs. After a moment, I hear a muffled, “She hangs up her socks! What kind of psychopath hangs up their socks?”

I dart a look at the female, immensely thankful that she’s unaware of the ghost rifling through her house. I twist my fingers around in my lap. “So, I—”

“Here’s the tea,” she says before bustling over and placing the teacup in front of me. This is the third time I’ve tried to broach the subject of the bomb she dropped back in the alleyway. Yet each time, she’s shut me down when I’ve asked her to elaborate. She said it wasn’t something we could talk about in public.

Clearing my throat, I start talking awkwardly. “Umm, Miss Hearth Hob…or Madame Brownie?” I venture, glancing down at her brown cloak. “Or perhaps you like to be called a hobs?” There were a few other terms Chuckrey mentioned, but now they’ve escaped me.

She levels me with an unimpressed look. “My name is Miur.”

“Right.” My cheeks are shaking a little from how much I’m trying to smile. Maybe I’m smiling too much? Is there a level of too smiley in a somewhat awkward setting? I should look into it.

“Miur,” I repeat as she takes a seat across from me at the small round table. “Thank you for inviting me into your home.”

She straightens the sprig of pine she has poised in the glass vase in front of us before lifting her own teacup to her mouth for a sip. She looks up at me expectantly, her curly blonde brow arched. “You don’t like tea?” The way she asks it makes it very clear that if I say no, her assessment of me will plummet.

“I love tea,” I quickly say, my eyes flicking down to the cup in front of me that’s been filled to the brim. I can’t stop worrying that I’m going to accidentally slosh the liquid over and stain her tablecloth. Or worse yet, spill the whole thing and make a puddle on the floor. But Miur is still looking at me with judgment in her eyes, so I shoot her a tight smile before reaching for the cup.

It takes me ages to lift the thing to my lips, because I’m being extra careful with it. When I manage to take a sip and set it back down on the table without mishap, a small sigh of relief escapes me.

With a terse nod, she gets up again to search through some cupboards. “So, Miur,” I try again. “You said something about the princess…”

She comes back, setting a tray of biscuits in front of me, and I swear my face must drain of all color, because I just know that these things are crumbly as all get out. My strained smile becomes just a little more tense. “These look…delicious.”

They look like a test I’m going to fail, if I’m honest.

“Just made them this morning. Go on and have one.”

My eyes widen. “Oh, I don’t know—”

“Eat.”

Alright then.

Reaching for it, I pick one up like it’s a stick of dynamite. I know it’s going to detonate at any moment, the crumbs of its shrapnel ready to take me out. She watches me as I take a tentative bite, my eyes widening as I feel crumbs stick to my lips and fingers. We both know this is a disaster in the making.

It’s crumbling. I can feel it. The whole thing has split into little pieces, and if I move it away from my lips, it’s going to cascade down into a disintegrated mess that I won’t be able to come back from.

So there’s really only one option. I shove the whole thing into my mouth. I can’t close my lips around it, but I’m committed now. I chew and churn and maneuver it around my tongue like a champ. A painful amount of slow seconds tick by, with me struggling to chew this dry thing while she awkwardly watches me.

When I finish, I lick my lips to make sure I’ve gotten every single morsel, and then I beam at her like the victorious cupid I am.

Miur lets out the tiniest grunt of annoyance. Her lips purse, eyes searching over the tabletop. When she isn’t successful there, she leans sideways to take a look at the floor. It’s like she’s just itching to find a solitary crumb so she can blame me while simultaneously getting very excited about cleaning it up.

With my victorious smile still plastered on my face, I lift up my cup of tea with a mock salute. I start guzzling it to rinse away the dry-mouth I have going on when I hear, “Well, that was an interesting thing for me to witness. Who knew you could fit so much into your mouth at one time?”

