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Rounding another corner, I stop in my tracks and hold my breath, ducking back. The passage has opened into an innerchamber that reminds me of a cavern. Except, it would be the most beautiful cavern of all time. A sublime sanctuary.
Tapestries like scarlet waterfalls cascade down the rock walls. Between them, crystal lanterns hang, magically diffusing the light and casting the chamber in a soft, otherworldly glow. Intoxicating celestial blooms grow all over the floor and the ceiling—flush floral curtains to perfume the air and warm the soles of naked feet.
In some ways, it reminds me of a honeymoon chamber. The kind where a groom would lie upon the bed in all his nude glory awaiting his bride. She would walk to him, shedding her bridal gown to the blossoms.
A luxurious bed. Carved with intricate motifs all depicting scenes of love with sheets of scarlet silk, it serves as the master centerpiece. Shadows flicker upon the bed from the star-like lanterns, creating a chaotic dance. There is even an adjoining bathing area.
Fitting for the God of Love.
My lips part, but my true awe comes when he advances to the left side of the room, giving me an uninhibited view of his glorious cock. But it’s the elegant casket he stands before that has me nearly falling to my knees. It’s not the butterflies adorned in the wood or the glass crystal top.
It’s the woman who sleepsinsideof it!
Tears burn my eyes as I behold her. Not her timeless beauty with an unequivocal goddess radiance. It’s how Eros looks at her. How his eyes worship her as a beloved treasure. Over the past few weeks, I’ve caught glimpses of him studying me this way. But nothing like this. She is entirely nude, a precious fair jewel…like a moonstone, a pearl of great price.
And then…he commands the casket to open.
I cover my heaving breath, but it can do nothing for my shuddering body as he shifts.
Oh, glorious, beauteous, almighty, fucking flawless god!
I am unashamed to fall to my knees. It hurts. Not the kneecaps. My heart…the pain burns an inferno, a firestorm to target my blood and bones. It sets fire to my very soul and has my sex weeping, gushing at the mere sight of him!
Eros. Eros. Eros. The God of Love. The man inside the monster. The epitome and testament of masculine beauty. The only one in the universe who could achieve the flawless center of both!
I clutch my chest with one hand, claw at my throat with the other. His beauty transcends all mortal understanding. I’m undone. Unraveled. Shattered to a million smithereens.
Strength and grace define his physique. He wears them with every fiber of his essence from his lean musculature, sculpted like a heavenly symphony because anyone would want to worship and sing and scream his praises. Every contour, every curve, every cordon of muscle has been chiseled with the utmost care and attention.
His hair is a fall of dark liquid gold that catches every splinter of light. The radiance of the sun has infused those silky locks. I hold my breath as he gathers it into a messy man bun, exposing the serene line of his sharp jaw and the strong curve of his neck.
Only one side of his face is revealed…until he turns his chin in the barest movement to gift me the divine sight. Oh, that face! It yanks more painful tears from my eyes and makes me long to bow my head from the wondrous honor. Regal, majestic, masculine, blessed. Irresistible. All too weak to describe him.
All scholars, poets, and artists would sell their souls for the right to study and portray him. His towering cheekbones, as high as clifftops, catch the firelight, coupling with the shadows to accentuate his empyreal nature. Even his skin seems to glow with a godly luminosity as if his chest carries a cherubic halo.
I can’t quite make out his eyes. Only that they hold a shine that reminds me of a constellation. But his lashes are like the strong yet delicate feathers that form his arrows, casting captivating shadows.
Erotic. Tantalizing. Sensual. Seductive. Again, they are too weak. Too unworthy.
His perfectly formed lips carry a promise, an offer of the most passionate of kisses. The kind that are aphrodisiacs. Consecrated kisses full of tantalizing insanity, paradisiac pain, sin, and…clarity.
He is the poisonous addiction and the cure. He is the darkness and the eclipse.
Is this why he never wanted me to look upon him? Because mortals’ hearts must give out, and their souls must shatter at his sight? It’s what I feel, but somehow, my soul shines on, pieces together—like a mirror ball of shimmery smithereens. And my heart beats…quicker, harder, stronger.
And I…oh, gods. I bite my tongue so hard, it bleeds. I cover my mouth, clench my eyes, and slam a hand down on my center because I’ve clamped down, and I’m-I’m convulsing. Cursed and convulsing in such an intense orgasm, I somehow manage to howl my rapture in the quiet of my mind.
Every single cell of him is divine.
“Psyche…”
Oh, glorious fucking bloody Valentine! His voice is transcendent and ignites a visceral response that has me crashing into the aftershock of another orgasm. I clench my teeth to prevent my scream.
He fists himself, thrusting his hips, arching his neck but gazing at…her. I bite my lower lip and open my mouth on a silent moan as he cups her breast. Squeezes it, pinching the flesh before fondling the full mound.
All of me throbs and aches and mourns when he goes so far as to climb into the casket. I know this moment is private and intimate, but heated tingles erupt all over my skin, and my pulse kicks into overdrive as he crawls up her with that massive cock hanging between her thighs.
He lowers his fingers into her folds, scissoring them. Even from here, I can tell she has the most flawless of vaginas with the perfect shade of rouge pink. I bite my tongue, tasting blood when he sweeps his tongue along her folds. Next, he rises, hard jaw clenched. Even his burning anger is beatific.
