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Orpheus makes no effort to achieve his own release. He holds me until I lie still, breathing hard, both appeased and unbelievably frustrated. And beneath it all, beneath the drug of Orpheus that hangs heavy over my mind and body, I remember that he is not a human. He is not a Pleasurebot.

He’s something else. Something altogether unknowable.

It’s late in the evening, and Ian still hasn’t come home.

Orpheus and I have fucked, made love, had sex — every iteration of the act — so many times that I’ve lost count.

He’s insatiable, unstoppable, and never fails to wring an incredible orgasm out of me.

I let him because I need it. I need this, the closeness, the ecstasy, the distraction.

And I’ll ride Orpheus’s cock as many times as it takes for me to return to some semblance of sanity.

I roll over in bed, where our latest fuck has taken us. It’s rainy, dark, and intimate here. Orpheus’s naked body, smoothed at the edges by darkness, glows pale in the city lights. His hair falls over his shoulders, unmussed by hours of sex.

I should try to rest. I should let the soporific effects of Orpheus’s cock lull me to sleep so I might wake up refreshed in the morning.

I should worry about Ian in the morning.

I should worry about me in the morning. But the billionaire’s absence and Eros’s subsequent death scratch at the inside of my brain until I can’t take it anymore.

“I’m worried about Ian,” I admit. “He didn’t leave a note.

I don’t get it. I don’t understand what he wants from me.

Obviously not a book.” Bitterness drips from my tongue.

I can’t help it; I’m fucking pissed. This book was supposed to change my life.

Instead, I’m grappling with unthinkable truths about myself and the universe, wondering what Ian De Leon could possibly want with me.

“Don’t worry about him,” Orpheus says acidly. “He would never extend the same courtesy to you.”

I look for meaning in Orpheus’s expression. “Tell me why.”

Orpheus shifts behind me, pulling me to him until my back is pressed to his chest. As he speaks, he nuzzles my neck with his nose.

“Because Ian’s ego overshadows his sense.

He’s blessed with intellect but never uses it for good.

He could feed the starving. He could fund your planet’s colonization effort.

If he wanted to, he could plant a million forests, revolutionize solar energy, and turn back the clock on this dying world.

Instead, he builds caricatures of love. He seeks to open doors that are not his to access.

He brought me here against my will. He lied to you, and with that deceitful mouth, he dared to taste you. ”

I blow out a shaking breath. “I just don’t understand why he did that to Eros. His first working model. Gone. He seemed so proud of him at first.”

“Ian does not love what he creates,” Orpheus says, more gently than before. “He wants to rule over it. That’s all.”

“Okay, well. I just…” A knot lodges in my throat.

The book isn’t real. Eros is dead. Ian is missing.

My life has changed, but not in the way I needed it to.

Everything about this whole experience has been nothing but a nightmare I want to forget.

Everything but Orpheus. I close my eyes tight, willing the tears away.

“Kit,” Orpheus breathes. He strokes my hair, pulling me tightly to him.

He mouths along the length of my neck, his fingers tracing circles on my stomach.

As always, his touch is calming, his voice a drug.

“Don’t cry. Whatever Ian has done to Eros is not your concern.

Humans are messy, contradictory creatures. ”

“But—”

“Shh,” he soothes, pressing kisses to my temple. “Ian suffers great turmoil. But you don’t need to suffer. Let me kiss you. Let me undo you. Let me quell your pain with untold pleasure.”

He touches me slowly, deliberately. He croons incandescent words in my ear, calling me beautiful, perfect, breathtaking.

“I’ve been waiting so long to meet you,” he says. “I missed you. I’d never met you, but I missed you.”

I relax into him as he strokes me from collarbone to belly, softly pulling at my thighs with long fingers, opening my legs. “Let me show you all the pleasure a human body can sustain, and then I’ll give you more.”

I arch back against him, already wet and needy. God, despite everything, I want this. I need it. The way his hands play over my skin is supernatural. My thoughts short out as he enters me from behind, and I sink into his orbit, riding waves of bliss until I forget the world entirely.

All that exists is Orpheus, a live electrical current crackling in the darkness, and I throw myself into him, unflinching.

“How many lovers have made you feel this way?” He thrusts slowly as he asks, his fingers digging into the flesh of my hips. His breath is hot on my ear.

“None,” I gasp, turning my head to face him.

He kisses me from that awkward angle, needy and breathless. My mind flickers in a near-unconscious state as I surface from the agonizing pleasure. My body tightens in an overwhelming ache as I come, riding wave after wave of perfect rapture.

Orpheus , I think I cry his name.

“How many have brought you to climax like this, better than you thought was possible?”

I come undone against him, my breath coming in small gasps.

He is solid behind me, holding me steady, a gorgeous anchor to keep me from falling forever.

I think of all those nights I’ve spent with men — some I thought I loved, most I hardly knew.

Their fumbling fingers, their messy kisses.

The sex I thought would make me whole and the cold emptiness that followed.

Orpheus leans over me, pressing his lips to my temple. His silver-bright hair tickles my sensitive skin. Every muscle in my body is lax. My thoughts come slowly, trapped in syrupy bliss.

“None,” I answer. “You’re the only one.”

He smiles against me, face nestled in the crook of my neck and shoulder. His cock is still inside me, his fingers trailing delicate lines down my belly. Already, the flame of need blooms again inside me like a lit match.

“Good,” Orpheus murmurs. “Good. You’ll need no one else after me.”