Electric Idol(Dark Olympus #2)(41)

Fuck me. She tastes even better here than she does everywhere else. I slide my hands up her legs and grip her thighs, pushing them wider. More. I need so much more…

I drag myself back from the edge in time to grab my phone. Psyche props herself up on her elbows and looks down her body at me. Does she like the view from up there as much as I like it from down here? Hard to say. She frowns. “What are you doing?”

“Setting a timer.”

She blinks. “Why?”

“Because I’m about to get distracted eating you out and I don’t want to make the jeweler wait.”

Another of those slow, shocked blinks. “Eros, the jeweler won’t be here for forty minutes.”

“I know.” I curse softly. “It’s not nearly enough time.”

Then there’s no more time for talking. I want to feel her coming all over my face and I want it now. Psyche is stubborn, so I want to make this so good, she’ll forget why she tried to put a limit on this. Or that’s the plan.

Any plan goes right out the window at my second taste of her. She tenses, but then seems to give herself over to sensation. Between one breath and the next, her legs fall open and she has her hands in my hair again. Giving herself to me. Trusting me to make her feel good. It’s a heady feeling to have all of Psyche at my disposal.

I watch her closely as I work her with my tongue, exploring her slowly while I figure out what she likes. She’s not quiet about what she enjoys, which is a delight to discover. She has no problem tugging on my hair to guide me to her clit or moaning and whimpering when I land on a slow vertical stroke with the flat of my tongue. I keep doing it, building her up to an orgasm that has her shaking and damn near ripping my hair out of my head. I relish the sting, the clear loss of control.

I keep my gaze on her flushed body as I move down to pepper light kisses and love bites on her inner thighs. She’s completely relaxed right now, but I still have time left and no interest in stopping until the alarm sounds. I work my way back up her thighs, intensifying my touch, and then lift my head so I can part her pussy with my fingers.

She’s so wet, I have to tighten the chain on my control. I want in, want it so bad I’m shaking more than she did when she came all over my face. My cock is painfully hard, and I’m not even remotely ashamed to have a small wet spot on the front of my pants from the pre-come. Of course I do. This woman hits all of my buttons. It’d be so easy to reach down and undo my pants, to wrap my fist around my cock and jack myself.

Too bad I don’t trust myself enough to do it, no matter the relief it would bring. I have to keep my pants on. No exceptions.

I lick my lips, tasting her there, and push two fingers into her pussy. She gasps and arches her back, and I nearly orgasm on the spot from the way she clamps around me. And then it doesn’t matter because she’s coming again, milking my fingers in a way I’d kill to have her milk my cock.

Soon.

The alarm goes off long before I’m ready to stop, but I manage to lift my head. I crawl up her body and catch her mouth. She clings to me as I kiss her, and for a moment, I actually consider ignoring the alarm to keep this going.

No. Damn it, no. We have a plan; we have to stick to it. Too much is riding on us pulling this off for us to let lust get the best of us before we’re able to actually speak our vows. Reluctantly, I break the kiss.

Psyche makes a sound of protest and tries to pull me back down to her. “More.”

“The jeweler.”

She goes still. It’s amazing to see her pull herself together, putting away her desire and focusing on the endgame. Her body tenses and then relaxes. Her grip on my hair loosens. She can’t quite banish the heavy-lidded look from her eyes, but she manages to smooth out her expression a bit. Slowly, oh so slowly, she removes her fingers from my hair. “Right. The jeweler. We need rings for the ceremony.” Her voice is only a little ragged now. She recovered so quickly, far faster than I’m able to.

“Yes.”

She licks her lips. “Then you should probably get off me.”

It’s only then that I realize I’m still pressing her into the mattress. She cradles me between her thighs, her heels locked at the small of my back. “If you want me to get off of you, you should probably release me.”

I like the way she blushes. I like it a lot.

It still takes far too much control to move off her, and then it only gets worse because I can see her again. If a normal Psyche is a temptation I’ll never be able to resist, a pleasure-sated Psyche is like mainlining the most addictive drug on the planet. I want her again, as soon as possible, as many times as we can manage before our bodies give out.

I take a step back, and then another. “I’m going to change.”

“Good idea,” she says faintly, her gaze on the front of my pants. “I should get dressed.”

“Yes.”

We stare at each other for a long moment, the tension building into an almost visible thing. It feels like she’s hooked a magnet up to my gut—or, more accurately, my cock—and it’s pulling me in her direction even now. We break at the same time, me heading for the closet and Psyche darting out the door in the direction of the spare bedroom.

It’s only once I change into clean clothing and have my shit put back together that I can admit the truth. She might not want to get entangled, but it’s pretty damn clear that I already am. I’ve never been that close to losing control before, not with any of my other partners. But then, she’s proven again and again in the short time we’ve spent together that Psyche Dimitriou isn’t like anyone else in Olympus. No wonder my mother wanted to extinguish her bright light. She’s smart and savvy and far too good for a man like me.