Electric Idol (Dark Olympus Book 2)

I don’t know what changed on the ride back to my place, but now I understand what Psyche was silently chewing on. She peels off her jeans, leaving only a pair of lace panties and a nude bra. The sight of her steals my breath. She doesn’t have the Photoshop finish that so many people in Olympus chase; she’s got curves and a scattering of stretch marks and an ass I want to take a bite out of. Holy fuck, this is actually happening.

Still…

I clear my throat, concentrating on holding my position and not lunging at her like a fucking animal. “Just this morning, you said it wasn’t necessary.”

“I know.” She shrugs and twists a lock of her dark hair around her finger. “Look, the truth is that I don’t separate sex and emotions all that well. The very last thing I want is an emotional entanglement with you. It would make an already messy situation messier, and neither of us needs that.”

No reason for that to sting. No reason at all. This is merely a business arrangement, if one she didn’t enter into voluntarily. It’s only reasonable that she doesn’t want to become emotionally entangled with me.

That, and the fact that I’m a fucking monster.

I take one step into the bedroom and close the door softly behind me. “What are you proposing?”

“A one-time thing.” She reaches behind her for her bra hook and hesitates. “Trial by fire and all that.”

“I can assure you that it will feel better than a trial by fire.” I move toward her slowly. I already know once won’t be enough for me—not by a long shot. She won’t thank me for saying as much, though. Psyche feels the chemistry, too. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t melt for me every time I kiss her. On that note… “Kissing remains on the table for the future.”

She opens her mouth like she wants to argue but finally shrugs. “You’re right. You’ve been photographed multiple times with your tongue down someone’s throat, so they’ll expect you to do the same with me.”

That slows me down a little. “How closely did you follow gossip about me before this?”

“As closely as I follow gossip about every person in Olympus who might become a threat someday.”

It’s not quite an answer, but we have plenty of time for me to dig into that later. No reason to think she spent the last two weeks doing a deep dive on me and my history and scouring the gossip sites for tidbits about me the same way I did about her. Right now, I have a nearly naked Psyche standing in front of my bed. Only a fool would pass up this opportunity. I close the distance between us in two great strides, stopping just short of touching her. She doesn’t flinch away this time. She simply unfastens her bra and lets it drop to the floor.

I allow myself to look first. Psyche is a fine wine, and like any fine wine, I plan to enjoy her in stages. She’s fucking gorgeous—gorgeous enough to make Aphrodite jealous, which isn’t an everyday occurrence. I push that thought away before it can ruin my mood. Instead, I focus on the woman standing before me. She holds perfectly still and lets me look my fill, as if that’s something I can accomplish in the hour we have available to us.

Another time, I promise myself. Another time, when we have more hours at hand, I’ll convince her to stand before me like this and let me look as long as I want.

I sift my fingers through her mass of dark hair, brushing it back and out of the way. Her breath catches as I coast my thumb over the slope of her shoulder, and she shivers a little. “We don’t have much time.”

“We have as much time as we need,” I murmur, continuing my path down her arm, all the way to her wrist. Her skin is so fucking soft, I want to follow the path with my mouth. Instead, I bring her hand up and place it on my shoulder. Then I repeat the process with her other arm and hand.

“Eros.” Her voice has gone ragged. “Stop teasing me and touch me.”

Another day…

But this isn’t another day. I might have countless ways I’d like to play out a seduction of Psyche Dimitriou, but the truth is that we are on limited time and I have to proceed accordingly.

I cup her big breasts, nearly groaning at the way they overfill my palms. Her nipples are a pretty dark pink and I can’t deny myself any longer. I bend down and capture one with my mouth.

She whimpers and then her hands are in my hair. I doubt Psyche will ever admit it, but I think she likes my curls. She sure as fuck likes to use them has a handhold at the first opportunity she gets.

I switch to her other nipple, playing with her until she’s shaking in my arms and arching to meet my mouth. Psyche tastes like a godsdamned dream. She also smells like a fucking cookie. I press my nose to her skin and inhale. “You smell so good, I want to eat you up.”

“How very cannibal of you.” She’s too breathy to make the comment as dry as she obviously intends. “It’s my lotion. It’s—”

I look up at her. “Psyche.”

She nibbles her bottom lip. “Yes?”

“I don’t fucking care what kind of lotion you use.” I urge her the last step to the bed and guide her down onto her back. Slowly. I have to move slowly, because if I snap my leash, I’m going to be inside her in two seconds and that’s not what I want for this. I never have control issues. Never. Every seduction I’ve ever enacted is a carefully choreographed dance between me and my partner—or partners. I never fall on them like a beast intent on ravishing.

A beast I can feel howling inside me.

I’m actually in danger of faltering now, when it matters the most.

That’s why I go to my knees next to the bed instead of joining her there. This is better. Safer. No matter what she said earlier, I don’t intend for this to be a one-off. Psyche makes a surprised sound but I ignore it, focusing on easing her panties down her legs. Her thighs shake, as if she’s not sure whether she wants to close them or open wide. It doesn’t matter. I can see her perfectly just like this, her pussy glistening in an invitation I have no intention of rejecting. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“I’d rather we just got to it.”

I almost laugh. Might laugh if I wasn’t dying for a taste of her. “I’ve changed my mind.”

Psyche tugs on my hair. “Get up here.”

“We’re not having sex right now.” I can’t trust myself to go there with her, not like this, not right now. Not when my hands are shaking, and it’s everything I can do to hold myself back. She deserves flowers and romance and more orgasms than she can count. She doesn’t deserve to be shoved down onto the mattress and ravished by a fucking beast.