Belren scares the beats right out of my heart, and I jump a half a foot off the chair, spilling tea all over myself. I sputter out a choked cough as droplets go flying everywhere, landing on the tablecloth, dripping down my chin, soaking into my shirt. And yes, some of it even spills onto the white floor.

The victory that my mouth had just battled for is now completely saturated in blotted defeat.

“Don’t worry, Pinky. You look good when you choke, too.”

I blink at him, chin still dripping, and the second I realize his meaning, my cheeks go so hot I’m surprised my whole face doesn’t catch on fire.

I really want to shove him again.

Across from me, Miur’s face spreads into an expression of pleased arrogance. “What a mess you’ve made,” she tuts. “I’ll need to clean that up straight away.”

She gets right to work, humming happily as she starts to strip the tablecloth, ignoring me completely. Muttering out an apology, I quickly excuse myself to the washroom, not at all surprised when Belren follows me, walking right through the closed door.

I glare at him as I dry my chin off with a towel before trying to soak up the splatters that have plastered the shirt to my chest. “You did that on purpose.”

“What, made you choke on it?” he asks with a smirk. “Like I said, you took it beautifully.”

“I’m going to murder you.”

“You said that about the princess too, and you still haven’t offed her. I think I’m safe, especially since you kind of already did that,” he teases.

I go still at his words, my mouth dropping open because…oh my gods, he’s right. I may not have actually done the deed, but it was because of me that he was murdered. And now here I am, saying that so callously… A sudden surge of emotions slams into me.

So of course, I burst into tears.

Belren freezes, hands shooting up in front of him like he’s warding off an attack. I’d say he looks pale as a ghost, but he always looks like that. “What’s happening? What’s wrong?” he asks, the pitch of his voice bordering on panic.

“I murdered you!” I stuff the towel into my face and cry, all the pent-up guilt I’ve had for so long feeling like it’s suddenly wringing out of me. All this time, when I’ve slacked at my work or when I’ve doubled down on it, no matter what, this guilt has cornered and crowded me so much I couldn’t even breathe. Couldn’t even think.

I hear Belren curse under his breath, but when I look up, he’s right at my side. His hand comes up to try to grab mine, but it goes right through me.

His silver eyes lift to mine. “Stop blocking me and let me touch you.”

“I can’t,” I sniffle. “I’m not purposely blocking you.”

“Well, then stop unpurposely blocking me,” he says, trying to joke again to lighten the mood. But I’m in full rain cloud mode right now. There is no light.

When my chin wobbles, his face softens as he comes around to stand in front of me. “No crying, Pinky. I can’t stand it.”

“How can you stand to be around me now that you know I’m the reason you’re like this?” I ask miserably. “You should hate me.”

Belren cocks his head. “You don’t get it yet, do you? I could never hate you.”

You should, I think to myself.

More tears drip down my cheeks, and Belren lifts a hand to try to wipe them away. But when his fingers come up to my face, I don’t feel a thing, his touch going right through me. Still, he doesn’t drop his hand. “Come on, Pinky,” he implores. “Let me touch you.”

“Why do you assume it’s me blocking you?” I retort. “Maybe it’s the other way around.”

He doesn’t even hesitate before shaking his head. “Nope. That’s not it.”

I open my mouth to dispute that claim, but he shushes me. “As much as I love that sassy mouth of yours, I need you to hold back from arguing with me for the moment,” he says. “Close your eyes.”

Shooting him a dubious look, I then let out a shaky sigh before I relent.

“That’s it,” he praises. “Now, I want you to imagine that we’re back at the gardens.” His voice has dropped down to that timbre I’ve come to recognize as my favorite.

It takes me a few seconds, but I manage to clear my head enough to do as he said. But when I picture that night, it’s just a collage of dirty snapshots and grass stains.

“I can see you’re thinking about it,” Belren says with a knowing chuckle. “Next, I want you to think about the way it felt when I touched you. How did it feel when I skimmed my mouth along your neck? Or when my hands gripped your hips?”

