Chapter IV: Hades

CHAPTER IV

HADES

Hades returned to Persephone but did not sleep, a fact that did not escape her notice. She had risen around noon and frowned at him when she woke. She traced the high point of his cheek. He took her hand and kissed her fingertips.

“I am well,” he said.

“Why do you lie?” she asked.

To protect you, he wanted to say.

“What will you do today?” Hades asked instead.

She gave him a strange look. “I am assuming you are asking because you do not intend to stay?”

“I have business in the Upperworld,” he said.

“On a Sunday?”

He knew she did not ask because she was suspicious but because it was unusual. He normally spent the weekends sequestered in the Underworld with her. Sometimes they did not leave this room; other times he took her to explore parts of the Underworld she had never seen.

Whatever their day, it was time he cherished with her, and while he hated to give it up, he knew this could not wait.

He had to know if the ophiotaurus had reincarnated with a prophecy.

“I will make it up to you,” he said.

She did not respond, and there was something about her silence that made him feel like he had hurt her. She sat up and swung her legs off the bed. He kept his eyes on her bare back, mesmerized by the way her hair caught the light, glinting like spun gold.

“I will visit Lexa,” she said, answering his earlier question.

At the mention of her best friend, guilt and pain lanced through Hades’s chest. He had always liked Lexa, but he had to admit, he’d had no understanding of the depth of their relationship until Persephone was faced with her death.

It went beyond being friends. They were soul mates, and he had failed to understand that Persephone would need more from him in the face of her death than he had managed to give her.

That was something he would never forgive himself for, because it had led Persephone to seek help elsewhere, the worst of it coming from Apollo, whose arrow had healed Lexa’s wounds but not her psyche, which had effectively sentenced her to a different existence in the Underworld, one that ensured Persephone suffered just as much as Lexa.

Her best friend would never be the same, and Hades did not know how many visits it would take to Elysium before Persephone realized she wasn’t coming back.

The version of Lexa she had loved was dead.

“How long?” he asked, because he did not know what else to say.

“Until she gets tired,” she said, and he knew she was trying to keep the sadness from her voice. “Which will not be long…she tires easily. Is that usual for souls in Elysium?”

“Yes,” he replied. “It is usual.”

He did not wish to tell her that Lexa probably tired faster because Persephone challenged her. Though she’d been given instruction not to talk about their past together or speak long on the mortal world, it was something she likely could not help, which meant Lexa’s mind was working hard to process or relearn what it had forgotten. Even emotions were a new experience in Elysium.

Persephone was quiet, and after a moment, she rose, naked and beautiful, and entered the bathroom. The sound of the shower followed. Hades considered joining her, but he had the distinct feeling that she wanted to be alone, so he got up and dressed.

This day felt strange, contrary to his usual routine.

He hated it.

He considered just staying with Persephone, but there were greater things at work, and it made him anxious to delay. The ophiotaurus was not something that could exist for long in the world without consequence. It was not only a threat to his happiness but a threat to all gods, and while some deserved to die, he’d rather that power not fall into the wrong hands.

A cloud of steam wafted into the room as Persephone left the bathroom, wrapped only in a towel.

“You’re still here,” she said.

He frowned. “Since when do I leave without saying goodbye?”

She did not answer, and he approached, touching her chin.

“I know you are upset with me.”

“I am not upset. I just thought this day would be different,” she said and paused to take a breath. “Yuri and Hecate want to meet about the wedding.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” she said and hesitated. “I…just don’t know what you want.”

He studied her, and when she tried to look away, he brought his other hand up to cup her face.

“I want you,” he said. “You are all that matters.”

He did not like the way she looked at him, as if she were searching for the truth of his words in his eyes, but he likely only felt that way because of his own fears.

Fuck, he had issues.

“I love you,” he said and kissed her, drawing away quickly before he changed his mind and stayed.

---

The sounds of playful screaming reminded Hades of the Children’s Garden in the Underworld, though the comparison made his heart ache. He rarely grieved anyone who entered the Underworld, but children were the exception. He had never gotten used to it, and he never would.

