Page 51 of Crown of Serpents (Curse of Olympus #1)
CHAPTER FIFTY
Medusa hid in the shadows, clinging to the wall of the quarterdeck, while she watched Perseus with burning intensity. She ached for him, a longing that had grown since their departure from Rhodos. Their last encounter, the overheard conversation with Andromeda, hung heavy in the air. He lingered, discussing the rescue mission with Aetos. Perseus patted the old captain’s back as Aetos retreated for his night watch up the quarterdeck.
Time was running out. Come sunrise, Medusa would leave the ship with Mikis and enter enemy territory.
Perseus walked to her cabin, oblivious to Medusa lurking in the darkness. His hesitant hand hovered near the door. Medusa seized her chance, lunging from the shadows and pinning him against the wall. Instead of looking surprised, Perseus smiled, his eyes darkening as they trailed the contours of her lips.
His touch was electric as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear .
“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” Medusa whispered.
She rose to her heels, tugging his tunic and kissing him deeply. Perseus lifted her veil ever so slightly before his arms tightened around her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her hands in his dark curls. Time seemed to slow down, and Medusa wished dawn would never break.
Perseus spun her around, pinning her wrists against the wooden wall and gently caressing her neck with his lips. His hot breath against her skin drowned out every racing thought in her head. She craved the oblivion he offered, the way he consumed every inch of her until only the sensation of his mouth and the burning need within her remained. Medusa twisted free, her legs entwining his strong torso as she pressed against him. He groaned, a low rumble in his chest, but hesitated, his lips hovering above her skin. His eyes met hers, searching as he asked, “Are you sure?”
Medusa nodded. “I am.”
She would not let Poseidon’s memory take these stolen moments from her.
Perseus’s mouth crashed against hers, and he grabbed her legs tightly while pressing against her. Medusa opened her mouth for his tongue. He lifted her from the wall, his lips never leaving hers as he carried her into the cabin. Medusa did not wait for him to close the door before she tore off his shirt.
Perseus chuckled. “A little impatient, are we?”
Medusa felt her cheeks warm, but he scooped her up and plopped her down on the cotton mat. He ripped a piece of his ruined tunic, lifting his hand toward her face.
She stopped him before he could blindfold her. “No, tonight I am in control.”
His face lit up as he lowered his hand, offering her the blindfold. A slow smile spread across her lips as she leaned in, tying the fabric over his eyes. “Do you trust me?”
“I do.”
Medusa pushed him onto the straw cot, straddling him and savouring the sight of his chiselled body splayed before her. He was already hard beneath her. She pinned his arms above his head, interlacing their fingers, and slowly began tracing his neck with her teeth.
A shudder went through him. “Fuck, Medusa.”
She chuckled, trailing her tongue toward his chest, then his muscled abdomen.
He growled in pleasure, buckling beneath her.
Medusa held tight, pressing his hands into the pillow as she slowly began grinding her hips against his hardened length. The friction sent sparks through her, and she gasped in pleasure.
Perseus moaned, trying to free his hands to grab her hips. “Please, Medusa. I need you.”
“I decide what you get and when,” Medusa purred, delighted by his burning need for her as he sighed in frustration. Yet, he remained still, waiting patiently for her to devour him.
She kissed him, high from his taste on her tongue and the feel of his hot skin against hers. They melted into each other, and Medusa’s need grew, coiling tight in her core. She pressed harder against him until they were both panting.
She fumbled for his pants, her hands trembling with desire — something she had never expected to feel for anyone after … everything. Then, she lifted her dress, straddling him once more. Perseus gently positioned his cock at her entrance. When she finally lowered herself onto him, Medusa tilted her head, her eyes rolling back. He felt perfect inside her like their bodies had been crafted by the gods for one another.
Slowly, Medusa began riding him, holding onto his shoulders. The motion sent shivers down her spine, but she wanted more, so she began circling her hips, their moans growing louder.
Perseus’s next words came out through laboured breaths, “Take whatever you want, Medusa. Use me for your pleasure, let me serve you!”
