A Game of Fate (Hades Saga #1)(62)

He broke their kiss and rested his forehead against hers, and he had the thought that he would treasure this moment—the pause between passion where they had shared so much and would share more.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

He studied her a moment longer, memorizing the honesty etched across her face, before kissing her and lifting her from the pool. He sat her on the edge and wedged himself between her thighs, hands anchored to her waist. He would stay here forever if it meant she always looked at him with those heavy-lidded eyes.

“Tell me you have never been naked with a man. Tell me I am the only one.”

It was a primal question, a strange need he felt deep in his stomach that vibrated through the thread that connected them. He wanted to be the first to explore her body, the only one to know its truth and bring her pleasure.

Her expression softened, and he felt her hand cup his face. “You are.”

Again, he kissed her and snaked his arms beneath her knees. He drew her forward until she barely rested on the side of the pool. His kisses dropped from her mouth to her jaw, to her chest and stomach, chin brushing the wet curls at her center, urged on by Persephone, whose hands threaded through his hair, pulling and scraping as sharp gasps and sensual moans escaped her mouth. It was an erotic symphony he could listen to for the rest of his immortal life.

As he covered her skin in kisses, tongue tasting, he found something he did not expect—a blemish on her perfect skin. Discolored patches of healing yellow-green, bruises splayed across her thighs.

He looked up at her. “Was this me?”

“It’s okay.”

Still he frowned, hating that he had hurt her and kissed each bruise, healing them completely as he neared her entrance. There was no waiting once he felt her heat. He had thought to tease her more, to illicit gasps of frustration and demands for his tongue, but he was weak, his restraint shredded. He descended upon her as if she were a feast and he starved. Her cry of pleasure shuddered through him, straight to his cock, reminding him that they had hours of pleasure to come.

He began with light strokes, brushing her clit and sliding over her damp entrance, but as her hands tightened in his hair and her cries became guttural, he pulled her closer, tongue reaching deeper, tasting sweet slick skin. She writhed beneath him, and he used one hand to keep her in place while the other teased that bundle of sensitive nerves. She grew taut beneath him, a dam ready to burst, and when she finally found release, he drank.

When he was finished, he rose to his full height and kissed her, his mouth still wet from her sex. She welcomed him, wrapping her arms and legs around him. She sat just above his cock, her entrance teasing his tip, and he grit his teeth to keep from impaling himself upon her. When he pulled away, his eyes bore into hers.

Let me have you, he thought. He watched as she pulled her lip between her teeth, another wordless invitation, but just as he moved to guide his throbbing member into her, he heard Minthe’s voice.

“Lord Hades?”

His teeth felt as if they would shatter. He had never hated a sound so much in his life, but this was one he would curse for the rest of his existence. He noted the way Persephone stiffened, and he held her in place as he pushed away from the edge of the pool, turning so that her back was to the nymph as she entered the baths. It was an attempt to preserve some of her modesty, even with her legs still around his waist.

Except Persephone surprised him by wrapping her hand around his cock.

They stared at each other, and if gazes could start fires, they would incinerate.

“Ha—”

Minthe stood at the top of the steps that lead into the baths. Her jaw had tightened, and her features grew rigid at the sight she had stumbled upon.

“Yes, Minthe?” Hades voice was strained, his anger and desire warring for dominance in his mind. Persephone’s hand stroked down his shaft, her thumb rubbing light circles over the crown of his cock.

“We…missed you at dinner,” Minthe was saying.

All Hades could think was, Why is she still talking?

“But I see that you are busy.”

Persephone’s hand moved down to the very root.

“Very,” he said between his teeth.

“I will let the cook know you have been thoroughly sated.”

Up to the tip.

“Quite,” he gritted out.

Minthe lingered there a moment longer, as if she wished to say something further, but—smartly—thought against it. She turned and left, and Hades reached for Persephone. They would pick up where they had left off. She had teased him enough, and now he would know what it felt like to be inside her, to be consumed by that mesmerizing heat.

Except she pushed away from him.

“Where are you going?” He followed after her.

“How often does Minthe come to you in the baths?” she asked as she stepped out of the pool.

“Persephone.”

Do not do this. Do not go there, he wanted to say, but she was not looking at him and she had covered herself with a towel.

“Look at me, Persephone.”

He was still in the pool, but he had moved forward enough so that the water came to his thighs. In some way, he felt just as exposed, his hard flesh on full display, so she could be left in no doubt of his want for her.

“Minthe is my assistant.”

“Then she can assist you with your need.” She dared to pin his cock with her vicious stare. His brows slammed down, and he left the water, arm sliding around her waist. He drew her to him.