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“Why did you do that?”
“So I could do this.” He moved over her, and she saw he was stiff again.
“Already?” She’d been warned by an old handmaiden of her mother that once a man spent, he was done for the night.
“I’m a son of Zeus,” he said. “I can’t turn you into a bird, but I’m not entirely without powers.”
He nestled between her open thighs and placed the tip of his manhood again inside her. And then he pushed. She was so slick and wet inside that his organ went in without causing her much pain at all. No pain, really. Nothing more than a sensation of stretching, of being pleasantly filled.
“There,” he said into her ear as he settled his body on top of hers. “You like it?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “It’s, ah...it’s nice.”
He laughed, burying his mouth into the pillow to muffle the sound. Then he lifted his head and looked down at her, grinning. He touched her cheek, stroked her hair.
“We’ll have to do better than nice.”
Slowly he withdrew from her before entering her again fully. The seed inside her made the movement easy for him and her. He withdrew again and entered her again, faster this time, and still she felt no pain.
“Move with me,” he instructed. “When I push in, you lift up.” He pushed in. She lifted her hips.
“Ah...” she said, her chest fluttering.
“More than nice?”
She nodded. “Much more.”
He settled himself into her and began to take her in earnest. She closed her eyes when she found it helped her concentrate on the sensation of being filled over and over again. And such a delicious wanton sensation it was...all that seed inside her, so much wetness and his organ thrusting into her.
Perseus sucked her nipples again, fondled and pinched them. They grew hard in his fingers, and her breasts ached. The shaft of his manhood rubbed against the swollen knot where he entered her. She twisted under him, seeking more contact.
Perseus seemed to understand how to give her what she needed. With both hands on either side of her shoulders, he lifted himself up, looming over her with no parts of their bodies touching each other except where they were so intimately joined. He thrust harder now, giving his organ to her and not holding anything back from her. She lay beneath him, speared, her breasts rising and falling with his thrusts.
Now they made no attempt to silence or mute their cries of pleasure. They echoed through the room—his desperate breaths, her moans and whimpers. She couldn’t bear to wait anymore, though what she was waiting for, she didn’t know. Perseus must have known because he kept at her, pounding himself into her, rattling the bed, rattling the walls, shaking the world down to its foundations.
“Take it,” he said. “I can give it to you as long as you can take it.”
She squirmed under him, seeking the release she craved. The organ spearing her was bliss, but it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. She lifted her head and, red-faced, tears streaming from her eyes, begged a quiet “Please...” He reached between their bodies and found her knot, her swollen aching throbbing knot, and touched it.
Her head fell back on the pillow and she arched under him. He rubbed her knot, rubbed it quickly, roughly, endlessly, as she lifted her hips under him once, twice, and then on three she was overtaken by a release that felt ages in the making. She shuddered, frozen stiff as a statue while her body went mad around the pulsing organ inside her. There was lightning in her belly, thunder in her hips, a storm all through her body. A thousand miles away Perseus was still on top of her, rutting into her. He found his own release and pushed it in hers, and for a tight, tense, aching moment they were joined so completely she thought there would be no parting their bodies ever again.
But the storm passed as all storms must, and a few seconds or years later, Perseus lay with his eyes closed, his head on her heart, weak as a newborn babe. She twisted her hands and freed herself from the cord he’d wrapped around her wrists. When she put her arms around Perseus, he smiled in his half sleep.
“My wife...” he said.
“Why,” she whispered, “does it feel like you have always been my husband?”
“Because I will always be your husband,” he said, “and eternity is a river that runs all ways.”
CHAPTER NINE
Lia sat up.
All the lights were on in the room again. Lights. Electric lights. She nearly cried with relief at the sight of them.
Her heart pounded so hard in her chest she thought it was trying to escape. Where was she? Her bedroom? Yes, this was her pink-and-white rose-print bedspread. That was her fireplace mantel, painted white. Aphrodite sat upon it and smiled benevolently down at her. And there was the door to the bathroom...that Lia ran through so she could promptly throw up her dinner.
That helped.
