Innocence (Tales of Olympus #1)(51)

He was preparing to enter her.

To enter her, enter her.

She swallowed and unwittingly, her fingertips dug into his shoulders.

But he paused, his voice strained and gravelly. “You say no right now and I stop.”

His eyes searched hers back and forth.

Say something. Tell him no. Hell fucking no. What was she even doing?

Earlier… Sucking his… That was about taking her power back. But this? Letting him… Who had the power now?

But the look on his face, gods damn him, she was right back where she’d been the moment she was walking down the aisle toward the man she loved with all her heart. His features were gentled and there was something raw in his usually hardened face.

Another manipulation.

But damn it to hell, instead of saying no, she nodded her head yes.

And he was there, pressing in at her most intimate place. Fear struck. She remembered how huge he was. He’d split her in two.

But he shook his head ever so slightly like he could sense her fear. And while he didn’t stop, no she could see he wouldn’t, couldn’t stop now that he had begun, he pushed forward slowly, carefully.

Cora felt it the moment he came up against her barrier and so did he. Cora could see it in his eyes. He didn’t stop, though, and she didn’t want him to. She nodded again and he pushed forwards. Her hip twitched and there was a sharp pinch before her flesh gave way. He sank deeper. She closed her eyes and clutched his shoulders.

“Look at me,” he demanded.

Why? Why? He knew what she was giving. She’d been a fool to think she could ever wrest any power away from this man. He was an unstoppable force and to him she was nothing but a wildflower, here today and paved over tomorrow.

“Cora, give me your eyes.”

Her throat stung as she opened her eyes. She felt the tears as they rolled down her temples and into her hair.

Marcus’s sharp eyebrows were drawn together, his huge body looming over her small one, as he worked himself inside her, inch by inch.

Her breath caught as he probed the tight fist of her inner muscles. “Easy. Open...open for me.”

Her hands clawed his back, caught his strong shoulders, and hung on.

“That’s it,” his breath tickled her ear. “Hold tight to me.”

The pressure grew. She gritted her teeth, ducking her head to hide in the curve of Marcus’s throat. He was a rock, immovable. She was the ocean, ebbing, moving around him.

Slowly her body opened, her legs softening even as the pain swam through her.

“Yes. Yes, that’s it, beautiful. Give yourself to me.”

“Marcus,” she rasped. Tremors ran through her head to toe. His hips melded with hers as he invaded her. When he stopped, fully rooted, thrills ran down her sides. Her chest rose and fell, nipples hardened to diamond points.

Marcus held himself over her, his arms taut by her face. His head was bowed, dark lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. His lips moved slightly.

If she didn’t know different, she’d guess he was praying. She felt like praying too. They were fully merged, his body towering over hers, protecting and claiming her.

This was what heaven felt like.

She’d never felt more connected to another human being.

The pain ebbed and he began to move. Slow rocks at first, nudging further into her inner sanctum, trespassing boldly. The strong ridge of his manhood rubbed a delicious part of her and Cora raised her hips, seeking more.

“Cora,” he rasped, and there was a world of possibility in her name. Her fingers passed over his face as if she were blind and wanted to memorize the cut of his features. In this room, this dark womb, she would forget all the hurt he’d done her.

“Marcus,” she turned her face up to his. He dragged his lips over her mouth, her cheek, the corner of her eye, giving her silent, bruising promises as his body reaped pleasure from hers. He made a prolonged, male sound, pushing deeper. His eyes were closed, his face intent as if he’d found something important, something beautiful he’d longed for, but never hoped to experience.

Yes, she prayed. Marcus, come back to me. He groaned again, the muscles in his back turning to steel under her stroking hands.

She felt it. For the first time, she understood how the entire act worked in harmony, every part of his body so perfectly made to bring pleasure to every part of hers.

He was made for her.

“Oh gods,” she cried out. “Oh…oh…oh! Marcus!”

Her chest thrust up and out and she clung to him, her fingers in his hair as the climax hit, bright and beautiful, and so, so right. Yes, yes. This. Him.

A thrust, two, three, and he rooted himself deep and stayed there. She held on and hoped she read the signs right.

After an eternity, he pulled out. She hissed, her insides protesting.

“You all right?” he searched her face.

“I’m good.” Her legs were noodles, her muscles overstretched. She’d be sore tomorrow.

“That was...thank you.” She shouldn’t thank her captor. But this was Marcus. He’d come back to her for a moment and for a moment, it was beautiful.

“Yes. You did well.” He parted her legs and studied the stains on the sheets. Watery blossoms, evidence of her virginity. She covered her cheeks. She shouldn’t be embarrassed, but it seemed more intimate. She’d bled for him. Her blood mingled with his seed.