The low growl of his voice makes my core clench. Apparently, my body has zero issues remembering.

“Remember what it was like when I slipped my hand against your pussy? Remember the sound of your moans?” His voice comes closer, right at my ear, making chills scatter and my legs press together. My body seems to be as receptive as ever, even if he is sheerer than a sheet. “You want me to touch you again like that, don’t you, Lex?”

Goodness gracious.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Then let me touch you.” Cold lips press against my neck. My breath hitches, chills scattering over my entire body, and my eyes spring open in surprise.

Belren’s head tilts back with smug victory that somehow makes him even more handsome. “Good girl.”

Yep. That praise obviously does something for me. Because in the next instant, I launch myself at him.

My hands are flung around his neck like I’m gripping a tree branch, my legs scrabbling to shimmy up his trunk of a body, and my lips slam against his. I kiss him like his mouth is the way to the promised land and I have to lick my way through.

It’s not…look, I know what I’m doing right now doesn’t have a lot of finesse. I can feel that without seeing it. But where my charm is lacking, I make up for with pure vigor.

I can tell Belren is caught off guard at first, purely from the way he freezes against me, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned about him, it’s that he’s excellent at adapting.

Pause forgotten, his hands come to my hips, and then he’s spinning me around and placing me on the pedestal of the washbasin. I land a bit crookedly, wings skewed, half my butt sinking into the basin, the other half perched awkwardly around the lip. But the logical solution to that is me wrapping my legs around Belren and grinding against him. Obviously.

I’m still doing my best impersonation of licking through an ice cream cone when Belren pulls away from me. I try to go right back to suction-mouth mode, but he chuckles, squishing my cheeks between his hands as he holds me in place.

His eyes skate over my face in something that looks like adoration. “You’re very energetic today.”

I shrug a shoulder, legs still wrapped around him, hands tangled around the nape of his neck. I get the best chance to play with the ends of his white hair too. It feels less like normal hair and more like the individual strands that make up a feather.

Getting curious, I move my hand up to one of his curling horns, placing the pad of my finger at the blunt tip. He jerks in surprise, eyes snapping to mine. “Do that again.”

Bolder now, I run my finger up, following the ridged curve, and Belren’s entire body shudders. “What does it feel like?” I ask quietly.

“If I had to guess?” he replies, voice sounding a bit strained. “A bit like it would if you’d stroke my cock, I believe.”

My hand freezes for a moment, my eyes widening on his face. When he doesn’t crack a smile, I realize he’s serious. I also realize that he looks very, very turned on, almost to the point of pain.

Biting my lip, I shift my touch until I’m gripping both horns, one in each hand, and then I stroke upward in a firm grasp.

Belren lets out a groan that curls my toes. I mean…I’m not an expert on groans or anything—although, I probably should be—but I think the one he just made was the sexiest in the world. In the top ten, at the very least.

I continue to stroke, gently at first, before I start to grip a bit harder, stealing another one of his sexy sounds. I can’t even fully fathom the power of the fact that I’m making him not just feel, but feel good.

Really good, if I were to judge based on the look on his face.

When I make another pass down the curve of his horn, he reaches up to grip one of my wrists. Wordlessly, he brings my hand down to his groin, where I find exactly how good he’s doing.

Watching his face, I cup my hand around him and squeeze, making his hips buck forward. “Fucking gods. Do that again.”

A thrill travels up my spine. “Say please.”

His eyes flash. “Oh, Pinky. When I have my hands on your skin and your hand is on my cock, you don’t give the orders.”

I think…I think I just swooned a little.

Which is odd, considering I always thought swooning was just a poorly described fake flirtatious faint, or perhaps an excuse to get away from people. But I feel a real life swoon going on right now, all from his domineering words. A warm, lightheaded giddiness has taken over, like my secret crush just smiled at me.

“My innocent cupid always with a blush on her cheeks as bright as her hair,” he says, tucking a flyaway behind my ear.