He hesitated to even approach this park where clusters of children played on large, colorful toys despite the cold and the dusting of snow on the ground, their parents either participating or watching idly. He was not invisible to their eyes, and his presence would likely strike fear.

The mortals above did not always realize there was a difference between him and Thanatos, one the God of the Dead, the other the God of Death, and they assumed he arrived to reap souls, but he was here for one person, and he did not require her soul.

He was usually good at ignoring the unease that settled on the world when he arrived, but something about being here made it far less easy. Still, he kept his eyes on Katerina, who was dressed in a brown jacket lined with fur. She was one of his employees, the trusted director of the Cypress Foundation.

She was also an oracle.

“She’s gotten big,” Hades said as he sidled up beside Katerina, who stood a few feet from one of the playsets, watching her young daughter, Imari, play.

Katerina jumped at the sound of his voice and then laughed when she saw him.

“Oh, Hades, you scared me!” she said, pushing his shoulder. Her breath frosted the air as she spoke.

He chuckled while Katerina’s gaze returned to her daughter.

“She is big, isn’t she?” she asked and then sighed. “I can’t believe so much time has passed.”

“Six years?” he inquired, though he did not need to ask. He knew.

“Yeah,” she said. “You’re good at that.”

“Good at what?”

“Remembering,” she said. “Or is that a god thing?”

“Is what a god thing?”

“Can you just look at someone and know their age?”

“I suppose,” he said. “Though I have never really needed to.”

Death was death, no matter the age.

“What are you doing here?” Katerina asked after a moment. “It’s Sunday.”

He took too long to answer, and Katerina’s smile faded.

“I need your assistance,” he said. “I would not ask if…”

“Hades!”

He turned his head to the sound of his name as Imari jumped from the play set to the ground. He laughed and knelt as she raced into his arms.

People had stared before, but not like they did now.

“There’s my girl,” he said, and she laughed as she pulled away from him, taking his hand in hers, which looked like a giant’s in her small one.

“Come play with me,” she said, tugging on his arm.

“Imari,” Katerina began. “Lord Hades is busy.”

“It’s all right, Katerina,” he said.

A wide smile broke out across the young girl’s face, and she pulled Hades along toward the play area. He felt far too large and awkward, but Imari was too young to see him like that—too young to know what others feared.

He watched as Imari climbed a set of steps to a platform and reached over her head.

“Help me on the monkey bars, Hades!”

“Up you go,” he said, and as he took hold of her legs, Katerina approached.

“What is it you would not ask?” she said.

As Imari swung from bar to bar, they followed.

“I need your gift of prophecy,” he said.

Katerina wasn’t in the habit of using her abilities as an oracle to help him outside the work she did for his foundation. She might comment on the potential success or failure of one of his endeavors or organize timelines for the greatest outcome, but he had never asked her for anything like this.

He continued. “There is…a creature called the ophiotaurus,” Hades said, his voice quiet, his words slow. “In ancient times, a prophecy foretold the death of the gods with the burning of its entrails. I need to know if that prophecy still exists.”

Katerina stared at Hades for a long moment and then looked away.

“The ophiotaurus,” she murmured and then was quiet.

Imari came to the end of the bars.

“Catch me, Hades!” she said and let go.

He snatched her about the waist and spun with her in his arms. Her screeching laugh filled the park and made Hades smile.

As he set her down, she ran for a swing.

“Push me, Hades!”

As they followed, Katerina spoke. “If a person slays the creature and burns its entrails, then victory is assured against the gods,” she said.

Silence followed her answer.

It was as Hades had feared—the prophecy remained true.

Imari began to swing, and Hades pushed. She giggled as she rose higher and higher, a happy backdrop to their somber conversation.

“What will you do?” Katerina asked.

“Try to find it before anyone else,” he said.

The creak of the swing filled the quiet between them.

“What if you don’t?” she asked after a moment.

“Then I suppose we will all die,” he replied.

---

Hades realized as he vanished from the park that he had left Katerina with an ominous prediction.

