Page 18

18

Poseidon

I feel like I’m in a fever dream as I unlock the door to the little apartment I keep over my office. This is a mistake, and normally I do everything I can to avoid making blatant mistakes—the ones I accidentally commit are enough—but that doesn’t stop me from holding open the door and allowing Icarus to precede me into the space.

“It was originally an office, but I converted it.” I don’t mean to speak, but nerves have a way of getting the best of me where this man is concerned. This apartment is just as sparse as my office, a king-size bed on a simple frame, a nightstand, a small table with a coffee maker and two chairs, and a door to the bathroom. It’s…pathetic. Sad. “This was a mistake. We can—”

Icarus turns to me and grips my chin. The contact startles me into silence. He’s shorter than me, slight, but in that moment, I quiver in his grasp. His deep-brown eyes flick over my face. “Did you change your mind? Or are you just embarrassed because you think I give a fuck about your decorating skills?”

Warmth flares in my cheeks, and I know even without access to a mirror that I’m blushing fiercely. “I’m embarrassed.”

“Don’t be.” His tone isn’t exactly hard, but it leaves no room for disobedience. “We need to have a conversation before we move forward. I would like you to sit down so we can talk.”

Historically, when one of my past partners wanted to sit down and talk, it was a prelude to the end of our fling. Somehow, I don’t think that’s the case this time. Curiosity crawls through me, and I nod slowly. “Okay.”

“Good boy.” He releases me and turns away, as if he didn’t rock my world to the core with two little words. My head feels barely connected to my shoulders as I pull the door shut and flip the lock. By the time I take the seat he commanded, he’s perched on the edge of the bed. He’s already moving easier than he was earlier today, his wounds obviously well on their way to healed.

Icarus studies me. He’s a man with many faces. Charming and weak and strong by different measures. Dominant and fickle and even more I haven’t been exposed to. Which one is the real him? I have no business wondering, but I wonder all the same.

His gaze falls to my thigh, and I realize I’ve started tapping my fingers there. My flush deepens but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he props his hands on the mattress behind him. “How familiar are you with kink? The terminology, the power exchange, et cetera.”

“Familiar enough.” Difficult not to be when people use Olympian parties to share stories that make me blush. For all the importance the upper society puts on chastity and purity, it’s a paper-thin covering for giddy indulgence.

“Good.” Icarus nods. “Before we go any further, I need to know your limits.”

“Isn’t that what the safe word is for?”

“More or less.” He shrugs. “But the goal isn’t to force you to end the scene. The safe word is a nifty brake for when things dance too close to the line, or you have an unexpected reaction to something you thought you might want, or a thousand other scenarios. I may be a villain to Olympus, but I have no desire to be a villain to you.”

We’re just talking, but my heart picks up at the possibilities laid before me. “No lying.”

He blinks. “What?”

“Don’t lie to me. I…” The confusion on his face finally registers as I let my voice trail off. My throat threatens to close. “That’s not what you meant by limits, is it?”

He recovers quickly; I’ll give him that. Icarus shrugs. “It might not be on a traditional hard-limits list, but I don’t see why it can’t be on ours. I can’t be perfectly honest at all times, but I can promise to be honest in the bedroom.” He leans forward a little, his expression sharpening. “I would very much like to know what I can do to you, Poseidon. What you want me to do to you. You liked the spanking. Are you interested in different kinds of pain?”

“Yes.” The word bursts out like the worst sort of confession. “All kinds.”

“Poseidon.” There’s a strange mix of censure and pride in the way he says my name. “We’re being honest. Let’s walk through the list. Flogging?”

“Yes.”

His lips curve. “Paddles, canes, that kind of deep impact?”

There’s not enough air in the room. “Yes,” I whisper. I want it. I want everything.

“Mmm.” He surveys me critically. “Knives, branding?”

I’m so caught up in the possibilities he presents, I almost say yes before I catch myself. If I demand honesty of him, I can do no less than give it myself. As if I’m even capable of lying. “No. Maybe. I’m not sure.”

“Wax? A delicious little burn without the consequences?”

I shiver. “Yes.”

“Good.” Icarus still doesn’t move. I desperately want him to stop talking and start doing . I’ve negotiated ahead of sex before, but it’s usually more about what happens outside the bedroom instead what happens inside it. Finally, he says, “How do you feel about bondage, big guy?”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. It takes me two tries to find the answer. “Yes.”

“That’s a good start.” He slowly pushes to his feet. “And when it comes to the sex itself?” Icarus drifts closer, his gaze intense. “Can I take your ass, suck your cock?” He lowers his voice. “Do you want to take my ass, suck my cock?”

This time, I can’t speak at all. I just nod, my skin so hot, it’s a wonder it doesn’t burst into flames. If he doesn’t touch me soon, I might simply melt into a puddle at his feet. I don’t understand what he’s doing to me.

