Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
As for the rest, I’ll play it by ear and adjust accordingly.
My stomach flutters. I ignore it. Poseidon has nothing to compare this to. I just need to get him off harder than he’s ever come before. Easy. Sure. I veer around to pull the bottle of lube and the box of condoms—both unopened—from the nightstand.
The bathroom door eases open and Poseidon steps back into the room. His entire body is flushed a cute pink that makes me want to redden his ass even further. He actually shuffles his feet. “I’m, ah, I’m good.”
My heart lodges in my throat. It’s tight and hot and I can barely speak past it. “Come here.”
He pads across the room to me. With each of his long strides, my nerves settle even further. How could I possibly fuck this up when I have him in my bed? I press my hand to the center of his chest, stopping him before he makes contact.
Instantly, he goes still. The sensation of power fills me once more. It only grows as I back him to the bed and urge him to sit on it. He’s completely unresisting, his gaze intense on my face. Anticipating my next order, verbal or otherwise.
There’s a calculated way to go about things, but all my plans fly right out the window as I step between his thick thighs. I pull my shirt over my head and toss it to the side. My pants need to stay on for now, a reminder to go at a proper pace. I straddle him and smother the surprised sound he makes with my mouth. Fuck, he really does taste good. The best thing I’ve ever had on my tongue.
His hands land on my hips, but I pull back enough to say, “Hands on the bed. Don’t move them.”
“Icarus.” My name is a plea on his lips. I fucking love it.
“You want to be my good boy, don’t you?” I gently bite his bottom lip, purposefully keeping the contact just shy of painful. “You want to please me.”
He shivers. “Yes.”
“Then keep your hands on the bed.” I barely wait for him to obey before I’m kissing him again, claiming his mouth as if I have any fucking right to it. As if I’m not setting us both up for heartbreak. I shift closer, grinding my cock against his. The jeans are too thick a barrier. It’s almost painful for me and it damn well better be painful for him, but he just moans and sucks on my tongue. More and more and more, until I have to jerk away from him to prevent the pleasure from getting the best of me.
I stand on shaking legs and strive to get the dominance back in my voice, the snap of command instead of wanton need. “Bend over the bed.”
Poseidon blinks a few times. It eases something deep inside me that he’s just as caught up in the spell of this moment as I am. He moves before I have to repeat myself, lumbering to his feet and bending over the bed. This frame isn’t as high as the one I sleep in back at the guesthouse; even bracing his forearms on the mattress, his hips are higher than his torso. Perfect.
I press my hand to the center of his back. “All the way down, big guy.”
He groans and arches into my touch, but he obeys. Of course he obeys. Poseidon has been carrying around the weight of the world for all of his adult life. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to hand over the control, just for a little while.
Maybe it feels as good for him as it does for me to take control. My life has been a never-ending spiral, dragging me along for the ride. Here, with him, in this moment, the ground finally feels steady beneath my feet.
I have the strangest desire to be worthy of the gift he gives me, of the responsibility he’s so willingly handed over.
I ease back, stroking slow circles over his wide back. “If we ever get the opportunity, I want to map your freckles with hot wax.” He shivers under my touch. “Would you like that?”
“Yes,” he moans.
“Then we will,” I say simply. There are Dominants who like to play true head-fuck games, but if given a choice, I’ll always lean toward simpler measures. A few well-placed words can do as much as caning someone—and the echoes will stay long after a bruise has faded. I press lightly against the small of his back, and he responds by arching his spine, offering his ass to me. My mouth goes dry. I can’t believe this is happening. “Your safe word.”
“Trident.” No hesitation. Only pure trust—trust I don’t deserve. I’ve never fucking deserved it. I always mess things up, manage to disappoint the people I care about the most. It’s easy to be perfect when you’re just a forbidden bed partner and presenting a fantasy to someone who’s only seeking that. This is supposed to be like those encounters, a seduction that ultimately benefits me. It…doesn’t.