“Does that bother you?” I ask. “That I’m innocent?”

“Why would it?”

I glance away, embarrassed. “While you were alive… Well, what I mean is that I heard…umm.” I trail off.

Mirth curves his lips up. “Are you implying—yet too polite to outright say—that I was a bit of a sleep-around in my mortal life?”

“Yep. Yes. Yes, you were.”

He laughs. “Well, as far as I’m concerned, none of those…encounters happened, since I can’t remember them anyway. I’m also dead, so I’m fairly sure that all of that experience I gained in my life means absolutely nothing now. Consider us both innocent.”

I snort at the thought.

Belren’s eyes narrow, though they’re filled with a hungry spark. “Think that’s funny, do you?” His hand comes down between my legs, and he cups me with a firm, possessive grip that steals my breath. “Let’s see how long until I make you moan instead.”

My eyes flare. On the one hand, my needy body is very aware of the pleasure he can give me, but on the other hand… “We can’t,” I tell him. “Miur is waiting for me.”

“She’ll be scrubbing that tablecloth bare, getting as much of a power boost out of it that she can. We have plenty of time for a little fun.”

I drop my eyes down to his groin. “How little?”

His hand grinds against me, making me yelp as the heel of his palm presses hard against my throbbing clit. “You are quite sassy today, aren’t you?”

“I thought it was a valid question,” I pant, trying and failing to keep the smile off my face, even as I continue to cup him, feeling the evidence of his substantial size. Curiosity takes over. “Can you…you know. Do the deed?”

Belren grins. “Ready to find out, are we?”

“Considering where both of our hands are…”

He lets out a rumbling chuckle, his fingers circling. “Pinky, when I fuck you, it’s not going to be in a strange hob’s bathroom. I don’t think even she would appreciate the cleanup.”

My eyes widen as reality comes crashing down around me, and I jerk my hand away from him. “Oh gods, you’re right.” I look down between us, noting the way my legs are still wrapped around his waist, my hips tilted toward him obscenely. “I can’t believe I did that,” I say, hands coming down to his chest to push him away. He doesn’t budge.

“I told you I wouldn’t fuck you.” He reaches around with his other hand to slip off the strap that secures the bow and quiver to my back, setting them both down on the floor. “But that doesn’t mean I’d leave my cupid wanting.”

I gulp. “That’s generous of you.”

“I’m benevolent.”

“You used to be a thief,” I remind him.

He shrugs before stepping away, forcing my legs to drop…and then he drops right along with them. I stare wide eyed as he kneels, and then he’s tugging my pants down until both they and his mouth are skimming my calves.

“What are you—”

“Remember when I said I wanted to taste your sweetness everywhere?”

My shaky knees knock together like a drunk rapping on the wrong door. “You can’t do that right now!”

Firm hands grip my bare knees, and he gently pries them apart again. “If you really don’t want me to, I won’t,” he tells me seriously. “But if you’re just nervous, don’t be. I’ll always make you feel good, and like I told you, there’s no embarrassment between us.”

My mouth feels about as dry as a desert. Which is funny, considering how wet I am between my legs.

“Okay,” I say, swallowing hard as I try to relax my legs, but I can’t. I’m frozen stiff, unsure of what to do. My hands are a tangle in my lap before I snap them down to grip the basin…and then put them right back in my lap again.

Belren takes note of my nervous fidgeting. “Lean back against the wall.”

I’m so grateful for the direction that I lean with an overabundance of enthusiasm. I smack my head so hard into the wall that I see stars. I swear, if I get concussed from this, I’ll never live it down.

Trying to play it off, I squint open my eyes, but I find Belren trying to repress a laugh from his spot between my legs. “You okay up there?”

“Yes,” I reply quickly, rubbing the back of my head.

“Good. Now, lean back carefully.”

I let my head rest against the wall gently this time. “How was that?”

