Page 13

13

Icarus

I still haven’t managed to fall asleep when the door to my room flies open and Poseidon appears. It was only a couple hours ago that he fled my presence, but he looks almost like a different man now. His eyes are too wide and he immediately starts pacing from one side of my bed to the other. “I need you to tell me something.”

I sit up and rub my knuckles across my eyes. It’s hard to focus, which means I was closer to sleep than I realized. My thoughts feel muddied and sluggish. “What’s wrong?”

“Have you…used pain in your past sexual encounters?”

A bolt of pure heat sears me, blazing away the last cobwebs of not quite sleep. I force myself to take several deep breaths and to think. He’s not coming to me in a flurry of lust. He’s running from something. That shouldn’t matter—this is what I wanted, after all—but…it does matter. A lot. “Poseidon, before I answer your question, I need you to answer one from me. Are you okay?” I’m slightly horrified by the words coming out of my mouth—even more so by the fact that I mean them.

“No,” he says simply. “I’m overwhelmed and I don’t know what the right choice is, and I can’t think. Or I’m thinking too much. I don’t know.” He shakes his head roughly. “I just need some space, a little bit of peace. I’m sure things will become clearer after that.”

I’m no stranger to using sex as a form of escape. I facilitated it in many of my partners over the years. When they start coming to you for escape, that’s when you have them in the palm of your hand. I suppose it’s a gift of sorts, but I’ve never cared enough about my lovers—or them about me—to see it as such. With this man, though, this near-stranger who I barely know? It feels like unearned trust. Guilt sprouts in my chest. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

He stops short and pivots to face me. For a moment, he looks more like the man I’ve started to get familiar with. The one who studies me as if he can reach inside my brain and map my very thoughts. “Earlier, you said you intend to seduce me. So seduce me.” He swipes his hand through the air. “I’m saying yes, Icarus.”

Unease still filters through me, but this is an opportunity I can’t afford to ignore. Or at least that’s what I tell myself as I climb out of bed and pad barefoot to stand in front of him. There’s a strange feeling in my chest, almost hidden beneath the odd guilt. Something almost like appreciation? No, that’s not quite right. He’s obviously in some measure of distress, and he came to me for a solution. It indicates a trust I haven’t earned. A trust I have no intention of earning.

But turning him away feels wrong.

I reach out, stopping short of making contact with his body. “If you’re serious about this, then there are a few fail-safes that need to be put in place.”

“I don’t care about any of that.”

He truly is desperate. My guilt starts to fade, replaced by a sensation I have no name for. Surely I’m not feeling protective of my captor? That would be absurd. It would make me the worst kind of fool. “It doesn’t matter if you care or not. Fail-safes are what I need in order for us to move forward.”

He opens his mouth as if he might keep arguing but ultimately shakes his head. “Of course. Whatever makes you feel the most comfortable.”

It’s a testament to the kind of person he is that he’s still thinking about my comfort instead of his. He might be in my room, offering himself up to me on a silver platter, but if I told him no with any amount of surety, he would turn around and walk away. That knowledge, more than anything, settles any doubt in my mind. “First, we’re going to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“It’s a short conversation. I’m sure you’ll survive.” I take a step back and marvel at how he shadows my movement, maintaining the careful distance between us but not allowing it to increase. My next inhale makes me feel more like my normal self. “Tomorrow, we’ll have a full discussion on what your limits look like. But for tonight, there are two things I need from you. First is for you to pick a safe word. Are you familiar with the concept?”

His hands open and clench rhythmically at his side. “I am easily twice the size as you are, Icarus. I could stop you anytime I want.”

“Probably.” I shrug. “But I won’t touch you again without a safe word. It’s required for this kind of play, and whether you’re strong or not, I need the assurance that you’ll use it. You might be something of my enemy, but that doesn’t mean I want to harm you.”

He frowns at me as if I’ve said something revolutionary. Which part? Us being enemies? Or that I don’t want to harm him? My chest pangs at the idea that maybe his past lovers haven’t taken care of him. That maybe they took advantage of this big man and his too-big heart.

Finally, he gives a jerky nod. “Trident. It’s as good a word as any.”

“That will do.” A thrum of excitement goes through me. This is truly happening. It’s something I want for calculated purposes, but it’s also something I just flat-out want. Ever since I kissed him, ever since his knees fucking buckled from the tiniest bit of hair pulling, I’ve spent more time thinking about my captor than I have about escape. He’s so reactive. I have to wonder what else he’ll react to, what else I can do to draw out those delicious whimpers. I’m at a buffet of delights and I don’t know where to start first.

I take a slow breath and try to marshal my thoughts. “The second question I have for you is, what do you need from me? Be explicit, Poseidon. I want no confusion between us.”

His exhale shudders through his entire body. “I don’t want to think anymore. I don’t want to worry anymore. I don’t want to keep pretending I have the answers. Even if it’s only for a little while.” He sinks slowly to his knees before me, his amber eyes desperate. “Hurt me. Fuck me. Do whatever you want. As long as I don’t have to think anymore.”

My mouth works, but no words come out. That’s hardly any guidance at all. The amount of trust he’s putting in me, even if he is larger, is absolutely absurd. I could harm him. I could fucking kill him. And it’s almost as if he’d welcome it. I knew I was playing a dangerous game when I embarked on this attempted seduction, but Poseidon just raised the stakes and then offered me his throat.

I’m not certain I could ever deserve his trust…but there’s a small, quiet part of me that wants to.

I force myself still. There’s a proper way to do things, and it’s not falling on him like a ravenous beast. That would be fun for both of us, but it’s not what he’s asking me for. I draw in a careful, steady breath. Well, a mostly steady breath. “Take off your shirt and pants and then return to your knees.”

