Innocence (Tales of Olympus #1)(36)

He reached for his belt buckle. Cora’s eyes were wide before, but now they swallowed up her face, flashing white. Her entire body shuddered. Oh gods, why had she let him tie her up? Stupid.

But she’d believed he loved her.

He never said it. So why did you think it?

Because he asked her to marry him! What other reason could he have had? Apparently revenge for crimes committed more than a decade ago that she hadn’t even known about.

“You told me you’d take care of me.” Her voice was small, plaintive.

“I did.” His deep voice dripped promise. “I will.”

“Please,” she gasped, knowing it was pathetic to beg but still unable to believe there was nothing of the Marcus who’d held and kissed her so tenderly left inside the cruel man sitting before her now. “Don’t touch me.”

“No?” His lips twisted. “You don’t want me to touch you?”

“No.” But he was touching her, barely, stroking the side of her breast. It felt so good. She never wanted him to stop. “You want me to stop?” he asked as if reading her mind.

“I—”

“You like it when I touch you.”

Her thighs pressed together. She whimpered. His fingers never stopped stroking, stroking…

“Admit it,” his voice deepened, rolling over her senses. The room fell away.

“I’m going to touch you whenever I want, wife. And you’re going to like it.”

“But...you hate me.” She was ashamed of how her voice cracked. And even more ashamed that she was leaning into his touch. But he was so familiar. And his touch felt like a comfort, even now.

“Hate never stopped anyone from feeling pleasure.”

Cora’s eyebrows knitted together. What did that mean?

Marcus’s dark hair brushed her belly. He dipped down over her body, and as if the last terrible fifteen minutes had never happened, he kissed down her stomach again. His cologne washed over her, smooth and sweet.

Her elbows and knees softened, her stomach flip flopping. Cora stared at his shining head. His mouth was warm on her cool flesh and then his hands were there, gripping her hips like she loved so much. Oh gods.

She couldn’t help the noise that escaped her throat and he paused.

“You gonna fight me, angel?”

She should fight. She should shout ‘yes’ and try to wrench out of her bonds, do whatever it took to escape.

But his tongue touched the smooth plane of her stomach and something inside her snapped. She wasn’t prepared for it and her muscles clenched at the sudden shocking rush of pleasure. Golden liquid gushed through her, pouring from her belly and filling up her pulsing center until it overflowed. She felt her own moisture on her legs and her face flamed with embarrassment.

“I guess not,” Marcus chuckled. He pulled back and she knew he was admiring the wetness flooding the space between her legs. “Shame. I would’ve enjoyed a fight.”

Tears immediately cascaded down Cora’s cheeks.

His fingers trailed over her pale skin, bringing a rosy flush to her chest. They trailed down, over her quivering belly to sink into the wetness. Cora gasped and tugged at the wrist bands. Marcus’s eyes narrowed, but he kept stroking her. Her hips rose, jerking in time to his come-hither movement.

“You know, you can stop this at any moment.”

What? Was he serious?

He twisted a finger in her virgin hole. Her feet dug into the bed and her abs tensed as she lifted herself into his hand. Her body pulsed around his fingers as he cupped her.

“Just tell me. Say, ‘stop.’”

What was his game? She could stop at any moment? She could—

“Stop,” she mouthed but no sound came out.

His fingers stilled but her hips kept rocking. Cora clenched her teeth. She wanted him to touch her. She wanted...

Marcus raised a brow. She whimpered. Her hips tilted in invitation.

“Poor wife. So confused. Do you want me to touch you? Do you want me to kiss it better?”

To Cora’s horror, she nodded.

Marcus bent his head to taste her. Her legs spasmed, her body sighing into his mouth.

Stop, she screamed in her head. Stop. But when she opened her mouth, still no sound came out. His mouth worked over her mound, detouring to her slick thighs, nuzzling her labia, nipping at them with his teeth. She stayed silent, other than her moans.

What was happening? He’d given her an out. Why hadn’t she taken it? He hated her. He’d only married her to get revenge. But his caresses, his kisses, they didn’t feel hateful. They felt familiar. They felt like Marcus. The man she… The man she loved.

That man’s not real. He never was.

But for a second, she wanted to pretend. She wanted to pretend that he’d never said all those awful things. She wanted to pretend this was their wedding night as it always should have been, and he was kissing and worshipping her because he adored her.

So when he kissed lower and urged her thighs open, she let him.

His mouth touched her most intimate place. She squealed in shock and shame and— And pleasure.

“Marcus,” she murmured, meaning to ask him to stop.

But he began to suckle at the top of her sex and his finger dropped to explore, teasing at places she herself had never touched.

She never even used tampons, so to feel someone—and not just someone, to feel Marcus, oh gods—