My body flushes hot and needy. I arch my back, pressing my breasts more firmly into his touch. I can’t doubt his words. Not when he’s told me harsh truths and soft ones. He has no reason to lie to me now. He’s getting exactly what he wants, after all—what we both want.
I tentatively run my hands up his arms, lingering over the harsh lines of his muscles. We paint quite the picture. Me, naked and soft. Him, clothed and all barely controlled strength. “Touch me.”
“I am touching you.” His voice is lower than I’ve heard it yet, rough and tight. “Or do you mean touch you like this?” He moves, bracketing my throat with one hand and sliding his other down to palm my pussy. I’ve never felt so owned in my life. I’ve never looked so owned.
No, not owned. Possessed.
I lean forward a little just to feel the strength in his palm against my neck, just to have him flex his fingers against my sensitive skin.
Eros holds my gaze as he parts my folds and pushes two blunt fingers into me, a slow and thorough penetration. I start to shut my eyes, unable to bear being exposed like this, but he makes a sharp sound. “No. Don’t hide from me. Not tonight. Not like this.”
I can’t handle the sheer heat in his eyes so I focus on his hand between my thighs. It looks as good as it feels. He idly fucks me with his fingers, strumming my need higher and higher. “Look at you,” he murmurs. “You’re so fucking perfect.”
If any other partner said those words—and they have—I would chalk it up to being caught in the heat of the moment. I know I’m attractive, but my beauty doesn’t inspire the reverence these kinds of compliments inherently carry.
Except…
Eros sounds like he means it. He looks like he means it. He keeps working my pussy in slow strokes as his free hand moves over my body, like he can’t touch me enough. Cupping first one breast and then the other, stroking down my stomach, over to squeeze my hip as he makes a growling sound. “Fucking perfect.” He eases his fingers out of me and moves up to circle my clit. “So clever and ambitious and you hide it behind this pretty face. Do you ever let down your walls, beautiful girl?”
“Eros, please.” I don’t know what I’m asking for. For him to stop, to never stop, to just make me orgasm without saying words that feel like he’s lashing me right down to my soul.
“That’s answer enough.” Eros nips my shoulder, making me jolt, and slides two fingers back into me. “Let go, Psyche. I want to feel your pussy clamp around my fingers as you come.” He presses the heel of his hand to my clit, each stroke rubbing me where I need it most.
I don’t last another sixty seconds.
I come hard, the cry barely passing my lips before his mouth is on mine, devouring the sound as he strums my pleasure higher and higher. Wave after wave. Gods, it’s too much and not enough, and if I could think properly, I’d be terrified that I’ll never get enough. My knees give out; he doesn’t miss a beat. Eros guides me back onto the bed and far enough up the mattress until he can kneel between my spread thighs.
The way this man looks at me.
If I were smarter, I’d find a way to run from him. The heat in Eros’s eyes is something like obsession, and being this man’s sole focus is dangerous in a way I’m not prepared to deal with. I am strong; I’ve had to be in order to survive this long mostly unscathed.
I’m nowhere near strong enough to win a battle of wills with Eros if he ever decides he wants to break me to pieces.
17
Eros
My hands are shaking. My whole fucking body is shaking. Watching Psyche come apart for me, feeling her clench around my fingers as she orgasmed, knowing that she’s trusting me enough to let me guide this… It makes me want to fall on her like a ravening beast. To plunge into her until nothing exists but our hard and rough fucking.
She deserves better than that.
I don’t put much stock in marriage and all it entails, but Psyche is the type who does. Even if I hadn’t forced her hand with this situation, she might not have had a love match. It’s nearly unheard of in Olympus, especially among the Thirteen and their families. It’s significantly more common to marry for money, power, and prestige. Love doesn’t enter into the equation.
Even so, the fact remains that I’m the reason she lost what little chance she had for love. The very least I can do is ensure that she has a memorable wedding night.
I run my hands up her legs and over her rounded stomach. Having her naked and spread out before me is just as heady now as it was this afternoon. It’s how fucking sexy she is, yes, but I keep coming back to the trust she’s placing in me. I don’t deserve it…but strangely enough, I want to deserve it.