There’s no room for doubt, for recrimination. Later, I’ll worry about how I’ve changed things between us, smudged lines that desperately needed to remain clear. Right now, I’m dancing on the edge, my body strummed tight with the orgasm bearing down on me. So close…
Eros shifts and then he’s pressing his fingers into me. The shock of the penetration, combined with the way he’s working my clit, hurtles me over the edge. I cry out, my grip spasming in his hair, but the pleasure doesn’t stop. It keeps going, his mouth and hands building up another wave even before the first dissipates.
Oh gods.
“Eros.” I tug on his hair, but I might as well try to tug the moon from the sky. “Eros, wait.”
He barely lifts his mouth enough to say “One more.”
“I can’t.” I shouldn’t.
He slows but doesn’t remove his fingers. The entire bottom half of his face is wet from my desire, and as I watch, he licks his lips. “That was barely a taste. I’m not done.” He pumps slowly into me, penetrating me, possessing me. “Let me have my fill, Psyche. You can go back to hating me later.”
I don’t hate you. Even if I should. “Okay,” I whisper. I don’t sound like myself. I don’t feel like myself. Surely someone else has taken possession of my body—a wanton, reckless creature who cares only for pleasure and the consequences be damned.
Even if I’m the one who will ultimately pay the price.
I lose track of time. Of my fears. Of everything but the two of us in this bed, Eros going down on me like he never needs to breathe, drawing orgasm after orgasm from me.
Eventually he slows. Or I do. I’m not sure. Only that I’m shaking so hard, it’s as if I’ve just enduring one of Callisto’s boot-camp workouts. Eros isn’t all that composed, either. He kisses his way up my body and then his mouth is on mine, ramping me up despite the intense wave of exhaustion the last orgasm brought.
Maybe I’m not that tired, after all.
I push on his shoulders, and for a moment I think he’ll ignore my unspoken demand. He finally leverages himself up and looks down at me. “What?”
What?
He’s just shattered me to pieces half a dozen times and that’s the first thing he says to me?
I almost laugh. I might if I could draw in the breath. “My turn.” I shove on his shoulders again.
“No.” He frowns. If his breathing wasn’t just as ragged as mine, I’d think he was unaffected. But then, there’s no ignoring the hard cock pressed against me, even if he shows no signs of trying to do anything with it. Eros shakes his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “You don’t have to.”
My heart gives an almost painful lurch. Eros is always the fixer, the one taking charge and handling things. It’s a role he’s obviously embraced in every part of his life. But now he’s looking at me with this strangely vulnerable expression in his blue eyes, almost confused at the idea that I might want to take care of him, too.
I lick my lips. “I want to. Stop being stubborn and let me suck your cock.” I shove on his shoulder again, and this time, he lets me push him onto his back.
“With an offer that sweet, how am I supposed to resist?” The words are right. The tone is close. But the way he watches me move to kneel between his thighs…
There’s no distance between us now. It’s ceased to exist.
If I’m not careful, what I fear most will come to pass. I’ll start to believe the pretty lie about this thing between us, rather than the stark truth.
Worry about it later.
I pull my hair back and wrap a fist around his cock. He’s long and has a delicious curve that I enjoyed an extreme amount last night. He’s also so hard, he’s practically throbbing. “Poor baby,” I murmur. “This looks like it hurts.”
“You could say that.” He doesn’t move, but the tendons stand out in his neck.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” My first taste of him makes me giddy. No, it makes me drunk. Is this what he feels when he goes down on me? No wonder he was famished this morning.
I lick my way down Eros’s cock, savoring every inch of him. Savoring his reaction even more. Every muscle in his body looks carved from stone, as if he’s straining to hold perfectly still, to submit to my mouth and not take control of this interaction. It’s breathtakingly sexy to feel this powerful.
But I don’t want his restraint. Later, maybe—when reality sets in and brings regret and a determination to protect my soft emotional center—but not right now. How far will he allow me to push him before his control shatters?
There’s only one way to find out.
19
Eros
This woman is going to kill me. I’m trying so fucking hard to respect the boundaries she put in place, to play this slow until I can seduce her the way she deserves, can prove to her that she has nothing to fear from me, and Psyche is over here, playing her tongue along my cock, her hazel eyes flaring in a challenge it takes everything I have not to meet.
For a woman who claims we only feel desire for each other as a side effect of stress, she certainly watches me like she wants me to drag her up my body and fuck her until neither of us can walk right.
Again.
I don’t wrap her hair around my fist the way I want to. I can’t trust myself right now. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“We’ve already established that on multiple levels.” She gives me a slow smile and drags the head of my cock over her full lips. The softest touch that has me fighting not to come on the spot.
“Psyche.” I can’t keep the warning from my tone. Can’t keep the growl out, either.
Her only response is to part her lips and swallow me down. Gods, I might be destined for Tartarus, but the pure pleasure in this moment makes it almost worth it. Who cares what the afterlife brings when I’m being treated to this slice of perfection right now?
Psyche doesn’t let me sink into the moment. She releases me and flicks her tongue against the sensitive spot at the head of my cock. She’s watching me so closely, I can’t shake the feeling that she’s trying to provoke me.
I want her to. Fuck, I’m enjoying my time with her more than I could have dreamed. She challenges me at every turn, and I didn’t anticipate how much I’d come to crave that.
But I promised. “Either suck my cock properly or I’m going to do something we both regret.”
“That would be a shame.” She holds my gaze as she drags her tongue down my length like she’s licking a melting ice cream cone. “Such a shame if you lost control.”
She doesn’t know what she’s asking for.
I don’t know if I can resist giving it to her despite that.
I move slowly, giving her plenty of time to react, and wrap my fist around the long length of her hair. “Last chance.”
She flicks her tongue against my balls and I lose it. I drag her up my body. Too rough. Too fucking rough. Not that Psyche seems to care. She practically throws herself at my mouth, kissing me with none of the teasing she exhibited during that blow job.
I roll, toppling her back to the bed, and thrust against her. Some dark part of me wants to take her up on the invitation of her lifted hips, her thighs spreading to welcome me. It would be the most natural thing in the world to slip inside her now, to fuck her without anything between us.
Stop.
I manage to muscle down the desire, but only barely. “Do not move.”
“Better hurry then.” She slides a hand between our bodies and wraps her fist around my cock. “I’m needy.”
Shock stills me. I hold perfectly still as she rubs her pussy against my length. The woman is playing chicken with my control. “Psyche.”
She shivers. “I really, really like it when you say my name like that.”
“You wouldn’t if you recognized what it meant.” I lower myself onto her, letting my weight pin her in place and keep either of us from doing something unforgivably reckless. Gods, she feels good. Arching and straining and writhing against me. I have to close my eyes to focus. “If you knew what I wanted—”