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He moved slowly in and out, and Persephone held onto his arm, nails digging into his skin. Then she felt Hades other hand guide hers down.
“Touch yourself. Here,” he said. He helped her circle the sensitive flesh he’d toyed with for so long before entering her. Pleasure curled through her stomach. She rocked against him, arching her back. Hades kissed her skin ruthlessly and cupped her breast, kneading her nipples until they were hard and taut. She thought she would explode.
Hades moved faster and Persephone rubbed harder and then suddenly, he withdrew. The absence of him was so shocking, she cried out.
She twisted toward him in anger, and he grabbed her wrists, pulling her toward him, his mouth descending on hers. His kiss was consuming. Their tongues collided,
desperate and searching. She thought he might be trying to taste her soul.
He pulled away, resting his forehead against hers.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
“Yes,” she breathed—and she felt the truth of her words deep in her soul. It was a knowledge so primal and so pure she thought she might weep. In this she trusted him—in this she would always trust him.
He kissed her again and lifted her onto the edge of the bath.
“Tell me you have never been naked with a man,” he said. “Tell me I am the only one.”
She cupped his face, searching his eyes, and answered, “You are.”
He kissed her before moving his arms under her knees, shifting her so that she barely rested on the edge of the pool. She couldn’t breathe as he kissed along the inside of her thigh, pausing when he reached the bruises on her flesh. She hadn’t noticed them, but looking at them now, she knew exactly where they had come from. The night in the limo when Hades had gripped her tight. It was a sign of his need and of his restraint.
He looked up at her. “Was this me?”
“It’s okay,” she whispered, and ran her fingers through his hair.
But Hades frowned and kissed each bruise—eight in total. Persephone counted.
Slowly, he moved from the outside in, closer to her core. And then his mouth was on her and a cry escaped her mouth. She felt molten where he touched her, and it spread all over her body. His tongue circled her sensitive nub and parted her damp flesh, drinking her until she came apart.
He rose to his full height and kissed her hard on the lips. She melted into him, wrapping her legs around his waist. She could feel his cock pressing into her entrance, and she wanted desperately to feel him inside her. To know what it was to be filled up and whole.
Hades pulled away from the kiss, wordlessly asking for permission, and she would have granted it had she not heard a soft, feminine voice call out, “Lord Hades?”
Hades twisted her so that the woman who approached could only see her back. They were chest-to-chest, and Persephone’s legs were still wrapped around Hades’ waist. She let her hand slip between them and wrapped her fingers around his hard flesh. Hades eyes bore into hers as she touched him.
“Ha—”
Persephone recognized the voice now—it was Minthe. She couldn’t see the beautiful nymph but knew by her voice that she was shocked to find them together. She had probably expected Persephone to heed her earlier warning and stay away.
“Yes, Minthe?” Hades said, his voice tight. Persephone wasn’t sure if it was because he was angry at being interrupted or the fact that she had just stroked him from root to tip. He was thick and hard and soft.
“We…missed you at dinner,” she said. “But I see that you are busy.”
Another stroke.
“Very,” he gritted out.
“I will let the cook know you have been thoroughly sated.”
Another.
“Quite,” he gritted out.
The soft click of Minthe’s heels echoed and disappeared. When she was out of earshot, Persephone pushed away from Hades. She couldn’t believe she’d let this happen. She was insane—enticed by pretty words and a stunningly attractive god. She should have stayed away—not because of Minthe’s warning, but because of Minthe herself.
“Where are you going?” he demanded, following after her.
