A Touch of Malice (Hades x Persephone #3)(102)

She halted a few steps from him.

“I haven’t seen you all day,” she said.

“It was a busy day,” he answered. “As was yours. I saw the grove.”

“You do not sound impressed.”

“I am, but to say I am surprised would be a lie. I know your capabilities.”

Hades had always known her potential, and yet he’d been the first to teach her that her worth was not tied to her power. It was a hard lesson to learn when the value of the Divine was placed upon their abilities.

Silence stretched between them as the words Persephone wanted to say crowded her mouth. Hades looked so haunted, standing there beneath his beautiful sky. She wanted him so badly—his warmth and his scent. Just say the words, she thought, taking a deep breath, as if to prepare, but she only managed to let it out in a slow stream of air.

“Did you come to say goodnight?” Hades asked.

Persephone looked at him, surprised. She never sought him out to say goodnight because she did not have to—he always went to bed with her, even if he did not stay.

“Will you not come to bed with me?” She asked, watching as Hades’ throat bobbed.

“I will join you shortly,” he replied, but he did not look at her. Instead, he stared off at the fading horizon. It was the second night he’d lied.

Her throat tightened.

She considered leaving—fleeing, really. In the face of the wall Hades was building, it seemed easier to run away than attempt to tear it down. Except, she knew that wasn’t true.

“I want to talk about the other night,” she said, imbuing her voice with as much confidence as she could.

Her request drew Hades’ attention—his fierce gaze, his clenched jaw, his tense body. He opened his mouth and then closed it before looking away.

“I did not mean to hurt you,” he said, and those words opened a raw wound in her chest.

“I know,” Persephone said, tears burned her eyes. In turn, Hades’ own breath came fast, as if he were holding back a dam of emotion.

“I was so lost in my desire, in what I wished to do with you, I didn’t see what was happening. I pushed you too far. It will never happen again.”

No, she wanted to scream. It was what she feared—that Hades would halt exploring with her out of fear.

“What if that’s what I want?” she asked.

Hades stared at her, searching her gaze, and she continued.

“I want to try so many things with you, but I am afraid you will not want me.”

“Persephone—” Hades took a tentative step forward, then another.

“I know it isn’t true, but I cannot help how I think, and I thought it was better to say what was on my mind than keep it to myself. I don’t want to stop learning with you.”

His hands came to rest upon her face, a gentle touch, as if she were porcelain. He tilted her head so that her gaze would meet his and spoke.

“I will always want you.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and as he pulled away, Persephone latched into his forearms.

“I know you hurt for me, but I need you.”

“I am here.”

She held his gaze and guided his hands from her face to her breasts.

“Touch me,” she whispered. “We can go slow.”

She did not release his hands as he gently squeezed her breasts, or when his thumb and forefinger brushed her nipples.

“What else?” he asked, voice low and husky.

“Kiss me,” she said, and he did. His lips pressed gently to hers and his tongue slid over the seam of her mouth. She opened for him, tasting him, their rhythm a slow, intoxicating exchange. Hades hands remained on her breasts, kneading and caressing.

Then he shifted closer, one hand moving into her hair, and froze suddenly, pulling away.

“I’m sorry, I did not ask if that was okay.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’m okay.”

She reached for him and brought their lips together. This time, she led, driving her tongue into his mouth. Her fingers thrust through his silken hair, releasing it from its tight binding. She used it to pull him closer and kiss him harder and then her hands shifted—skimming down his chest to his cock, which strained, desperate for release.

This time, his hand came to rest over hers, grinding against her palm.

“Touch me,” he said.

And she did, first through the fabric, but when that wasn’t enough, she unbuttoned his pants and freed his sex—he was warm and soft and hard and as her hand moved, working from root to tip, they continued to kiss until Hades pulled away, his face glistened with sweat.

“Kneel,” she whispered, and they both hit their knees, kissing desperately until Persephone eased Hades onto his back. She lifted her gown and straddled him, sliding over his sex with her own—the friction was delicious and without delay she guided him inside her. She let out a breath so deep, it felt like her soul had left her body. Hades groaned, his fingers digging into her thighs.

“Yes,” he hissed, as she moved, rolling her hips to feel him deeper. Their eyes held and their breath quickened. Persephone took his hands, guiding them over her body—to her breasts, down her sides, over her ass.

“Fuck,” Hades’ curse was low and breathless.

She leaned forward and kissed him, devoured him, drowned in him—there was nothing but him beneath the skeletal moon and starry sky and when she grew too weak to move, Hades sat up, gripped her neck and her back and helped her slide along his cock until he came.