Chapter 114 Worship in Hell
(Apollo & Adelaide)
“Survival is the oldest form of worship,” he replied. “Ask any mortal who has ever prayed before they die.”
She flinched.
He guided her closer with his hand in her hair, positioning her exactly where he wanted her. His other hand brushed her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw with infuriating care.
His touch was deceptively gentle—like a blade’s kiss grazing skin before the cut. Adelaide’s breath caught at the contrast, the soft stroke against the brutal memory of his teeth, his claws, his fury. Her nerves lit up beneath his thumb as if her skin remembered him more vividly than her mind ever could.
“Eyes on me,” he said quietly.
Adelaide’s breath stuttered. Her heart hammered in her ears. Heat pooled low in her belly at the command, her body reacting before her thoughts could catch up. She hated that—hated how a single order from him could turn her bones to liquid. Her pulse rattled against the inside of her ribs like a creature trying to escape.
She obeyed. Lifting her gaze to meet his, her lashes fluttered and her muscle clenched at the raw heated hunger he looked down at her with.
“Open.” He commanded.
She swallowed and once again, obeyed.
Her lips parted on instinct, but the moment felt electric—dangerous—like she was leaning into the jaws of a predator and hoping he tasted restraint.
Apollo angled his hips forward, edging the swollen tip of his scaled cock between her parted lips. The warmth of her tongue hit him, and a hiss escaped through his control. His hips jerked in reaction, pushing the slightly smaller cock deeper into her throat.
The weight of him pressed her tongue down, the heat of his flesh almost painful. The faint metallic tang of his scales brushed her lips, smoky and foreign. Her eyes watered, her body tensing with the sudden invasion, but the hunger in his groan vibrated through her, igniting something molten in her core.
Adelaide’s mouth closed around him—whether on instinct or cooperation.
Her jaw ached, the stretch intense, but the way his breath hitched—sharp, involuntary—pulled a tremor of satisfaction through her.
“Good girl,” he crooned, rubbing his fingers along her scalp.
His second cock rested against her cheek. The weight of it. The look of the black scales and how they almost glittered in the firelight. Turned something in her stomach. A flutter. An ache. A heated wetness.
It pulsed against her skin—warm, heavy, alive. She could feel the faint thrum of his heartbeat in it, wild and hungry, syncing with the pounding in her own chest. The firelight danced over the ridges of black scale, making it look almost jewelled, almost regal.
She rolled her tongue along the shaft and swallowed. Apollo gave her an approving groan and tightened his grip on her head.
He tasted like sin. Like ash and sulphur. Like pure fire. Like destiny. Her tongue tingled where it touched him, like licking a live ember. The flavour crawled up the back of her throat and settled there—a heat that wouldn’t go out, no matter how she swallowed.
Apollo watched her mouth move around him with rapt fascination. She worked him like she had been given a manual. Like she already knew exactly what he wanted. The way her tongue rolled, the way her throat tightened as she took him deep. The vibrations from her little groans. It was perfect. She was perfect.
A growl built in his chest, low and territorial. Every bob of her head, every gasp around him fed the storm inside him. She was kneeling—kneeling for him—and it struck his senses like lightning, burning straight through whatever restraint he clung to.
The arousal surprised Adelaide.
It didn’t just simmer—it surged. It trembled through her thighs, curled up her spine, clawed for more. The bond magnified it, sending every pulse of need straight into him, and every echo of his pleasure came roaring back into her. Her knees pressed harder into the warm stone, as if the heat beneath her was rising to meet her hunger.
She had tried this once before. With Liam. Sweet, gentle Liam.
But she didn’t like it. And he was too kind to tell her she wasn’t any good.
The memory felt pale now. Thin. Faded like an old sketch compared to the violent, vivid mural Apollo painted with every sound he made, every pulse of his grip in her hair. There was no comparison. No point pretending otherwise.
But this— this was different. This was instinct. This was ancient animalistic power. This was hunger.
When she pulled her mouth back, the black scaled dick came out of her mouth with a pop.
She didn’t wait. Did want to. The urge had enveloped her completely.
Her breath came in sharp, panting bursts between movements, each inhale laced with his scent—smoke and heat and something primal that dragged her deeper into the moment. She couldn’t think around it. Didn’t want to.
She turned her head and took his second cock into her mouth.
Its weight dragged her forward, her lips stretching wider, her jaw trembling with the effort. She moaned around him—she couldn’t help it—and the sound vibrated straight into his flesh.
This one was bigger, Thicker. But the scales were just as smooth.
“Yes.” Apollo groaned. His head fell back, and he pushed his hips forward. Forcing her to take more of him into her mouth.
His wings flared behind him, casting jagged shadows across the stone walls. He looked like something being worshipped in an ancient temple—devourer, deity, destruction incarnate. And she was kneeling at his altar, offering herself in ways she had never imagined.
This woman belonged on her knees. Belonged to him.
He would burn the world down to keep her. Like this. With him.
The thought made his chest roil with anger.
A sharp, territorial heat ripped through him—jealousy, obsession, need—twisting together until his vision blurred at the edges. The idea of another demon seeing her like this… touching her… it made his flames climb the walls.
But as he watched her. He took in the flush of her cheeks. The tears brimming in her eyes. The way those dark golden ringed eyes rolled back when she took him all the way to the back of her throat. The way her body squirmed and wriggled, searching for her own pleasure.
She was a storm on her knees—soft sounds, trembling thighs, wet heat pooling between her legs—and every second was a prayer he accepted gladly.
He knew it was true. She was his. Now and forever.