In truth, he did not know what would happen if someone found the ophiotaurus before him. It was possible that anyone might kill it out of fear, not realizing the true importance of the creature or the danger they would suddenly find themselves faced with.

If the ophiotaurus died, it would not be as important as the person who killed it according to Katerina’s prophecy. Whoever slayed the creature must burn the entrails. Then victory would be assured against the gods.

The gods.

He knew there was no sense in trying to figure out who would be a victim of the prophecy. The Fates would not divulge the future they had woven, and it was possible they had only done this for their entertainment. During the Titanomachy, the ophiotaurus had caused such a melee as both sides scrambled to find the creature that would end the war, but in the end, it had all been for nothing. The Titans had managed to slay it, and Zeus’s eagles had stolen the entrails, foiling the prophecy.

The Fates’ message had been clear: there was no easy end to this war.

But things were different now, and it was possible they wished to usher in a new era faster. He could only guess as to their motives. His fingers curled into fists as he felt his control slipping away. That was the worst part of dealing with the Fates.

Their future was final.

But that did not mean Hades would not attempt control. He would protect the few who were closest to him—Persephone most of all.

If she would let him.

Hades manifested in a wooded meadow, and he was immediately overcome by the oppressive smell of Demeter’s magic. It bore down on him like a weight on his back. He could feel his body curling in on itself. The only reprieve was Persephone’s magic—a sweet undercurrent that called to his soul.

Something crunched beneath his feet, and when he looked down, he saw shards of shimmering glass amid blooming carex and foxglove, all sprouting from a bed of green grass, untouched, as Hades suspected, by the winter storm ravishing New Athens.

His gaze shifted to the ruins of a greenhouse. It was the source of Persephone’s magic. Her early magic too, for the thing that blossomed from the earth was a strange, black trunk with long limbs that curled around the metal frame of the greenhouse, and crushed beneath those branches were many of Demeter’s flowers—prisoners who found themselves at her mercy and found none.

Now he understood where the glass had come from.

He wondered at what point she’d come to wreak havoc on her crystalline prison, and for a brief moment, he let himself marvel at how far Persephone had come—from creating life that mimicked the dead to coaxing blossoms from the earth as she stepped.

Hades took a step, and as he did, the glass beneath his feet was like thunder in the quiet meadow. He was well aware he was not alone. He could feel eyes tracking him but was not surprised that fear had driven any living thing from the meadow.

He turned, eyes roaming the scattered tree line.

“I know you’re there,” he said. “Come out.”

There was no action that followed his words.

“Come out or I shall come to you,” he said.

It was not an idle threat. He knew exactly where the nymphs had taken refuge. Beyond the tree line was a river, and from its banks, they watched.

They were naiads like Leuce.

He waited with far more patience than they deserved as they negotiated.

“Lady Demeter will murder you,” said one.

“She will turn you into a bird as she has always threatened,” said another. “And force us away from our home to the sea.”

“He would not harm us,” another countered. “He loves Lady Persephone.”

“It is not his wrath we fear,” said another.

Hades sighed, vanishing from the meadow and appearing on the bank of the river where five nymphs were gathered. They were half in water, their fingers digging into the muddy bank, faces obscured by tall grass.

When they saw him, they gasped and likely would have fled if he had not held them in place with his power.

“One of you will tell me what you know of your mistress,” said Hades.

They shook.

“We know nothing about our mistress, my lord,” said one who had hair like the sun shining on water.

It was not a lie.

“When was she last here?” he asked.

“It has been quite some time,” said another. This one had hair the color of the darkest parts of the river. “Since Lady Persephone left.”

“Left for the mortal world?”

“No, since the greenhouse was destroyed.”

“And you have no idea where your mistress might be?”

The five of them shook their heads.

Hades studied them. “I need you to find her.”

Their eyes widened and they paled.

“My lord, she will know!” This one who spoke had red hair like two others. All three were crowned with white lilies.

“We will already be punished for this,” said the one with dark hair. “You ask us to die for you!”

