“Sounds like a plan.”
He shakes his head again. “Not yet,” he repeats. Eros coasts his hands up my thighs, pressing them wide, continuing his path until he reaches my pussy. He presses two fingers into me and curses. “You’re so fucking wet.”
“You do that to me,” I gasp, arching my back as he twists his wrist and strokes his fingertips against my G-spot. “More!”
“I’ll give you more, Wife. I’ll give you everything you need.” He doesn’t pick up his pace, though, and when I try to dig my heels into the ground to lift my hips, he plants a hand on my lower stomach to keep me exactly where he wants me. It feels so good, and it’s only made hotter by how closely he watches me.
Eros turns his head. “Look.”
I follow his gaze to find our reflections in the mirror. It’s sexy to have him kneeling over me, strumming my pleasure higher and higher, but seeing it as if someone else were watching us? I almost combust on the spot. And then Eros starts circling my clit with his thumb and I do combust.
He barely lets me finish coming before he guides me onto my stomach and then up onto my hands and knees. “I see you have a bit of an exhibitionist streak.” He strokes a hand down my spine and I moan in response. “Or it is a voyeuristic streak?”
“Both.” I lift my head to watch him shift behind me, his hands finding my hips and urging me into the position he wants me. I can’t catch my breath, but I don’t care. “But only with you. Only like this.” A show performed and witnessed by only us.
“Good.” The word is almost a growl. “I don’t want to share you, beautiful girl.”
“I don’t want to share you, either.” Not any part of this. Not with anyone else.
He closes his eyes for a beat. “Last chance, Psyche. Are you sure?”
No need to ask what he means. “No condom,” I confirm.
Eros doesn’t ask again. He shifts forward, guiding his cock to my entrance. I hold perfectly still, staring at the tormented expression on his face as he sinks into me, inch by inch. “You’re so beautiful,” I whisper.
He laughs a little, the sound choked. “It’s only…” He drags in a breath. “I feel like it’s the truth when you look at me like that.”
“It is the truth.”
He reclaims my hips and begins moving, sliding in and out of me in long, smooth strokes. It feels so good, I can barely keep my eyes open, wouldn’t be able to if not for the show we’re putting on for an audience of two. Eros puts every muscle on his impressive body to use, all with the intention of bringing me the most amount of pleasure. Before I can fully sink into the rhythm of his thrusts, he bends to brace one hand on the floor next to mine, and slides his other down my stomach to stroke my clit. “Dirty girl,” he murmurs against my skin. “You complain about all the mirrors as if you don’t get off on me fucking you in front of them.”
I moan and arch my back, angling my hips to take him even deeper. “I suppose…” He picks up his pace, and I lose my breath. “I could be convinced…about the mirrors…to like them.”
“You’re a gift, Psyche Dimitriou. A fucking gift.” He kisses my shoulder, my neck, the sensitive spot behind my ear. All while he keeps up those devastating little circles over my clit, the equally devastating strokes deep inside me.
I try to hold out. I truly do. I won’t want this to end, don’t want this perfect moment to fade back into reality and all the problems waiting for us.
My body has other ideas.
I cry out as I come hard, clamping around him. Eros curses as if I’ve surprised him and picks up his pace, driving into me until his strokes become uneven and he follows me over the edge.
He slumps down half on top of me. He’s heavy, but I like it. It feels like he’s continuing to anchor me to the here and now even as we relearn how to breathe.
Eros brushes my hair off my face. “Did I hurt you?”
My knees already ache in time with my racing heart. It’s perfect. I leverage myself up enough to kiss him. “Thank you.”
Something in him relaxes, and my pleasure-drugged brain realizes that he was actually worried this had somehow been too much. I reach up before I can find a reason not to. My fingers find his hair, and the little smile he gives me makes my heart lurch. I lick my lips. “I meant it about the mirrors. You’ve convinced me that they’re an asset.”
“I knew you’d come around.” He turns his head and kisses my wrist. We lie like that for a long moment before he finally looks at his watch and grimaces. “Can you feel your legs yet? We need to get moving if we’re not going to be late.”
That pulls a laugh from me. “So arrogant.”
“Is it arrogance if it’s the truth?”
I’m still grinning as he climbs to his feet and pulls me up with him. “Yes. But don’t stop. I like it.”
27
Eros
We meet Zeus in Dodona Tower.
It’s a bit of a head trip. The last time I was here for a meeting, it was with the last Zeus. I’ve been around long enough to see several of the Thirteen switch people behind the titles, but part of me believed that old fucker would live forever. I know Perseus felt the same way; he was sure he’d have at least another decade before Zeus finally did us all a favor and kicked the bucket.
No one expected him to take a header out of his office window a few months ago.
Thankfully, the office where we meet Perseus—Zeus—isn’t that same office. It’s the one he’s been working from for years now, ever since he took over most of the day-to-day tasks of running his father’s company. His company now.
I glance at Psyche. No matter how unconventional, having sex in front of all those mirrors seems to have steadied the ground beneath her feet. She’s lost the wild look in her eyes and has her public persona firmly in place. Calm, cool, and collected. The only evidence of her nerves is her white-knuckled grip on my hand.
I’m not like her. I’m shit at comforting. I’ve never had to do it before, never had to search for the right words to say. Fuck, I’ve never wanted to. She gave me such a gift earlier that I can do nothing but try. “It will be okay.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“Perseus isn’t Zeus.”
She looks at me. “That’s the thing, Eros. Perseus is Zeus. He might have been your friend up to this point, but now he’s essentially the king of Olympus. That changes a person.”
I know that. Of course I know that. But part of me rebels at it all the same. I was never as close to Perseus as I am to Helen or even Eris. I still know him.
“Let’s go in.” I open the door for her and hold it while she precedes me into the office. It looks nearly identical to every other office in this building. Steel, marble, glass, and little else. Perseus sits behind his massive desk, his fingers steepled in front of his mouth. He’s always been a handsome fucker, and he won’t thank me for saying it, but he really does have the look of his father. Athletic body, strong square jaw, golden-blond hair, the same cold blue eyes.
He motions to the chairs in front of the desk, and I wait for Psyche to sit before I take the empty one. Perseus looks between us before finally settling on me. “It’s been two months since my father died. You couldn’t have resisted started starting shit for longer?”
“You know me. I like to stir the pot.” I relax back into the chair and give him an arrogant grin. “But in this case, if you want to start pointing fingers, you can take it up with Aphrodite.”
“And yet I’m here, taking it up with you.” He shoots a look at Psyche. “I don’t suppose you were aware that your mother and I were negotiating for a marriage between you and me?”