Electric Idol (Dark Olympus #2)(83)

There’s that fine tremor again in his hands where they bracket my wrists. “Be sure.”

I don’t care if it’s reckless; I’m already nodding. “I don’t want anything between us. I just want you.”

He takes me at my word. Eros reclaims my mouth as he gets busy stripping me out of my underwear and bra. His pants hit the floor a mere moment later and then his naked body is against mine, the delicious slide of his skin against mine going straight to my head. I dig my hands into his curls and tug, pulling him down to the floor on top of me.

I only get to enjoy the feeling of his weight pressing me against the cool marble floor for a moment before he pushes back to kneel between my spread legs. The expression on his face… I don’t doubt for a moment that he sees me as the goddess he claims. My self-esteem is pretty healthy, but when Eros looks at me with such intensity, I feel like I could walk on water.

I want to give him the same feeling. I start to reach for him, but he gives a sharp shake of his head. “Not yet. If you touch me right now, I’m going to be inside you in the next breath.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He shakes his head again. “Not yet,” he repeats. Eros coasts his hands up my thighs, pressing them wide, continuing his path until he reaches my pussy. He presses two fingers into me and curses. “You’re so fucking wet.”

“You do that to me,” I gasp, arching my back as he twists his wrist and strokes his fingertips against my G-spot. “More!”

“I’ll give you more, Wife. I’ll give you everything you need.” He doesn’t pick up his pace, though, and when I try to dig my heels into the ground to lift my hips, he plants a hand on my lower stomach to keep me exactly where he wants me. It feels so good, and it’s only made hotter by how closely he watches me.

Eros turns his head. “Look.”

I follow his gaze to find our reflections in the mirror. It’s sexy to have him kneeling over me, strumming my pleasure higher and higher, but seeing it as if someone else were watching us? I almost combust on the spot. And then Eros starts circling my clit with his thumb and I do combust.

He barely lets me finish coming before he guides me onto my stomach and then up onto my hands and knees. “I see you have a bit of an exhibitionist streak.” He strokes a hand down my spine and I moan in response. “Or it is a voyeuristic streak?”

“Both.” I lift my head to watch him shift behind me, his hands finding my hips and urging me into the position he wants me. I can’t catch my breath, but I don’t care. “But only with you. Only like this.” A show performed and witnessed by only us.

“Good.” The word is almost a growl. “I don’t want to share you, beautiful girl.”

“I don’t want to share you, either.” Not any part of this. Not with anyone else.

He closes his eyes for a beat. “Last chance, Psyche. Are you sure?”

No need to ask what he means. “No condom,” I confirm.

Eros doesn’t ask again. He shifts forward, guiding his cock to my entrance. I hold perfectly still, staring at the tormented expression on his face as he sinks into me, inch by inch. “You’re so beautiful,” I whisper.

He laughs a little, the sound choked. “It’s only…” He drags in a breath. “I feel like it’s the truth when you look at me like that.”

“It is the truth.”

He reclaims my hips and begins moving, sliding in and out of me in long, smooth strokes. It feels so good, I can barely keep my eyes open, wouldn’t be able to if not for the show we’re putting on for an audience of two. Eros puts every muscle on his impressive body to use, all with the intention of bringing me the most amount of pleasure. Before I can fully sink into the rhythm of his thrusts, he bends to brace one hand on the floor next to mine, and slides his other down my stomach to stroke my clit. “Dirty girl,” he murmurs against my skin. “You complain about all the mirrors as if you don’t get off on me fucking you in front of them.”

I moan and arch my back, angling my hips to take him even deeper. “I suppose…” He picks up his pace, and I lose my breath. “I could be convinced…about the mirrors…to like them.”

“You’re a gift, Psyche Dimitriou. A fucking gift.” He kisses my shoulder, my neck, the sensitive spot behind my ear. All while he keeps up those devastating little circles over my clit, the equally devastating strokes deep inside me.

I try to hold out. I truly do. I won’t want this to end, don’t want this perfect moment to fade back into reality and all the problems waiting for us.

My body has other ideas.

I cry out as I come hard, clamping around him. Eros curses as if I’ve surprised him and picks up his pace, driving into me until his strokes become uneven and he follows me over the edge.

He slumps down half on top of me. He’s heavy, but I like it. It feels like he’s continuing to anchor me to the here and now even as we relearn how to breathe.

Eros brushes my hair off my face. “Did I hurt you?”

My knees already ache in time with my racing heart. It’s perfect. I leverage myself up enough to kiss him. “Thank you.”

Something in him relaxes, and my pleasure-drugged brain realizes that he was actually worried this had somehow been too much. I reach up before I can find a reason not to. My fingers find his hair, and the little smile he gives me makes my heart lurch. I lick my lips. “I meant it about the mirrors. You’ve convinced me that they’re an asset.”