Hades tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. “You will already die for me, Hercyna,” he said. “The only uncertainty is how.”

“Do not scare her!” the blond one snapped, wrapping her arms around Hercyna’s head, crushing her to her breast.

“I cannot help it if you fear death,” said Hades. “It is the truth of any existence.”

“Lady Demeter was right about you,” she seethed. “You have no care for anyone save yourself!”

“If you knew what drove me to this meadow, you would choke on your words,” Hades said. “Imagine if I had brought Persephone here to witness your loyalty wither in the face of her abusive mother.”

“You don’t know what it’s like!” one of the three redheads—Peisinoe, Hades remembered—said. “Persephone knew! She would understand!”

“Perhaps she would,” Hades replied. “But I am not Persephone, and I need to know where Demeter is hiding.”

Their anger reminded him of Persephone’s when they’d first met, their opinion of him colored by the way Demeter had painted him.

“Let me give you an idea of what you are about to face if you do not help me,” said Hades. “Your fountains and wells, lakes and springs, rivers and wetlands will all freeze. You will be driven from your homes—you and all your sisters and friends. You will attempt to find reprieve from the cold but will discover that the whole world is frozen, and in that state of despair, you will know what it is to beg for death.” He paused and let his words linger in the air between them. “That is your fate, brought about by none other than the goddess you protect now.”

The five exchanged looks, a different kind of fear present on their faces. It was the acknowledgment he needed, that what he said was already coming to pass.

“I will do it,” said Hercyna.

“No!” the other four said in unison.

“We will all do it,” said Cyane. She looked from her companions to Hades, her eyes alight with anger. “Even if it is only to inform her that you are looking for her.”

“I imagine she already knows,” said Hades. “I’ll be waiting.”

---

Hades returned to the Underworld.

He found Persephone asleep, so he undressed and poured himself a glass of whiskey, hoping it would ease his anxious thoughts.

Katerina’s prophecy was still at the forefront of his mind but so was Demeter. He thought of the task he had assigned to the five nymphs, biting back the guilt. He knew it was dangerous to send them searching for Demeter. The nymphs were likely to be punished just for speaking to him, which made it even less likely they would return with any news on Persephone’s mother.

It was not as if he thought he could appeal to the goddess either. He only wished to know where to find her when Zeus became involved and either demanded an end to the snowstorm or his engagement to Persephone.

He felt the air stir. Glancing over his shoulder, he found Persephone had risen, and she gazed at him from their bed, sleepy and flushed, her beautiful body half concealed by the robe she wore. He’d have liked to rouse her from sleep with a kiss between her thighs, but he no longer felt that was possible given the last few weeks, so he had waited, wondering if she might rise before sunup.

“You’re awake,” he murmured.

He faced her fully, and her eyes fell to his cock, which was hard and tight. He needed some sort of release, because the longer he went on like this, the more uncomfortable he would be, but with the way Persephone was looking at him, he did not think he’d have to agonize much longer.

He downed what remained in his glass before approaching her, and as he sat, he cradled her face in his hand and brought her mouth to his. She let him lead, and he plied her mouth with his tongue until he could no longer taste the whiskey on his breath. The longer he kissed her, the more his cock throbbed. He might have guided her hand to his length or pushed her to the bed so he could cover her body with his, but now he feared exerting too much control.

When he pulled away, her lips were lush and her eyes bright with lust.

“How was your day?” he asked in a hushed tone. He could not bring himself to speak louder. There was something about this night that required quiet.

“Hard,” she answered, nibbling at her lip—a sign of her anxiety.

He had not expected that answer, given that she had been in the Underworld all day, but perhaps things had not gone well during her visit with Lexa. Before he could ask, she spoke.

“Yours?”

“The same,” he said and drew a piece of her hair behind her ear before planting his hand on the bed beside her hip. “Lie with me.”

Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her lips parted and swollen.

“You don’t have to ask,” she whispered.

He disagreed, but there was a part of him that recognized asking might be more about easing his fear than hers.

