Neon Gods (Dark Olympus 1)

Even without looking, I can feel the sexual tension in the room heightening. But I do look. I survey the room while Persephone fights to take my cock into her throat, seeing those who look on the scene with lust and those who appear almost worried.

I hate it.

Every other time I’ve done a scene like this, it’s been to build another layer to the myth of Hades, to add to the reputation that I am a man not to be fucked with. They’ve looked at me with fear before, and it’s never bothered me because their fear serves a purpose. Persephone isn’t just some anonymous partner playing a role before she drifts back to her normal life. It doesn’t matter that she needs this scene, needs the end result as much as I do. The thought that they think I’m tarnishing Zeus’s fiancée purely for revenge sits like broken glass in my chest.

The fact that they believe that something as earthy and natural as sex can tarnish a person only drives those shards deeper.

Her fingers dig into my thighs and I jerk my gaze from the room to Persephone. She moves off my cock enough to say. “Stay with me, Hades. We’re the only ones who matter tonight.”

She’s right. I know she’s right. I close my eyes for a breath, two, and open them. The only one in this room who matters is kneeling between my legs, staring up at me with hazel eyes gone so hot, it’s a wonder we both don’t combust on the spot. She’s a beautiful mess and knowing that she allowed it for me? That’s some intoxicating shit.

“I’m here.” I clear my suddenly tight throat. “I’m with you.”

She smiles and takes my cock back into her mouth, resuming driving me out of my mind with pleasure. I don’t try to hold out. Not when Persephone is sucking me so sweetly, not when she’s turned this into something just for us instead of a show for them. I swipe my thumbs over her cheeks, catching her tears. “I’m almost there.” A warning and a promise. She immediately picks up her pace, sucking my cock like her redemption is on the other side of this orgasm.

I let go. The entire rooms shrinks down to her and me, and pleasure takes over. She swallows me down as I come, sucking me until I have to nudge her off my cock. Persephone licks her lips and gives me a happy smile. “I really, really love seeing you undone like that.”

I really, really love you.

Somehow, I keep the words inside. I can’t tell her that without chaining her to me, without ruining everything. But… I can show her. I can give her a gift in return for everything she’s given me over the last few weeks, cumulating in this scene. This woman doesn’t deserve to be on her knees. She deserves to be worshipped. She deserves to be on the throne as my equal.

I intend to put her there.

I tuck myself back into my pants. “Up.”

She must expect to end up back in my lap, because her eyes go wide when I move and nudge her onto the chair I just occupied. Onto the throne. Her brows draw together, but I don’t give her a chance to question me. I simply go to my knees before her.

Her eyes go wide. “Hades, what are you doing?”

For a moment, I can only stare up at her. Her dress spills over her legs and down to the floor, the dark throne behind her and careful lighting giving her blond hair a halo effect. Even with her makeup less than perfect, there’s no denying the power vibrating from every cell of her being. I thought she looked like a queen before, but I was fucking wrong.

She’s a goddamn goddess.

Chapter 24

Persephone

I can’t deal with looking at the rest of the room, so I focus entirely on the man kneeling at my feet. Doesn’t he understand how unnatural this is? Yes, he’s been on his knees before me before, but it was different then. Private, just between us. No matter our positions, there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s dominant down to his very soul. He’s never actually submitted to me.

He’s not doing it now, either.

But it looks like he is, which is all that matters to the people witnessing. They’re watching Hades of the Thirteen kneel at the feet of a woman sitting in his throne. I thought we were marking me as his and his alone, but this doesn’t fit that plan.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

“Paying tribute.”

The words don’t make sense, but he doesn’t give me time to comprehend. He catches the hem of my dress and strokes his hands up my legs, taking the fabric with him. Baring my calves and knees and thighs and finally bunching my dress around my hips.