Page 172 of Blood of Olympus

“Don’t,” he said, leaving a rising trail of goosebumps upon my skin everywhere his breath brushed against. “Don’t close yourself off. I didn’t mean it like that at all.” He grasped one of my hands, guiding it down his torso to land on his crotch. “This wouldn’t be happening if I suddenly found you repulsive — which I definitely do not,” he added hastily.

A soft breath, more relief than laughter, forced its way out my nose.

“I would still be attracted to you if you were blind, deaf, and mute. If you were scarred across your face, suddenly gained twice your weight, or if your skin exploded in a wealth of oozing pustules⁠—”

“Gross.” My nose crinkled.

He kissed it. “You were made for me, I am sure of it. The Fates crafted you knowing I would be powerless to resist you in any form — be you goddess, queen, or worm.”

“Worm?” I snorted. “I find it a little hard to believe you, son of Zeus, the once-heir to the Olympian throne, would find yourself attracted to a worm.”

Mirth and embarrassment mingled like warm air along our tether. “Well, obviously I meant that as if I were a worm, too.”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously,” he teased, kissing my nose again. “But what I truly meant” — he kissed my right brow — “was that” — he kissed my left — “you have been through something” — he kissed my left cheek — “truly horrendous” — he kissed my right — “and anyone else would need some time to recover from that. Physically and psychologically.”

I reached up to grab him by the scruff of his collar, dragging his face down so that I could feel the heat of it almost touching mine. “Caelus, I don’t feel like myself from here up,” I admitted, indicating the space from my collarbone upwards. “Yes, something horrible happened to me, but I don’t want it to steal the rest of me, too. We have tonight. Just tonight. You, better than any, must know that we aren’t promised tomorrow, and I’d like to forget about what happened to me, and get lost in the feeling of you, and us. Just for tonight.”

“Just for tonight,” he murmured, the tang of guilt still worming its way up the bond.

“And I’m not anyone else.” Then I kissed him fully on the mouth — fuck the foreplay. I was already wound tighter than an arrow on a taut bowstring — drawn back against the face of Fate itself, hovering on that tenuous edge, waiting to be set free.

And when he kissed me back, pouring all the love he felt down the bond humming between us, I felt the whisper of that string across my own cheek — loosed and free — as if Fate herself had released it, whispering: Yes. This is exactly where you’re supposed to be at this very moment. This soul was made for yours.

So, I shoved my worries, my biting concerns, and my feelings of inadequacy aside to kiss him back. I poured myself so fully into him it was like I ceased to exist. Or he did. Or we both merely only existed within the confines of each other, bound in soul just as much as flesh.

The smell of caramel and berries in the air heightened and it was a powerful aphrodisiac. He tore off the thin scrap of fabric I was clad in — wrenching it from my collarbone with nothing but his teeth and an impatient snarl — and I clawed at the fabric of his shirt with my fingernails, sharpened to points with the help of my magic. Before it could even fall to the floor with a soft thump, I was already tearing at the waistband of his breeches, desperate to wrap my fingers around the throbbing cock stuck within them.

They came off quickly, shoved forcibly down his legs by his equally impatient hand — so entirely unexpected in my constant visual field of white that a giggle burst from my lips, only to be devoured a second later by his hungry lips.

“Still just as sweet as ever,” he whispered against them, setting that tiny bundle of nerves at the apex of my core alight.

He must have felt my rising desire through our tether because his weight shifted forward. My legs dropped open to accommodate his hips, and then the tip of his cock, slick with the proof of his need, was perched at my entrance, teasing me as he dragged it up and down.

“Caelus,” I moaned, hitching my hips to guide him in.

He responded with a deep, throaty chuckle, and that bundle throbbed. His lips trailed down the side of my neck, making it pulse again — more insistent with every kiss.

“Caelus,” I tried again. “Please. I need you.”

His groan rumbled against my cheek as he notched his cock into place. “I will never tire of you begging for this.” He pushed it in ever so slightly, and I gasped in response, clenching around him. “Never tire of feeling your need building like a tidal wave within me, as I feel you tightening around me.” He pressed further in, pausing when he was half way. “Never tire of you making this one particular sound when I⁠—”

He thrust the rest of the way in, in one quick burst, until our skin met with an audible slap, overpowered only by the loud, breathy moan that exited my mouth. If I wasn’t already blinded, cursed to see nothing but the same everlasting, piercing white, I’d have seen stars instead.

I writhed against him — all at once too full and not full enough — and he moved slowly to ease the ache for both of us. He withdrew just far enough that the tip of his cock remained within me, only to slide back in with the patience of a saint — patience I didn’t currently possess.

“Harder. Faster,” I pleaded, relieved when he shifted to better reach that one particular angle he knew I loved. In a matter of seconds, I was exploding in his arms — reduced to a quivering mess as he fought to restrain himself.

When my pulse slowed, and my breathing calmed enough to offer a breathy laugh, he withdrew completely, leaving me both satisfied and empty. I frowned, but he pressed a gentle kiss to my temple and whispered, “Trust me.”

The bed shifted and then I felt his breath, gentle and cool, on my inner thighs.

“Golden,” I murmured — then promptly lost the rest of my sentence to the bliss of his mouth between my legs.

I jolted so badly he had to physically restrain me with a palm over my lower belly — holding me still so that he could better devour me. His tongue explored every inch — from that throbbing bundle, to my soaked entrance, and once, when he slipped, it grazed that second, lower hole.

A moan slipped free, so high and sonorous, we both paused.