“That was very good, Pinky.”

My wings ruffle up. “Thanks.”

“I’m going to start licking you now, if you’re ready.”

I laugh nervously. “Ready steady, Freddy.”

Belren frowns. “Who the hell is Freddy?”

“Oh, um. I actually have no clue.”

“Maybe…hold off on saying other male’s names when my face is next to your cunt.”

I blush at his words but nod sagely. “That’s reasonable.”

His hands stroke up my thighs in long, slow movements, as if he’s acclimating me to the feel of him. It’s nice. For a moment, that’s all he does. Just caresses my skin with his light touch. Then, he leans in and places a kiss over my underwear, making me jolt. “Oh!”

Belren looks up at me. “Doing okay?”

All I can do is give him a sloppy nod.

As soon as I do, he drags my underwear down. With his teeth.

Goodness.

When I’m bare to him, he lets out a growl, taking me all in. I have to suppress the intense urge to cover myself. My hands flit around my thighs nervously. “Can you stop looking at it?”

Belren’s eyes flick up to my face, and then his hand cups me again, making me shudder. “This pretty pussy is mine right now, so I’ll look my fill. No need to be shy, because everything about you is perfect.”

If I like being praised, I really like being called perfect. Not even just the word itself, really, but the fact that I can tell he really means it. He truly thinks I’m perfect, and that makes all the difference.

While I’m momentarily distracted, Belren leans in and licks.

It’s a good thing he’s gripping my thighs, because otherwise, I think I would’ve fallen right off the edge of the washbasin. “Oh gods, you’re getting right in there.”

I feel him chuckle against my inner thigh.

“I wasn’t expecting this,” I start to blabber, my nerves and curiosity dueling for supremacy. “It just feels like a normal tongue—at least, I think it does. Not that I have experience with feeling a tongue…down there,” I say quickly, only for Belren to lick again, making my head loll against the wall. “Except it’s not warm, probably because none of you is warm,” I add, my voice strained as I try to keep my composure. “But are alive tongues too warm, do you think?” I frown at my own unanswered question. “I wonder what temperature they are on average. I’ll have to see if I can look that up later. It would be interesting to compare.”

A growl comes from between my legs, and I look down as Belren meets my eye. “You are not comparing other tongues. Mine will be the only one that gets to taste you.”

“Oh. Of course. Forget I said that, please. I’m just nervous.”

He snorts. “I can tell. But if you’re talking and overthinking this much, that means I’m not doing my job right.”

My brows pull together. “I’m sure that’s not true,” I say, hoping to boost his confidence. “I’ve witnessed a lot of cunnilingus as a cupid, and you’re performing all the necessary steps.”

My hands continue to flick around nervously, going from my lap to my thighs to the basin and then repeating all over again. “What should I do with my hands? I don’t know what to do with them. Maybe I should just…” For some reason completely unknown to me, I think it’s a good idea to thread my fingers together and prop them behind my head like I’m lying on a beach sunbathing. I’m self-aware enough to know that it’s a weird position, but I’m just stuck, eyes wide with worry, no idea what to do. Surely, there’s some sort of protocol for this.

Belren’s gaze flicks from my awkward hands back to my face as he slowly arches a brow. “Hey, Pinky?”

“Yes?”

“I’m going to need you to do three things for me. Can you do that?”

I nod emphatically, because I am fully cognizant of the fact that I am spiralling, and I really need some direction. And so do my hands, apparently.

“You’re too in your head to enjoy this,” he goes on. “So I need you to close your eyes, take a deep breath, and then grip my horns and don’t let go.”

My eyes widen. “You want me to—”

He cocks his head, tsking with disapproval. “Talking and worrying wasn’t on that list I gave you, was it, love?”

I clamp my lips shut and shake my head no. I have to admit, my stomach is doing little flips because of his domineering tone and his choice of nickname. Maybe it’s a cupid thing. Love really excites me.

