Medusa, A Love Story (Loves of Olympus 1)
He smiled brightly at her, her instant scowl lightening his spirits. But not enough.
“You’re vexed?” Ares regarded him over the rim of his goblet.
Poseidon sighed, leaning against the back of his chair with practiced insolence. He shrugged but said nothing.
Aphrodite watched him too, he knew. And he was aware of her, the sway of her hips, as she made her way towards them. His loins tightened instantly.
“You found no pleasure with Sappho?” Aphrodite’s voice rippled over him.
He stared at her, not bothering to disguise his hunger for her. “I did not.”
Ares chuckled. “From the gash on your brow and the bruise on your throat, I’d like to meet this Sappho.”
“No Nereid would behave such a way.” Aphrodite leaned forward, inspecting Poseidon’s face with concern. “Who dared to cross swords with you?”
Ares snorted. “Poseidon has no use for a sword. I’ve never seen one in your hand.” Ares shook his head. “These wounds are from fists, I think. I’ve given enough in my time.”
Aphrodite’s luminous eyes turned on Ares. “Your b
oasts of brutality are tiresome.”
Ares’ nostrils flared as he rose from his seat. He towered over Aphrodite, his body a solid wall of muscle. “I will bore you no longer.”
Poseidon watched the hulking God of War storm from the dining chamber. “You’ve upset Ares, my dear. Is that a wise move?”
Aphrodite sighed, her eyes searching his. “You mistake me, Poseidon. I am the Goddess of Love, not wisdom.” Her cheeks flushed and her lips parted beneath the heat of his gaze.
His eyes lingered on those lips, eager to sample them, before they strayed to the swell of her breasts. Her nipples grew taut, hardening beneath the fabric and issuing him an invitation he would not ignore.
He stood, the blood pulsing hotly in his ears. “Walk with me, then. I have matters to discuss which might interest you.”
He led her to the gardens. Need raged, engulfing him as he reached for her.
The silken rush of her lips against his made him moan. He’d been too long without a woman.
She wrapped her arms about him, her lips parting beneath his. She seemed just as desperate, just as hungry.
His hands gripped her hips, lifting her as he bore her back against a column. She groaned, pushing his chiton out of the way to grasp his bare buttocks. He was eager to accommodate her, thrusting her skirts above her hips before settling himself between her legs.
Her hands tangled in his hair and her legs wrapped tightly about him as he drove into her. Again and again he filled her, exulting in the sounds of pleasure she made as he did so. It took no time for him to find his release, moaning against her neck before sagging limply against her.
She pushed him away from her, her soft face yet flushed. “And that is why you are the God of the Sea, Poseidon, selfish and fleeting. You’ve no gift for pleasing a woman.”
Poseidon cupped her cheek. “And yet, I am greatly pleased.”
She slapped his hand away, straightening her tunic with trembling hands and smoothing her tresses. “While I am left wanting. I will not keep you from…your schemes.”
Poseidon watched her retreating figure, his mood restored. He called out, teasing her. “What? Will your husband not assist you in the matter?”
She glanced back, making him flinch beneath the pain he saw. “He would more eagerly assist you, Poseidon. As well you know.” She swept from the gardens.
Poseidon sat on a nearby bench, shaking his head.
He would never love, he vowed. It brought too fleeting a pleasure for too many trials. He’d be wise to remember his cock was just as satisfied by a Goddess, a nymph, or a mortal maid. There was no purpose in sharing any more than that with any woman.
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Ariston blinked against the rain. He wiped his eyes, the sting of the ocean water cleansed by that of the rain.