I don’t know if I’m capable of giving her what she deserves.

No, that’s a lie. I already know I’m destined to fail if that’s my goal. All evidence points to Psyche and I existing in entirely different realms. Even in this. Especially in this. She said she has trouble separating sex and emotions. I can’t think of a single time sex has made me feel anything but physical pleasure.

I am going to fuck this up.

“Eros, please.”

“Psyche.” I press my forehead to her soft stomach and exhale shakily. “Just let me make you feel good for a little bit. Please.”

“If you want to, I guess—” Her words morph into a throaty moan as I lean down and drag the flat of my tongue over her pussy.

Fuck me. She tastes even better here than she does everywhere else. I slide my hands up her legs and grip her thighs, pushing them wider. More. I need so much more…

I drag myself back from the edge in time to grab my phone. Psyche props herself up on her elbows and looks down her body at me. Does she like the view from up there as much as I like it from down here? Hard to say. She frowns. “What are you doing?”

“Setting a timer.”

She blinks. “Why?”

“Because I’m about to get distracted eating you out and I don’t want to make the jeweler wait.”

Another of those slow, shocked blinks. “Eros, the jeweler won’t be here for forty minutes.”

“I know.” I curse softly. “It’s not nearly enough time.”

Then there’s no more time for talking. I want to feel her coming all over my face and I want it now. Psyche is stubborn, so I want to make this so good, she’ll forget why she tried to put a limit on this. Or that’s the plan.

Any plan goes right out the window at my second taste of her. She tenses, but then seems to give herself over to sensation. Between one breath and the next, her legs fall open and she has her hands in my hair again. Giving herself to me. Trusting me to make her feel good. It’s a heady feeling to have all of Psyche at my disposal.

I watch her closely as I work her with my tongue, exploring her slowly while I figure out what she likes. She’s not quiet about what she enjoys, which is a delight to discover. She has no problem tugging on my hair to guide me to her clit or moaning and whimpering when I land on a slow vertical stroke with the flat of my tongue. I keep doing it, building her up to an orgasm that has her shaking and damn near ripping my hair out of my head. I relish the sting, the clear loss of control.

I keep my gaze on her flushed body as I move down to pepper light kisses and love bites on her inner thighs. She’s completely relaxed right now, but I still have time left and no interest in stopping until the alarm sounds. I work my way back up her thighs, intensifying my touch, and then lift my head so I can part her pussy with my fingers.

She’s so wet, I have to tighten the chain on my control. I want in, want it so bad I’m shaking more than she did when she came all over my face. My cock is painfully hard, and I’m not even remotely ashamed to have a small wet spot on the front of my pants from the pre-come. Of course I do. This woman hits all of my buttons. It’d be so easy to reach down and undo my pants, to wrap my fist around my cock and jack myself.

Too bad I don’t trust myself enough to do it, no matter the relief it would bring. I have to keep my pants on. No exceptions.

I lick my lips, tasting her there, and push two fingers into her pussy. She gasps and arches her back, and I nearly orgasm on the spot from the way she clamps around me. And then it doesn’t matter because she’s coming again, milking my fingers in a way I’d kill to have her milk my cock.

Soon.

The alarm goes off long before I’m ready to stop, but I manage to lift my head. I crawl up her body and catch her mouth. She clings to me as I kiss her, and for a moment, I actually consider ignoring the alarm to keep this going.

No. Damn it, no. We have a plan; we have to stick to it. Too much is riding on us pulling this off for us to let lust get the best of us before we’re able to actually speak our vows. Reluctantly, I break the kiss.

Psyche makes a sound of protest and tries to pull me back down to her. “More.”

“The jeweler.”

She goes still. It’s amazing to see her pull herself together, putting away her desire and focusing on the endgame. Her body tenses and then relaxes. Her grip on my hair loosens. She can’t quite banish the heavy-lidded look from her eyes, but she manages to smooth out her expression a bit. Slowly, oh so slowly, she removes her fingers from my hair. “Right. The jeweler. We need rings for the ceremony.” Her voice is only a little ragged now. She recovered so quickly, far faster than I’m able to.

“Yes.”

She licks her lips. “Then you should probably get off me.”

It’s only then that I realize I’m still pressing her into the mattress. She cradles me between her thighs, her heels locked at the small of my back. “If you want me to get off of you, you should probably release me.”

I like the way she blushes. I like it a lot.

It still takes far too much control to move off her, and then it only gets worse because I can see her again. If a normal Psyche is a temptation I’ll never be able to resist, a pleasure-sated Psyche is like mainlining the most addictive drug on the planet. I want her again, as soon as possible, as many times as we can manage before our bodies give out.

I take a step back, and then another. “I’m going to change.”

“Good idea,” she says faintly, her gaze on the front of my pants. “I should get dressed.”

“Yes.”

We stare at each other for a long moment, the tension building into an almost visible thing. It feels like she’s hooked a magnet up to my gut—or, more accurately, my cock—and it’s pulling me in her direction even now. We break at the same time, me heading for the closet and Psyche darting out the door in the direction of the spare bedroom.

It’s only once I change into clean clothing and have my shit put back together that I can admit the truth. She might not want to get entangled, but it’s pretty damn clear that I already am. I’ve never been that close to losing control before, not with any of my other partners. But then, she’s proven again and again in the short time we’ve spent together that Psyche Dimitriou isn’t like anyone else in Olympus. No wonder my mother wanted to extinguish her bright light. She’s smart and savvy and far too good for a man like me.

I don’t give a fuck.

After tonight, she’s mine in truth.