Belren’s eyes flash. “You want to be a good girl, don’t you?”

My head nods so hard I get a crick in my neck. “Yes. Absolutely. Definitely, I do. The best girl, in fact.”

He cracks a smile. “Good,” he says, thumbs rubbing comforting circles on my thighs. It feels delightful, and manages to relax me a bit. “Go on then.”

Mentally clamping onto his instructions, I slide my eyes closed and then take a deep breath. I force myself to count to seven for both inhaling and exhaling, just to make sure I’m overachieving. Then I lift shaky hands until my fingers wrap around his horns, my grip tightening when he groans.

“That’s it. Now don’t let go, or that’ll count against you.”

I feel my lips turn down involuntarily because I definitely don’t want marks against me, and I’m a little offended that he thinks I’d even allow that to happen.

“Just like in the gardens, Pinky,” he says in that low tone of his that makes me shiver, the sound even more intense when my eyes are closed. “It’s just you and me, and all you need to do right now is to feel my tongue on you.”

“I can do that,” I say breathlessly. I can excel at it too. I’ll make sure of it.

His cool fingers skate higher up, trailing over my hip bones before dipping down to the junction between. I tense up, but Belren doesn’t chastise me for it. Instead, he takes away my ability to think completely.

His mouth descends onto me without hesitation, his tongue going up in one slow stroke that makes a little yelp escape me. Then his mouth is moving again, lips closing around my clit, and he sucks.

Literally, not figuratively, just to be clear. He’s excellent at it.

“Oh gods…”

Belren’s tongue flicks and laps, mouth suctioning between movements, until I’ve forgotten all about the what do I do with my hands conundrum, and I start directing his face by his horns. It’s like a steering wheel and a fidget stick all in one. Very handy.

“Don’t let go,” he cautions, and I snort, because there’s absolutely no danger of that happening now. In fact, he should really be more concerned with me never letting him go. I’ve boa-constrictored myself right onto him and am now considering the limit of greediness for how long I can keep his head stuffed between my legs.

The faintest feel of scratchy stubble scrapes against my thighs in the most sensual way, and just when I thought things couldn’t get any better, he pushes a finger inside of me and curls it, hitting a spot that makes my wings flare out behind me, one of them knocking into the glass of the small window.

“A plus, A plus,” I pant out in a jumble.

Lick. “Are you grading me, Pinky?” Suck.

“Exceeds Expectations,” I blurt, feeling hot all over, tingling on the arches of my wings

“Happy to hear it.”

He starts thrusting in and out, pads of his finger curling again and again to stroke the bolt of lightning that seems to stir to life there every time he does it.

Someone dead should not be so good at this, but here we are.

I’m getting eaten out by a ghost. Honestly, if more hauntings were like this, it would be so much better.

“Stroke my horns while I lick your pussy, Lex. Show me how you’d stroke my cock.”

His rumbled order has my hands moving instantly, and even though I’ve never done it before, I fancy myself an expert at observation, so I stroke and squeeze perfectly. Belren lets out a sexy groan, making it travel directly from his lips…to mine.

“Good fucking girl.”

Praise Kink Level 3: Unlocked.

He sucks again, making Lust slip out of me in ribbons of pink. My back arches, head knocking against the wall that is definitely not quiet, and I think I start chanting his name, but I can’t be sure, because he starts thrusting his finger in and out while doing his sucky licky thing, and I’m done.

I’m done.

I yank on his head so hard that a grunt escapes him as I smash him closer to me. There’s no way he can breathe with the way my thighs are clamped around his head, but he’s a ghost. Breathing is unnecessary.

He’s fine.

My orgasm hits me with a force of its own. It takes the breath right out of my chest, and his name chant that I’m still not sure I was saying out loud turns into one I definitely know is said out loud, because I shout it.

I shout it to the rooftops, coming apart in a million pieces, and I don’t even care about ever being put back together again.