Medusa rocked her hips faster. A thrum of electricity was building inside her that needed release. She needed him deeper and faster. Perseus grabbed her hips as he thrust inside her, over and over again.
He groaned, “If you keep going like that, you’ll unravel me entirely.”
She slowed her pace, riding him in deep teasing strokes. Perseus white-knuckled the bed sheets with each delicious movement, biting his bottom lip. Medusa trailed a nail over his bronze skin, marvelling at the sight of his powerful body writhing beneath her. If only she could keep him splayed beneath her for an eternity.
Medusa rocked her hips, taking him in a deep thrust. His hands flew to her hips as a moan escaped her throat, pressure building in her core. She needed more, wanted him deeper. Her legs began trembling, but Perseus steadied her as she rode him at a maddening pace.
She dug her teeth into his shoulder, holding onto his broad frame. His blood tasted sweet on her tongue as they melted into each other, becoming one.
Lightning coursed through her veins, as Medusa erupted, her head spinning and vision blurring. Her body was set ablaze, a stream of electrifying energy. She could feel Perseus pulsating inside her just moments after her.
“Medusa,” her name was a prayer on his lips as he groaned in pleasure. The feel of his vibrating cock sent ripples of pleasure through her as she ground against him once more.
Medusa collapsed on his chest, her legs shaking. She could still hear the blood drumming in her ears when Perseus wrapped her into his arms. Medusa inhaled deeply. She’d done it. She hadn’t panicked.
Perseus stroked her hair, kissing her forehead. His lips barely brushed against her skin, but it made her heart flutter regardless. Then he looked at her, smiling as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world. In the flickering light of the oil lamp, his hazel eyes almost appeared the colour of molten gold. He brought his mouth to her ear and whispered, “You are magnificent, Medusa. Do you know that?”
A silly laugh bubbled in her throat. “I do.”
…
Medusa had lain enveloped in Perseus’s muscled arms for hours, toying with his soft curls. Neither of them had closed their eyes, their time too precious to doze off.
“Are you scared of what might happen?” Medusa blurted out, her voice small.
Perseus tilted his head, furrowing his brows in thought. “No.”
“Oh.” The word was like a punch to her gut. Medusa averted her gaze, tears glistening in her eyes. She did not like to admit it, but the past days had been torment for her. All kinds of terrible scenarios kept her up at night.
Perseus cupped her cheek, gently nudging her to face him once more. “Are you scared?”
Instinct beckoned her to deny her feelings, to hide her vulnerability from him, to shield herself. Her body did not comply. “I’m scared of losing you.”
He rested his forehead against hers, pulling her closer, as his warm scent calmed her nerves. “Do you want to know why I am not scared of what is to come? Even if we might never see each other again, I can only think about how grateful I am to have met you. You’ve changed how I see the world, challenging me and helping me discover courage I never knew I had. Every moment, every stolen glance, every dance, every argument and fight — especially when you were handing my ass to me — it’s all been a gift. So, no, I’m not afraid of losing you because I am incredibly blessed to have had you, even for a sliver of time.”
His words were like a soothing melody. They warmed her, slowly smoothing over the cracks in her fractured soul. She interlaced their fingers, and Perseus continued, “Medusa, I … I think, no, I know … I lo —”
She stopped him before he could utter the words, placing a finger on his lips. “Don’t tell me now. Tell me in three days after we have won. Promise me.”
His throat bobbed as their gazes met in the dim light. Medusa knew that dawn was approaching fast. She would have to leave soon. Her heart thundered in her chest as she watched the shadows clouding Perseus’s face momentarily. Yet, she did not break their stare; she needed him to promise. She needed him to tell her that he would live, that he would be hers.
“I promise, I will tell you after. We will win,” he said, though his voice sounded hollow.
Medusa cupped his cheek, brushing her lips against his eyelids fluttering. Their kiss was gentle and melancholic, a promise and farewell.
In the East, the first sunlight crested the horizon, illuminating the autumn sky in hues of orange and crimson, chasing away the shadows of the night.