Innocence (Tales of Olympus #1)(61)

For a long moment, she froze. Here it was. The crawling. But as she watched him, she saw it for what it really was: a choice.

To do it meant to submit to him completely. Voluntarily. To crawl not because he’d shoved her forcefully to her knees but because she wanted all he had to give her.

And in the end, the choice felt so simple.

She sank to her knees. Because this final decision meant she didn’t have to do any more deciding or worrying or justifying. Life shrank down and became so simple.

“Yes, beautiful. Gods, you’ve never been more beautiful. Come to me now.”

All tension left her, body and mind, as she gave herself over to him. The storm in her head finally quieted.

She wanted it and she didn’t have to be ashamed anymore. She wanted his eyes on her slinking form, her swaying hips. She wanted to seduce and delight him. And the way he looked at her…like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, his face the picture of a man obsessed. Yes, gods, yes. Nothing had ever been more right.

She crawled eagerly.

“There,” he murmured when she reached him, positioning her so her chin was high and back arched, pushing her bottom in the air. Her body shuddered at the touch of his hand as it ghosted across her backside. “All the way to the bedroom, goddess.”

So she crawled, ass swaying, eyes lifting occasionally to see Marcus’s glowing gaze tracking her progress, all the way to the bed.

She’d barely gotten there when he was reaching down and tugging her to her feet.

“It’s time for your reward.” His voice sounded strained like he could barely manage to get the words out.

But the next second he was back in control of himself, always in control. He loosened his tie, stripping with smooth movements. He shucked his shoes, shirt, pants and boxers and paused, unwittingly posing in the half light. He was naked and she was lost because here was a god in human form.

Wide shoulders, strong chest tapering to lean hips, powerful thighs. Either he worked out every morning or performed some magic to make his muscles strong and sleek, even and well formed. He could’ve been a statue carved by a master, but at the sight of him a sculptor would lay down his tools and weep at the perfection that defied reality.

Yet for all his otherworldly beauty, he looked like a man, coarse hair dusting his hard thighs and chest. He looked like a ruler of old. He only needed a crown. If the people wouldn’t give him one, he’d take it.

And he was hers. He said she belonged to him, but it went both ways, right? He could’ve handed her over to an underling, or made Sharo punish her. But he would never allow another man to touch her. He wanted her for himself. She’d wanted a sign that she meant something to him—was it here all along, inherent in his possessive nature?

She could only hope. Because she was becoming lost to him.

“Lie back and spread your legs.”

She wanted him inside her now. She wanted to throw her arms and legs around him and grind their bodies together. She wanted him frantic with need for her, to know for certain that he was as lost as she was.

But instead she did as he said, laying back on the bed and opening eagerly to him.

He took his time arranging her, pulling her to the edge of the bed, angling her legs just right. Gods damn his control. But it was all worth it when he finally climbed over her.

“Hands above your head.”

She lifted her hands. Anything to move him along. But she should have known that nothing could hurry Marcus. That was the point, wasn’t it? For her to give in to him completely. His way. In his time.

And when he finally, finally entered her, the first slow drag of his cock had her right at the edge again, her previously denied orgasm revving right back up.

He pushed into her and she held her breath, her body tightening. Everything in her focused on the slow, fluid glide of his cock entering her, easing the ache and stoking it at the same time. She lay there quivering, an empty vessel waiting to be filled.

Her legs and back tensed, nipples hardening and toes curling as Marcus's thrusts drove her towards orgasm. He moved over her, the snap of his hips driving her further up the bed. She caught his shoulders, gripping and petting the bunching muscle, such magnificent power under her palms.

He paused and slipped his hands under her bottom, large palms cupping her back cheeks and drawing her close. The new angle made his pubic bone graze her clit and she bit back a moan. Fuck, she was close, her climax like a freight train, rushing towards her, an inexorable force about to hit—

He stopped. Pulled out. Stepped back and surveyed her heaving flesh like a piece of furniture.

“Marcus. Please.”

He took himself in hand, fisting his cock with her own slick as lubricant. He watched her with hooded eyes. “Touch yourself. Pull your nipples.”

She plucked at her breasts, obeying instantly. Anything to bring him back. Anything.

Pleasure surged through her, but it wasn’t enough. Without Marcus, it would never be enough.

“Punishment,” he reminded her, and horror bloomed over her. He was taunting her, touching her, teasing her. He’d fuck her forever and never let her cum. He knew her body and mastered it.

“Please,” she whispered. “I need it.” He didn’t chastise her so she continued. “I need you. Marcus, please.”

“All fours.”

He’d barely given the command before she scrambled into place. Head up, back arched, bottom upturned, just like he’d taught her. The bed creaked under his weight and then—