Innocence (Tales of Olympus #1)(37)

And the things he was doing with his mouth—

Cora heaved shocked gasps, in and out, tossing her head back and forth because it was the only part of her body she could actually move. She grasped onto the silk scarves. She needed something to hold onto, something to ground herself as the wild, shocking sensations rose higher and higher—

Oh gods, she didn’t know what to do with— If this didn’t— Where was this all going—

“Ohhhhh!” Her squeal faded to a high-pitched whine as pleasure rocked her body, as suddenly as if she’d been shocked by a jolt of electricity. She felt it to the tips of her toes as her legs went rigid. For two counts of her heartbeat, it was all perfect.

And then it was over and Marcus was crawling up her body.

She blinked back to the moment, trying to get her bearings.

Marcus. Who wasn’t her beloved after all. Who’d only married her for revenge.

But would he still make love to her now?

He was straddling her body and she could see his…his sexual member. He’d pulled it out of his pants. Veins stood out on the long shaft. It was darker than the rest of his body and pulsing.

And it was huge. Huge.

Was he going to try to stick that inside her?

Even as horrible as things stood between them, with the way he’d made her feel, would she object?

Yes, her mind said. Her heart on the other hand… It was pathetic, she knew, to want any part of this terrible man. And yet—

But Marcus wasn’t trying to stick it in her, it looked like.

No, he was taking his long, thick shaft in hand and rubbing it up and down. Ruthlessly. Viciously.

Cora should look away, she knew.

But she’d never seen one. And to see Marcus so naked, not literally but figuratively— She looked up his taut stomach and into his face, only to find him looking down at her.

She couldn’t read what she saw in the half-second before he lowered his gaze to her breasts. Cora didn’t look away, though. She continued watching his face as he pleasured himself.

He gave himself over to it, that much was clear. In this one thing, at least, he either didn’t bother with keeping up his mask or he simply couldn’t. Cora saw a million things in the vulnerable, longing scrunch of his brow—or at least she thought she did.

It made the pleasure that had barely subsided in her rear up again. Her hips jerked involuntarily, looking for friction. But Marcus was too far away, all but straddling her breasts.

He continued to work himself for several more moments and then threw his head back.

Cora’s face jerked down when warm wetness splashed her chest. She looked on in astonishment as spurts of white cream erupted from the head of his huge shaft as he tugged it more mercilessly than ever.

When he’d finally emptied himself, he looked down at her, his chest heaving. He reached down and rubbed his seed all over her breasts, squeezing her nipples as he went.

Cora shuddered, so turned on and shocked by the entire thing. Did people normally do this in bed or did Marcus see this as some sort of punishment? It all felt so good.

Marcus climbed off the bed. “You like that, don’t you? Then make sure to smile for the camera.”

“Wha—?”

But Marcus was already snapping pictures with his phone. Pictures of her naked body, smeared with his—with his—

The blood left her face. “You said you wouldn’t!”

“Na?ve little Cora. All’s fair in love and war.”

“Really I don’t even need this.” He dropped the phone on to the bedside table. With a dark smirk, he pointed to the corner where two walls met the ceiling and held a dark shape of a second camera, its tiny bright eye blinking red. “Video makes so much more impact than photos, don’t you think?”

Cora bit her lip, unwilling to give him anything after how cruel he’d just been to her. He laughed, and it wasn’t a nice laugh. This really wasn’t her Marcus. That man had truly never existed.

If she needed any more proof, him leaving her all alone in the room, tied up with his seed drying on her chest certainly did the trick.





Ten





Marcus stood in the small dark closet he used as his security room, sipped his drink and stared at nothing. On screen, his new bride struggled in her bonds. Her beautiful hair fell over her face, a sheaf of wheat spilling over the pale palette of unmarked skin.

He’d just cum, but he was harder than ever, ready to conquer, to plunder. She was right where he wanted her, bound and helpless, a virgin offered up as a sacrifice to appease a monster. Which she was—a virgin and a sacrifice.

And he, the monster.

She didn’t deserve this. The second his Shades had spotted her, he’d had them monitor her every move. She didn’t so much as sneeze without him knowing. She looked like her mother, but acted nothing like Demi.

He had to see it to believe it. But at first he couldn’t stand to look at her. He sent Sharo instead, Sharo, whom he regarded as a brother.

“Well?” he’d asked when the big man returned to report. “What’s she like?”

“Kind. Naive, but hopeful. Sweet.” Sharo didn’t have to say it, but Marcus heard the silent commentary. Just like Chiara.

The gods gifted him the perfect revenge, wrapped up in a lovely package. So lovely, he didn’t want to destroy it. How the gods must be laughing. He had the means for revenge but, for the first time in sixteen years he didn’t want to take it.