Hades strips as he walks toward me. Jacket and shirt. Shoes and pants. He stops a few feet away and I can’t help reaching for him. He might be giving me the view I crave, but I need something even more vital—his skin against mine.
Except he catches my hand before I make contact with his chest and guides it up to his neck. He finishes closing the distance between us, bringing us chest to chest. I get the faint impression of rough scars against my skin, but Hades kisses me again and I forget anything else but getting him inside me as quickly as possible.
He lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist. The new position has his cock nearly lined up perfectly where I need him, but he moves before I can lose my mind enough to take advantage. My need is an all-consuming thing that’s been building since the moment I laid eyes on him. Having sex in front of the crowd was one thing, but it barely took the edge off. That was about reputation. This is about us.
Hades walks us to the bed and climbs onto it. He takes my hands and guides them up to the headboard. “Keep them here.”
“Hades.” I’m panting as if I’ve run a great distance. “Please. I want to touch you.”
“Keep your hands here,” he repeats and gives my wrists a squeeze.
He doesn’t have to say it again. I’m already nodding. Anything to keep this going, to prevent this moment from ending. “Okay.”
Hades shifts back to kneel between my spread thighs. His front is in shadow, but I have the feeling that he can see me in detail from the light through the windows. He cups my breasts, but he doesn’t linger long before he slides down my body and presses an openmouthed kiss to the sensitive spot just below my belly button. And then he’s at my pussy. His breath shudders out against my clit as if he’s just as affected by this moment as I am. Maybe more so.
“I’m going to have you, little siren. In every position, in every way.”
I don’t know if he’s talking to me or talking to himself, but I don’t care. I grip the headboard hard and fight to stay still. “Then take me.” An echo of what I said to him on the throne, but it means something different now. I can’t pretend I want this solely for the benefit of our mutual reputations.
No, I just want him.
My desire to hear Hades’s dry, rasping laugh is becoming a serious addiction. It’s a thousand times better when he’s making the sound against my pussy. He drags his tongue over me. His growl is the only warning I get before he grabs my thighs and presses them up and out, holding me completely open. There is no savoring, no teasing, no tempting me. He goes after my pussy like he’ll never get this chance again. Like he needs my orgasm more than he needs his next breath.
Each exhale sobs out. I can’t think, can’t move, can’t do anything but obey his order to hang on and take the pleasure he has rising with every movement of his tongue. I start shaking and can’t stop. “Hades!”
He doesn’t respond, just keeps up the same movements that have desire coiling tighter and tighter through me. It’s too good. I want it to last and want the promised finale and just flat-out want. Hades sucks my clit hard into his mouth and pushes two fingers into me. I come so hard, it feels like every system is shutting down.
It’s as if that orgasm took his edge off because he takes his time now, dragging his mouth over my stomach, kissing the curves of my breasts. I’m still spinning, but each touch, combined with the weight of his body on mine, slowly draws me back to earth. I lick my lips. “Hades.”
He pauses. “Yeah?”
“Can I touch you now? Please?”
His breath shudders out against my neck. “You are touching me.”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” I don’t release the headboard, won’t break his command without permission. This feels like an important moment, like we’re poised on the brink of something big. It doesn’t make any sort of sense. This is only sex, an act that can be simmered down to its basic components. I desire him, so naturally I want to touch him. I don’t want this to stop, so of course I won’t disobey his order.
Except it doesn’t feel that simple.
Hades is very intentionally hiding from me. By sight, by touch, by everything. I shouldn’t resent that last bit of distance between us, not when he’s so invested in my pleasure. But I do. I want everything, just like he’s demanding from me. My chest goes tight. “Hades, please.”
He hesitates so long, I think he’s going to deny me again. Finally, he curses and reaches over my head to take one of my hands and bring it down to press against his chest, and then repeats the motion with my other hand. The skin is marred, too smooth in some places and raised in others. Scars. I’m feeling scars.