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.
“Eros.” She half sits up and reaches for me. “Come here.”
“Not yet.” I haven’t taken my pants off yet. I can’t risk it. Judging from the desire pounding through my body, centering in my cock and balls, I’m not going to last once I get inside her. I want her to come again, want to feel her shatter at my hands, my tongue, a few more times before we get there.
I want to bind her to me as closely as possible, to have her crave what I can give her as much as I want to give it to her. The only way to accomplish that is by dealing her so much pleasure tonight that she turns to me when she’s feeling needy again.
If I have my way, she’ll be in a permanent state of need.
I allow her to tug me up to kiss her again. Kissing Psyche is no hardship. She doesn’t passively take what I give her. She meets me every step of the way, sparring with her tongue the same way she does with her words. A game of give-and-take and pure pleasure. I enjoy kissing. I always have. But kissing this woman could almost be the main event.
Or it could if I didn’t have her naked and writhing beneath me.
I slide down her body, pressing her large breasts together so I can tease one nipple and then the other, moving back and forth between them until she’s whimpering and arching, offering herself up for more than a taste. Only then do I shift lower, licking and nipping down the curves of her breasts to her stomach. She tenses the slightest bit, but I’m having none of it. I give this part of her the same thorough treatment I gave her breasts. Each curve, dimple, roll. I meant everything I said; she’s perfect and I’ll not be kept from any inch of her.
When I finally reach her pussy, her thighs fall open. She’s no longer trying to guide me or rush any moment of this. She’s letting me do what I want, and I fucking love it. Her trust is just as heady as her taste. Psyche is wet and practically dripping, and I waste no time in dragging my tongue up her pussy to her clit.
Gods, this woman.
Her hands find my hair on the second lick, and she tugs me up to focus on her clit. I’m only too happy to take the silent guidance, especially as her hips rise to meet my tongue. She’s moaning and grinding herself all over my mouth, and I have to force my hips still to avoid fucking against the mattress until I come in my pants.
That’s the second time today.
I might laugh if I could breathe past the need pounding in my blood. Psyche has stripped away all my art, all my finesse. The only thing that matters is delivering pleasure until she can’t take any more. Not even my pleasure ranks above that.
When she comes, it’s with the sweetest sound I’ve ever fucking heard. Her back bows and her lips part and… “Eros.”
Holy shit.
The monster inside me throws itself against its cage, rattling my entire being. She cried out my name as she orgasmed. It shouldn’t feel so profound, but there’s no denying the surge of possessiveness that stills every thought in my head except the need to get inside her and do it now. I have to press my forehead to her stomach and focus on breathing for a few moments.
It’s time.
I force myself to release her and move off the bed. She watches me with eyes gone hazy from pleasure, her desire sharpening as I shuck off my pants and grab a condom from the nightstand drawer. I crawl back onto the bed and resume my position between her thighs. It’s a struggle to think past the primal urge to stamp my presence on every inch of her, but I manage. Barely. “Let me have you, Psyche.” The words are wrong; they mean too much, reveal too much.