Now having her permission, he did not hesitate to guide her robe down until she was bare to him. He wanted so much of her at once—her soft moans and her desperate cries. He wanted to kiss her and be inside her. He wanted to take her slow and then fuck her hard, but his eyes fell to her breasts, her nipples peaked and rosy, and he decided he would begin there.

He bent and took each tip into his mouth, sucking them and her soft skin. Her breaths came slow and deep, her fingers tangling in his hair. At this point, he had no real thoughts, only observations of sensation—the way her nails raked over his scalp, the way her breaths deepened the longer he sucked her, the way she shifted her legs wider as she prepared to accommodate whatever he decided to give—except that she grew impatient and reached for his hand, guiding him to her center and pressing his fingers into her heat.

He groaned at the feel of her arousal.

“So fucking wet,” he murmured before his lips crashed against hers and he explored her mouth. He chased her pleasure with his fingers. He liked all parts of sex with Persephone, but this pleased him because he could tell how much she wanted him, and all he could think was how she would feel when he slid his cock inside her—wet, warm, right.

He groaned as Persephone’s hands closed around his length and her touch sent a wave of pleasure rippling through him. Her strokes were slow, and when her thumb teased the tip, his whole body began to throb. He could not take it any longer. He had to be inside her.

He left her body, his fingers dripping with her arousal. He planted his hand on her thigh and broke their kiss.

Persephone glared, her eyes like fire, scorching every part of him. She reached for his hand again and brought it back to her center.

He smirked, eyes falling to her lips.

“Do you not trust me to bring you pleasure?”

“Eventually,” she said, her tone frustrated, but he liked the look on her.

“Oh, darling,” he said and guided her to her back. “How you challenge me.”

He moved her to her side so that her back was to him. It was an odd angle, but he wanted her like this because he would watch her writhe as he gave her pleasure. He loomed over her, holding her gaze as his hand glided over her body until he reached the apex of her thighs. There was something about watching the anticipation build within her body that made him feel powerful.

Only he could make her feel this way. Only he would touch her this way.

She widened for him, and he entered her again. Her head fell back, pressing into his arm, her mouth opened, releasing a pleasing moan, and he captured it with his mouth. He moved inside her and kissed her hard, unrelenting as he chased after her pleasure. Beneath him, she couldn’t catch her breath. It sounded stuck in her lungs as he built on her ecstasy, and when he tore from her mouth, he whispered near her ear in a fierce and claiming growl, “Is this pleasure?”

Because it pleased him.

He pulled out of her again, and her only answer was a guttural cry, but he did not need her to speak. He knew what he had brought on her. Beneath his gaze, she glowed, ethereal and so fucking beautiful. He needed her so badly it hurt.

He shifted closer, and she drew her legs apart so he could fit himself inside her. He felt as though he were in a different part of her, angled differently, gripping differently, and he thought that maybe Persephone felt the same by the way she moved.

“Is this pleasure?” he teased, his voice quiet and low. She shivered at the sound despite the heat radiating off her body. Together they had grown hot, their bodies slick. He moved inside her, slow at first and then faster and harder, liking the rush it gave him when his balls bounced off her ass.

Fuck, he would chase that.

He dug his fingers into her skin.

“Is this pleasure?” he asked between his teeth, because he felt it acutely and he needed to know she felt the same.

Persephone’s hand snaked behind his neck, and as her body jerked beneath his, she managed to speak.

“It is ecstasy.”

Their mouths met in a messy kiss. Hades hooked Persephone’s leg around his own and used his feet for purchase, increasing his pace. His hand came to rest on her neck, fingers gripping her jaw to hold her in place. He did not want her to look away as he finished this. They ceased to speak, only managing gasps and moans and the occasional fuck whispered viciously into the space between them, which hardly had room for anything else.

He knew when Persephone was close. He could feel it in the way she gripped him, the way her body began to shudder. He grit his teeth, keeping his pace as she shattered in his arms, and he followed soon after. His release was draining and never ending, but he stayed buried inside her, coming deep.

