Page 92 of Queen of Tempests and Sin

A pulse shot straight to my clit, dampening my panties; my retort dissolving on my tongue. Of course, he smelled my arousal, that smug smile pulling at his lips again. Maybe I should’ve pulled away, kept the upper hand—but instead, liquid fire surged through my veins, licking at every nerve, pooling hot and heavy between my thighs.

Slowly, deliberately, I pulled him closer, my palms running down the hard planes of his chest until they reached the waistband of his jeans.

His eyes flared, storm-dark and hungry, but he didn’t stop me.

‘If I’m on display,’ I whispered, sinking to my knees before him, ‘then so are you.’

I popped the button of his jeans and dragged the zipper down, freeing him. His cock strained against the fabric, thick and hard, and when I shoved his jeans and trunks past his hips, he groaned low in his chest.

I wrapped my hand around him, giving a teasing stroke, then looked up through my lashes. ‘Maybe your precious sea wants a show.’

‘Cordelia,’ he rasped, the sound raw, almost desperate.

I didn’t give him time to say more. I leaned forward, taking the head of him into my mouth, my tongue circling, savouring the salty taste of him. His hand immediately threaded into my hair, not pushing, just anchoring, as I took him deeper.

The cool glass pressed against my back as the ocean shimmered beyond, but all I cared about was him—his hiss of breath, the way his muscles tightened under my hands, the growl that rumbled in his chest as I hollowed my cheeks and took him to the base.

His hips jerked despite himself, and his voice cracked low, rough with need. ‘Gods, Little Red… you’ll ruin me.’

I hummed around him in answer, sliding him deeper, my throat tightening as I worked him with slow, steady strokes. His grip in my hair tightened, not enough to hurt but enough to remind me of the strength that lived within him. I let my tongue swirl under the head before sucking harder, my free hand sliding to cup him, to stroke what my mouth couldn’t reach.

His breath hitched, a ragged sound spilling from his lips as his head tipped back. The sight of him unravelling like that—Poseidon, god of the sea, brought to the edge by me—lit a dangerous thrill in my chest. I drew back just enough to tease the tip with my tongue, then took him deep again, greedy for every sound he gave me.

‘Fuck—Cordelia.’ His tone had slipped into something feral now, raw hunger vibrating through each syllable.

The next moment, his restraint snapped. He fisted my hair tighter, pulling me off him with a groan, his cock slick with my saliva, straining, still throbbing for more. His eyes blazed, storm-dark and merciless as he hauled me to my feet, crushing me back against the glass.

‘Enough,’ he growled, his mouth devouring mine in a brutal kiss. ‘You think you can drive me to desperation and get away with it? Now it’s my turn.’ His raw power sent a bolt of lust straight to my clit.

‘Turn around, Little Red, I want to suck on that swollen clit, then fuck that perfect ass before I ruin your cunt.’

My breath stuttered, tangled in worry and the sharp pull of anticipation. His hand shoved under my dress and between my thighs, claiming me with a rough, relentless stroke that made my knees buckle. The rest blurred into hungry hands and desperate mouths, into glass and ocean and the sound of my name breaking on his lips.

* * *

The following morning, we were curled together in his bed, the sheets cool against skin that still felt overheated; the steady hush of the sea still echoing in my ears. For a moment, I lay there with my eyes closed, pretending the world outside didn’t exist—pretending it was just me and Si, suspended in that fragile silence, the storm finally spent.

My body ached in ways I wasn’t about to admit, though the sly curve of his mouth told me he already knew.

I drew lazy circles on his chest, letting silence stretch before I muttered, almost to myself, ‘I’m going to be sore for days.’

His chuckle rumbled beneath me, low and satisfied. ‘You say that like it’s a bad thing.’

I hid my smile against his shoulder, but the truth was written all over the soreness in my bones and the warmth still humming through me. He’d well and truly ruined me—and I wasn’t sure I minded.

He stretched, and it was a seismic event. Wouldn’t have shocked me if the mortal world registered a tremor—or maybe a tsunami. Something shifted, I was sure of it. Maybe not the earth, though… Maybe it was just me.

He turned his head to me. ‘I want to ask you something, kardia mou,’ he said quietly, his thumb stroking slow circles over the back of my hand.

I narrowed my eyes. ‘That tone usually means trouble.’

His mouth curved, but his eyes stayed serious. ‘Not trouble. Trust.’ He paused, searching my face. ‘A blood oath… not to bind you to me, not as possession. But to give me a way to impart gifts to you. Power, protection. A part of me, carried with you.’

My brow furrowed. ‘Like your Acolytes?’

‘No,’ he said at once, his gaze firm. ‘They take a drop of my blood, nothing more. I want you to take more of mine… but, as you are mortal, I need to take yours too.’ He caught my hand between both of his, his thumb brushing my pulse point. ‘It means more than protection. It means trust. Choice. You’d be stronger, faster, able to heal quicker… and you’d have the sea in your lungs. One hour beneath the water, as if it were air.’

He kissed my temple gently. ‘The exchange of blood alone doesn’t automatically grant power; the god has to will the gift into being. That is an honour a god rarely offers. The gifts are mine to impart, given with care, never taken.’