Page 109 of Hades

He followed me over, his cock pulsing inside me, filling me with his release in hot spurts deep inside. He buried his face in my neck and bit down on the junction of my shoulder, marking me, claiming me in the most primal way possible. The pain heightened the pleasure and made me cry out again.

We stayed connected, breathing hard, hearts racing. His weight pressing me into the table. The table settled beneath us with a final creak, a sigh of relief that it had survived.

Finally, he pulled back just enough to look at me. His hand came up to cup my face, thumb stroking my cheek. The gesture was surprisingly tender after the brutality of what we’d just done.

“You okay?” he asked, genuine concern in his eyes.

“Yeah.” More than okay. Better than I’d been in years.

“Good.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead, then my nose, then my lips. Soft. Tender. A stark contrast to the brutal way he’d just fucked me. “Because I plan to fuck you again in about ten minutes.”

I laughed. The sound surprised me, bubbling up from somewhere deep. When was the last time I’d laughed after sex? When was the last time sex had felt like this? Like connection instead of transaction; intimacy instead of obligation?

“I’m serious,” he continued. “I’ve got a couple of hours before your mom wakes up. I plan to use every fucking minute.”

His cock was already hardening again inside me, proof he meant what he said. I could feel it growing, filling me again.

I looked up at this dangerous man who’d claimed me, who’d made me his, who looked at me like I was something worth protecting instead of something to be controlled, who saw me as a person instead of a possession.

“Then what are you waiting for?” I challenged.

His eyes darkened. That predatory smile returned. The one that made heat pool in my belly, the one that made me feel alive.

“Absolutely nothing.”

He pulled out of me slowly. The loss made me whimper. Made me feel empty. Then he grabbed my hips and flipped me over. Bent me over the table. My cheek pressed against the cool wood, the contrast in temperature making me shiver. My ass was in the air. Exposed and vulnerable and exactly where he wanted me.

His hand came down on my ass. A sharp crack that echoed in the kitchen, making me gasp. The sting spread across my skin. Then he was pushing inside me again. Deeper this time. The angle was different. More intense. He bottomed out and I felt it in my stomach.

And he made good on his promise. He fucked me hard and fast. One hand fisted in my hair, the other gripping my hip hard enough to bruise. Pulling me back to meet his thrusts. The table scraped across the floor. My breasts pressed against the wood, my nipples hard against the cool surface. The sound of our bodies coming together filled the kitchen, punctuated by my cries and his grunts.

He leaned over me. His chest pressed against my back. His breath was hot against my ear as he murmured, “You’re mine now. You understand that? Mine.”

“Yes,” I gasped. “Yours.”

And I meant it.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Rhea

I’d spent most of my life being Lucas Cooper’s wife.

Not Rhea.

Not Gabriella.

Not even really a woman with wants or needs that existed outside the man I married when I was sixteen years old.

Lucas’ wife. Kronos’ old lady. Zeus, Diana, and Irene’s mother.

The woman who kept the clubhouse from eating itself alive when men came home bloody. Drunk. Furious. Grieving. Too broken to admit they were one bad night away from putting a bullet in their own heads.

For decades, I thought that meant I knew my life.

That I knew my husband.

That I knew my marriage.