Page 70 of Apollo

He threw his head back.

Bellowed his lungs to every raindrop that would listen.

Poured his passion into this extraordinary, enthralling siren, with rivulets along her curves, lust parting her lips, and an orgasmic scream swirling up her throat . . .

“Fuck,” he spewed from between clenched teeth. “Fuuuck.”

Because who’d destroyed who?

Who’d already milked him of all the hot spend he had, only to drag out his new groan in a lusty new code for open your kitty wider, Little Fuckzilla. I’ve got more treasure to deposit . . .

But this time, his explosion had shrapnel attached.

Specifically, countless shards of . . . feeling. Sensations in his chest that throbbed toward her. For her. Cravings to connect even deeper with her. Stupid desires he’d never wasted time on during moments like this. Moments that were created by nature for one purpose alone: pure, unthinking pleasure.

Pure.

Unthinking.

Yet this time, he thought. And then again. He considered how striking this woman’s face was . . . how fascinating she was, period. The beauty of her soaked curls in the wind and her pretty teeth peeking from her lifted lips. How blatantly and gorgeously she displayed her pleasure . . .

And how he wanted more.

All of it.

How he wanted it enough to suddenly wrap a hand around the back of her head. How he ignored her startled expression to twist fingertips against her soaked scalp, palming as much of her crown as he could.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he growled, beginning to move inside her again. “I’m going to watch you come for me again. I’m going to watch it all.”

“Yes,” she rasped, sending her hot fast gasps against the set of his lips. “Y-Yes, pl—”

Bzz. Bzz.

Her sweet sighs pitched into an agonized groan. “Seriously? Again?”

Bzz. Bzz.

Apollo bit out a reaction of his own, incorporating a number of ancient Greek oaths, while waving a hand to release her from the overhead bonds. He caught her before she tumbled all the way to the ground, gathering her up in his arms. Once they were back in the shelter of the engawa, he quickly wrapped her in a triple-layered blanket.

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

“Rest here,” he urged. “Fate conspires against us yet again.”

Because like before, the noisy invader was his front door instead of his phone.

He confirmed the conjecture while grabbing his phone from where he’d parked it on the front foyer table, glaring at the notification from the front door camera app. But the screen shot was dark, meaning the intruder was too short or too sneaky for detection.

“The fuck?” he muttered. “Do the girls in green even sell those damn cookies over here?”

This time, at least, he could rule out Rizon from the possible intruders list. With any luck, the sun would really burn itself out by the time Hades decided the malaka had paid down his debt.

Pushing the button for the porch preview camera didn’t ease his mystification. If anything, perplexity clouded his thoughts even more, rivaling the sky outside as he threw the deadbolt free.

The clean-cut youth on the landing, dressed in a tidy chlamys cloak with gold sandals, beat him to a greeting by several seconds. “Your Godship Apollo.” He briskly tapped a finger to his petasos helmet, with its rounded crown sporting a small set of golden wings. “I am Herald Ezra, from Godship Hermes’s team.”

“So I’ve gathered.”

If he looked as grim as he felt, now stewing giving up another orgasm without even a box of cookies to compensate, Ezra didn’t show a shred of remorse about it. Damn it, Hermes hadn’t even sent a man he could daunt.