Finally, finally , Icarus slips his hand to the back of my neck. “It’s a shame we don’t have all the time in the world.” He continues before that statement can sting. “But we’ll make do with what we have.”

I command scores of people and possess one of the most powerful titles in Olympus, but I still stare up at him with something like wonder. “We will?”

“Yes.” He tugs on my hair, sharp enough to hurt. “On your feet, big guy.”

I rise slowly. My legs hardly feel like my own and my body moves as if a puppet on strings of Icarus’s making. He smiles up at me. “Now, stand perfectly still.”

His hands go to the front of my shirt, but I still don’t understand his intentions until he begins unbuttoning my shirt. It takes everything I have to keep my hands at my sides and not try to help him. I could be naked in moments under my own supervision. Icarus, on the other hand, takes his time. His knuckles brush my chest with each button he frees. It’s agonizing. I never want it to stop.

He reaches the bottom of my shirt and parts the fabric. “You really are a masterpiece.” He trails his knuckle down the line of hair that descends from my navel to the band of my jeans, and then reverses course, moving up the curve of my stomach to spread his hand over my pec…over my heart. His smile gains an edge of cruelty. “Your heart is racing.”

There’s no point in attempting to dissemble. There hasn’t been since the beginning of this. “Yes.”

“For me.”

“Yes.” He’s barely touched me, and yet I’m shaking like a leaf. It’s never been like this. I didn’t know sex could be like this. “Icarus…please.”

He ignores me and nudges my shirt off my shoulders, trailing his fingers down my arms in winding patterns until I’m shivering and shaking. And I still have my fucking pants on. He lifts one hand and presses a kiss to my palm. “I’ll tell you a secret.”

I want all his secrets. Not just the ones that will benefit the city. All of them. I manage to clamp my mouth shut before saying as much. He already has so much power over me—too much, most people would say. I can’t give him more.

But I want to.

He carefully unfastens my belt. “Pleasure can be even more painful than a beating when conducted with the proper patience.”

“What?” I stare at him, my mind sluggish with desire. “You’re not going to hurt me?”

“I am hurting you, big guy.” He grips the front band of my jeans, brushing my cock, and I nearly go to my knees. Icarus jerks me closer and leans down to press a kiss on the center of my chest. He’s barely touched me, and I’m about to come in my pants.

He sinks to his knees before me. The sight of him kneeling should trigger some dormant dominant feeling, but there’s no illusion about who’s in control. He takes his time undoing my jeans and then tugging them down my hips and thighs, one inch at a time.

Which is right around the time he realizes I still have my boots on. Icarus hums a little under his breath and wrestles them off with a faint laugh. It’s awkward and should feel odd, but it does little to dampen the spell he’s woven around me.

Once I’m free, he tosses my boots over his shoulder and urges me to step out of my jeans. Then he runs his hands up the outsides of my legs to grip my hips. My cock is so hard, it’s threatening to escape the band of my underwear. He makes that sexy little humming noise again and drifts his fingers over my length. “Big guy indeed.”

“You had your hands on me last night,” I manage to grind out.

“Yes.” He grips the band and tugs it down, pressing it against my cock as he does. “But I was caught up in the moment and didn’t have a chance to properly appreciate you.” He stops with my underwear at the base of my cock, so tight that every bit of me fizzes. “You’re magnificent.”

“Don’t.”

Icarus raises an eyebrow. “Don’t what?”

It’s difficult to think with my heartbeat pounding along my hard length. Difficult to think with him looking at me like that, slightly impatient and yet indulgent at the same time. I drag in a breath and try to think clearly enough to form proper sentences. “You don’t have to say stuff like that.”

“I know,” he says simply. “But I want to. Why does it make you so uncomfortable to be complimented?”

My mouth works, but no sound comes out. I swallow hard. “Can we talk about this later?”

“No.” His tone goes hard. “Answer the question, Poseidon.”

I desperately don’t want to. There’s no escaping him, his touch, his gaze, his dominance. Even as I look up to the ceiling, I can feel him. “I know who I am—what I am. I know that you hate me, even if you desire me. I asked for honesty.”

“Look at me.”

I’m helpless to do anything but obey. The cruelty on his face is gone, replaced by something I have no name for. It’s intense, though. Icarus sits back on his heels but doesn’t release me. “I promised you honesty in the bedroom, and I’m being honest when I compliment you.”

“Icarus—”

“No, you’re going to listen.” It should be absurd to have this conversation with him on his knees and my cock out. Somehow, it’s not. He tugs my underwear down a few inches, and then a few more. “You’re so fucking sexy, it drives me to distraction. I like your combination of strong and soft. Your freckles make me wild. And…” He leans forward and drags his tongue up the length of my cock. “I can’t get enough of your taste.” Icarus looks up at me, his deep-brown eyes luminous. “I can’t wait to eat you right up.”