Goddess of Light (Goddess Summoning #3)(60)

They were undoubtedly the best waitresses Pamela had ever had. She wanted to ask Phoebus how he had managed this evening. He must have reserved the entire restaurant for their private use, which meant - amongst other things - that he must be an incredibly successful doctor. And he looked so young! She meant to ask him exactly how old his was, when was his birthday, and where had he been born - not that it really mattered. She was just curious. She should also ask him about... about... about... what? She couldn't concentrate...

... Because the food was so completely, absorbingly delicious. The taste filled her senses. It was more than food. It reminded her of summer sunlight and heat and desire... her eyes lifted from her plate to find Phoebus watching her with a sapphire intensity that made her breath catch.

"We leave you alone; for the night we retire..." the handmaidens sang. And as they faded from the room their sweet voices whispered an almost inaudible prayer: "... Intoxicate... arouse... flame their desire... fog inhibitions... set them afire."

Apollo and Pamela barely noticed the handmaidens' departure. They stared at each other, and everything else in the room, in the world, faded. Their skin tingled with growing heat and desire.

"I need you to love me," Apollo's voice was thick with lust and longing. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, where common sense still lurked, he knew his reaction to her was too raw, too uninhibited, but he couldn't stop it - he didn't want to stop it.

"Yes." She breathed the word.

With a feral, liquid movement that Pamela thought made him look like a large, tawny lion, he stood. He hurled the table separating them out of the way. Pamela realized that the table flew away from Phoebus' touch with an inhuman force, but the thought was vague and only partially formed. When he ripped off his shirt and roughly tore his pants from his body, all she could think of was her body's reaction to the guttural sound of her name on his lips and how magnificent he looked stalking towards her naked.

"Yes," she moaned again, coming off the chaise and into his arms. His mouth devoured her. She slid one hand around his shoulders, feeling his muscles tremble with the force of his desire. With her free hand she yanked her shirt over her head and then quickly unzipped her slacks, which slid fluidly from her body. Phoebus found the hook of her bra, struggling to open it.

"I can't... I need..." he groaned in frustration. "I must feel you against me." He tore the strip of lace from her back, and her br**sts came free. She rubbed them against his chest as she kissed a hot path down the side of his neck.

A curse wrenched from his throat as Apollo tried to control his lust. Then Pamela took his hand that was kneading her breast and guided it to her panties, and all thoughts of control flew from his mind.

"These, too." She tugged at his bottom lip with her teeth, pulling it into the slick den of her mouth and sucking enticingly. "I want you to rip these off, too."

With a growl he obeyed her. Then he splayed his hands around her naked waist, and with the strength of a god, he lifted her and impaled her on his throbbing shaft.

Pamela was incredibly slick and ready for him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and dug her fingernails into his shoulders. Throwing her head back, she arched into him, totally consumed by the overwhelming need to sate herself in his touch... in his fire.

He was fire. Under her hands his body actually glowed. Her senses acknowledged it, but her mind could not hold the thought. It seemed that the light that glistened from his sweat-damp skin was just another part of his arousal; it tempted her and teased her and goaded on her own passion. His hair curled around his face, thick and golden and glorious. And his eyes... his eyes burned her. She wanted to be burned by him; she wanted to be licked by the flames of his lust.

She felt gloriously, wondrously out of control.

"Harder..." she gasped into his mouth, hardly recognizing her own voice. Phoebus lunged forward, and Pamela felt the cool smoothness of one of the marble columns against her naked back. She used the strength of the column to brace herself, so that she could meet his thrusts with her own inflamed passion. "Don't stop... not yet... don't stop," she panted, feeling herself tip over the edge of the world. Her orgasm was like nothing she had ever experienced. It engulfed her, rippling through her body with an intensity that verged on pain.

And then she was no longer being pressed against the column. His erection still impaling her, Phoebus carried her from the room. They passed through an arched doorway that led to a chamber adjacent to the dining room. In the center of the new room was a large, canopied bed. Logically, Pamela understood that they had entered a bedroom and that that shouldn't make any sense, but her mind was as filled with Phoebus as was her body - nothing was real except his touch, taste and smell.

"What's happening?" she whispered as he lay her on the bed beneath him.

"I am loving you. Forever, Pamela. This is what it is to be loved by me."

He began moving against her in the ancient dance of lovemaking, withdrawing his hard length from her body, and then plunging into her - again and again. Pamela ran her hands across his slick chest as he lifted himself over her. His skin was a golden glow. Dazed, yet ultrasensitized, she gazed down at where their bodies joined. They were both glowing... on fire... flames were licking their skin... driving them on... engulfing them...

"Look at me, Pamela." His voice was raw.

She locked her eyes with his.