His relief is written all over his handsome face. His shoulders sag, and he scrambles to his feet and hurries to obey my command. His shirt and pants end up in a pile at his feet, and he dips his thumbs into the band of his underwear, but I shake my head. “Leave them on.” I should be taking advantage of everything he’s giving me, but there’s still a part of me hesitating.

Poseidon sinks to his knees and places his hands on his meaty thighs. He truly is a specimen to be marveled at. He’s so fucking thick in every part of his body that I just want to take a bite out of him. His freckles extend down his broad chest and over his barrel stomach, accompanied by a smattering of hair the same color as his beard. I’ve never found freckles so fascinating before, but I want to use them to write my name and tattoo it across his chest.

Wait. No. Damn it, no . This isn’t permanent. He doesn’t care about me, and I certainly don’t care about him. We’re captive and captor, and he should have me on my knees, begging. To stand before him like this, with him watching me with pleading in those amber eyes, is beyond comprehension. What is he thinking?

But he’s asked me for escape, and escape is one thing I know how to do.

“Place your hands on the footboard. Don’t move them.” I watch as he shifts awkwardly to the foot of the bed to follow my command. He’s tall enough that he’s not fully bent over, but it will still work just as well. I move to his side and now, only now, do I allow myself to touch him. I trail my fingers down his spine. He tenses in response, but when I simply keep stroking him gently, his head eventually falls forward, baring the back of his neck to me.

He has freckles everywhere. I don’t know why I find that so charming, but I sure as fuck do. I want to trace the path of them with my tongue, with my fingers, with other things. Not tonight. Maybe not ever. I can’t afford to be focused on the future, not when he’s relying on me.

He’s big enough, strong enough, that it would be nice to have a flogger or a paddle, but he’s also new at this, so an open hand will do. I shift closer and stroke down his back to the top of his underwear. His muscles flex against my fingertips. Gods, he’s shaking and I’ve barely touched him. “I’m going to spank you now.”

His whole body shudders at my words. “Please. Do it.”

I take a moment to allow myself amazement that this man apparently hasn’t engaged in kink when he’s obviously primed for it. I don’t know what it means that I’m his first. A surge of possessiveness nearly takes me to my knees. Another feeling I have no right to. Poseidon is my enemy. I have to keep reminding myself of that fact. If there was a choice between me and his beloved city, he would throw me to the wolves without hesitation.

But he’s here now. Trusting me to give him what he needs. Opening himself up and exposing all his vulnerable bits.

The overwhelming urge to spank him until he wears my bruises for days afterward, to mark him as mine, shudders my breath out. I don’t know where that came from, but I’m not about to indulge it. He’s not mine. He never will be.

Except for right now. For tonight.

“Remember your safe word. Use it if you need to.” I hook my fingers into the band of his underwear and pull it down over his round ass. Freckles here, too. Gods . Before I can sink to my knees and take a bite out of him for real, I bring my hand down on the top of his ass. I don’t try to hit him with all my strength; this is more a test of what he’s looking for. Of what he needs.

Even knowing that he asked for this, even knowing that he’s fully consenting, I’m still shocked to my core when he lets out a moan I feel in my bones. A moan I caused. Holy fuck.

I press one hand to the center of his back, where I will be able to feel every bit of his reaction to every blow. Then I bring my free hand down on his other ass cheek. There’s a trick to this, to the steady pacing, not so quick to rush things, slow enough that he can feel the full sting and blossoming of pain from every strike, so that he has a chance to protest if he needs to.

But he doesn’t. Every time I spank him, he lets loose one of those delicious moans that I want to eat with a spoon. I keep going, alternating sides and rhythm so he can never quite anticipate or brace against the bloom of pain. His ass reddens beautifully, drowning out the freckles there. It makes my mouth water and my cock hard. I can almost— almost —feel exactly how good it would be to sink into him, to have the heat of his reddened ass against my pelvis as he clenches around my cock.

Sometime around the dozenth strike, he starts shifting as if he can escape the pain, pushing against the bed as if he’s not sure he wants to retreat or arch his back and offer me better access. Through it all, he keeps moaning, his head hanging limply between his broad shoulders.

Finally, I can resist it no longer. I sink down and bite him on the upper curve of his ass. Not as hard as I want to, nowhere near hard enough to break the skin, but he jerks and makes that whimpering sound I’ve been craving since our kiss in the kitchen. I press my forehead to the small of his back. Measuring his little shudders and shakes. “Poseidon.”

“Yes?” His voice has gone soft and slow, the way submissives often do when in the middle of a scene. If he’s not fully in subspace, he’s damn close. “Icarus? What do you need?”

I smile despite myself. Trust him to be the kind of man who asks me what I need when he came to me in desperation. Does he ever put his needs first? The thought staggers me. It threatens to make this moment impactful in a way I don’t want. I can’t be trusted to hold him with care. I can’t be trusted to hold anything with care.

And he…deserves that.

Fuck. I kiss my bite mark. I shouldn’t be doing this. Now’s the time to stop things and bring him down, to hold him long enough to ensure he’s okay and then flee. Except I don’t.

I kiss his heated skin again. “Are you only here for pain? Or do you need pleasure, too?”

I hold my breath as he whimpers again. Addiction. That’s what this man threatens to be. I’ve kissed him once and given him a relatively light spanking, and it’s everything I can do not to push for more, not to take everything .

“Pleasure, too,” he finally grinds out.

My selfish monster of a heart hoped he’d say as much. He just gave me the excuse to do what I want to. Without moving from my position, I trace over the band of his underwear with my fingers to the curve of his stomach, and carefully lower the fabric past his massive, hard cock.

Now, we can really start having some fun.