Electric Idol (Dark Olympus 2)

“What?” She tries to free her hands, but I’m having none of it. If she grabs my ass like she did last night, sinking her nails in, this will all be over far too soon.

I nip her earlobe. “You might belong to yourself, but I think the same dirty little part of you that wants me to fuck you hard also wants me to claim you.” I slide slowly out of her and then back in, teasing. “I think you want me to remind this pussy who it belongs to.”

“It’s temporary.” She might be trying to sound assertive, but it almost comes out as a question.

“Temporary or not, you’re mine, Psyche.” I use my hold on her wrists to leverage myself up a little, pressing them hard to the mattress. “Do you want to see how I fuck someone who’s mine?”

“Yes,” she moans.

I don’t ask again. I loop one arm under her thigh and open her wider for me. And then I hold her down and fuck her. There’s no finesse. No seduction. It’s pure animal instinct, the desire to claim, the need to make her mine in a way I’ve never made anyone mine. Not once.

I release one of her wrists. “Touch your clit. Make yourself come.”

“I’m already halfway there.” But she does exactly as I command, sliding her hand down her soft stomach to circle her clit.

I slow down just enough that I can watch myself slide in and out of her, witness this claiming in the most archaic of ways. Maybe I’ll regret this later and I’ll want to take it all back. But right now, the only thing I desire is to feel Psyche’s pussy clenching around my cock as she comes.

She doesn’t make me wait long.

Her back bows and she nearly dislodges my grip on her wrist as she orgasms. I don’t break stride. I drop down onto her, rutting away even as unforgivable words spill out of me. Needing to reassure her with my body in a way she’ll never allow me to reassure her with my words alone. “Do you feel that, Psyche? I’m the one who makes you feel that way. I’ll do it again, whenever you need me. Again and again and again.” Forever.

At least I keep the last bit internal. Barely.

I come hard, grinding into her as I milk every last bit of pleasure. Too good. It’s too damn good with this woman. It’s never been like this with anyone else—man, woman, nonbinary. I’ve had partners aplenty and it’s always been fun and mutually satisfactory. I’ve never had a problem keeping my leash in place.

Sex is great. It’s always been great. But with Psyche, it feels like the axis of my world has shifted. I don’t like it. If I were smarter, I’d call this whole thing off and ship this woman out of Olympus. Triton is someone who knows how to pull that off. He owes me a few favors, and I’d have to call in every single one of them in order to book passage. It’s not an easy ask, but it’s the best way to ensure Psyche’s safety and get her as far away from me as possible.

If she stays here, stays with me, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ll smother her kind heart in a way she’ll never recover from.

But as she stretches next to me and makes a little contented noise, I already know I’m not going to send her away. I’m too fucking selfish.

Psyche is mine.

She just doesn’t know it yet.

I manage to drag myself off her long enough to dispose of the condom. I make it quick because I’m not about to leave this bed before we absolutely have to. Thankfully, I fucked Psyche damn near comatose. She rolls slowly to face me as I climb back into bed. “I have a question.”

Okay, she’s not comatose. I barely manage to resist the urge to kiss her and derail whatever her question is. The truth is that I kind of want to know. “Yes?”

Her gaze trails down my chest before she drags it back to my face. “Is it always like this with you?”

I relax down next to her. “Is what always like this?” I know exactly what she’s asking, but I want to hear her say it, to put voice to something I’m barely ready to admit to myself.

We’re spinning out and in the depths together.

“Don’t play coy, Eros. It doesn’t suit you.” Her lips quirk, which only serves to remind me what they were doing not too long ago. “This. Sex. Is it always like this with you?”

“I’m going to need you to be more specific.”

“No, you aren’t. You’re just fishing for compliments.” She reaches out as if she can’t quite help herself and tugs on one of my curls. Finally, she says, “Is it always so intense? So…overwhelming?”