Holy fuck, she really is coming.
My body takes over, even as my mind grapples with this surreal experience. I drive into her, needing to get deeper, to take her harder. Her moans grow louder, and she’s arching her back, angling to take me the same way I’m taking her.
Three strokes in, I realize I don’t give a fuck about lasting. She’s ensured her own pleasure. I’m a sap if I do anything else. I curse and jerk her back onto my cock, giving in to the pressure building in my balls. I come so hard, it makes me dizzy. I want to keep fucking her, to drive into her again and again until…
Until I don’t know what.
I stare down at the point where we’re joined. Sex is sex, and its importance begins and ends with having a good time. Except this isn’t sex. I just passed the point of no return. There can be no annulment now.
We’re well and truly married.
I withdraw from her, careful to keep the condom in place, and stagger into the bathroom. I’m no steadier once I’ve cleaned up, so I splash some cold water on my face. There’s the rest of the night to get through, and though I have no intention of fucking my wife again, I still have to learn to live with her.
Except when I step back into the bedroom, it’s to find her pulling on a different dress. It’s a vibrant red and barely covers her ass and tits. It’s also tight enough that I can tell she’s not wearing a thing under it.
“What are you doing?”
She brushes past me, still wearing those damned heels, and finger-combs her hair in front of the mirror. “Our business is done for the night, dear husband. I’m off to have some fun.”
Alarm bells peal through my head. This isn’t going at all like I thought it would. She doesn’t seem affected by the fact we had sex at all.
Not that I’m affected by the sex at all. More that past partners have usually wanted to talk or cuddle or some shit after the fact. Maybe go for round two or three. They aren’t dressed after fucking and taking off the first chance they get. “Running away?”
She pauses. “It’s really cute that you think you scare me.”
“Don’t I? We’re alone. No big brother to protect you.” I don’t know why I say it. Minos gave me clear orders, and those orders don’t include making waves with my new wife. I’m supposed to settle into Hephaestus and secure this power base.
Aphrodite watches me in the mirror, her gaze mocking. “Aw, you think I need protection. Cute.” She turns, and I’m only human. My attention drops to where the top dips until I can almost see her dusky-rose nipples. She snaps her fingers by her face to drag my eyes up. “If you planned on murdering me, you would have done it before the wedding and that lackluster sex.”
Lackluster—
She tugs on the hem of her dress, and I’m distracted by the possibility of her breasts popping free. She smooths her hands over the slick-looking fabric. “There.”
“You can’t go out like that.”
I realize my mistake the moment she smiles. “On the contrary, I can do whatever I damn well please.” She flicks a glance at my hips. At my cock. “Or did you think that sad little performance was enough to leave me comatose? Sorry, darling, but I have entirely too much energy to stay cooped up here with you.”
She blows past me again, leaving me to hurry after her, feeling like a fool. “Stop.”
“I don’t think I will.” She pauses at the door and blows me a kiss. “Have a good night, Husband. I certainly plan to.”
4
PANDORA
The reception continues after Theseus—Hephaestus, I have to remember that—and his new bride go upstairs. I’m worried about him. He’s always been too locked down, and Minos fostering him hasn’t done anything but make that worse. Not that he listens to me when it comes to his fucked-up little family.
I’m sure I’m supposed to be somewhere, but like every other time Theseus is occupied with Minos’s tasks, I’m immediately ignored. Normally, I appreciate the reprieve. Minos doesn’t like me and he’s not very good at hiding that fact, for all that he’s an excellent liar.
I’ve never felt so adrift before this moment, though.
I drain my champagne glass. Too much alcohol, but I think I can be excused. It’s a party, after all.
“Pandora?”
I turn, tipping a little, to find a pretty Black woman standing a few feet away. She’s wearing a deep-purple dress that flatters her light-brown skin. It takes my brain a second to place her familiar face. “Eurydice.” She was one of Minos’s guests at that ill-fated house party. At least she survived it. I look around. “Where’s your handsome shadow?”