It was a possessive thing, but he felt like it marked her as his, and when he would think about it throughout the day, it was one of few things that brought him true joy.

They lay locked together until they could catch their breath, at which point Hades pressed gentle kisses across her skin, pausing to meet her gaze.

“Are you well?”

Persephone nodded, her face glistening with sweat. She seemed distracted, but he knew she was tired. He could feel it in her body, which had become limp and heavy.

“Yes.”

He smiled, a strange relief washing over him. He had always felt it, a moment of fear after having sex with her that he might have gone too far, but with the knowledge of Pirithous looming in the back of his mind, his unease had only grown.

And he hated that he had forgotten, having found himself so caught up in the moment of giving and receiving pleasure.

What if he fucked up and things were never the same again?

Those thoughts stole his high, and he pulled out of Persephone carefully, rolling onto his back. He stared at the ceiling, one hand on his stomach. Beside him, he could feel Persephone watching, and he knew she had something to say as he prepared himself for the worst.

“Has Zeus approved of our marriage?”

That was not what he had expected, and while not as bad as he’d feared, it was still something he was not prepared to talk to her about. In fact, he’d hoped to avoid this altogether. It was not something he wanted her to fixate on or fear so much that she decided not to marry him.

He didn’t like the way that last thought made him feel. Like his heart was being torn from his chest.

After a moment, he spoke. “He is aware of our engagement.”

“That is not what I asked.”

He knew it wasn’t, but it was the only answer he wanted to give. He met her gaze, which was steady and dark. She’d lost that bright gleam that had come with her lust. He wanted that back so he did not have to face this.

“He will not deny me.”

“But he has not given you his blessing?”

He hated the frustration he felt at her insistence. Who had planted this in her head?

Hecate, if he had to guess.

His mood grew darker.

“No.”

He did not like the silence that descended after his answer. He knew she was not pleased with him. Suddenly, he thought about the feeling he’d had after sex. Perhaps he’d been dreading this—having to explain what it really took to marry a god.

“When were you going to tell me?” Though her voice was quiet, he could sense her frustration, but he was frustrated too. This had not been a conversation for anyone else but them, and he should have been given the chance to bring it up on his own.

If given that chance, you’d have never done it, you imbecile.He ground his teeth against Hecate’s voice in his head.

Don’t you ever fucking leave?he thought.

No, she responded, and her trill laughter echoed in his mind.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “When I had no other choice.”

“That is more than obvious,” Persephone said, annoyed.

“I was hoping to avoid it altogether.”

“Telling me?” she asked. Her frustration had not ebbed.

There was a part of him that wanted to kiss her, both as a distraction from her anger and from this topic, but he knew he had to face it now that it was before them.

“No, Zeus’s approval. He makes a spectacle of it.”

“What do you mean?”

He wanted to groan, thinking of all the times his brother had arranged marriages, most of which had failed miserably, all because his oracle predicted some kind of potential that would end his rule over the skies and the earth.

Aphrodite and Hephaestus came to mind first, but there was also Thetis, a water nymph, who both Zeus and Poseidon had once courted until a prophecy foretold that she would give birth to a son more powerful than either of them. It was then that Zeus arranged her marriage to Peleus, and that wedding was a catalyst of the Trojan War.

That was often Zeus’s way, though—forsaking the lives of thousands of mortals to protect his throne.

While Hades knew there was no child that could be born of their union, he did fear what the oracle might have to say about the unity of their power. Persephone was life and he was death. They were a cycle that could give and end life, which made them powerful.

How powerful was yet to be seen.

“He will summon us to Olympus for an engagement feast and festivities, and he will drag out his decision for days. I have no desire to be in attendance and no desire to have you suffer through it.”

“And when will he do this?”

He knew by the sound of her voice that she was worried, and he hated it.

“In a few weeks, I imagine.” He tried to keep his voice light to minimize her fear, but it didn’t work because when she spoke again, he heard the emotion in her voice.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me? If there is a chance we cannot be together, I have the right to know.”

His chest hurt knowing how much this scared her. She’d had to face the guilt of loving him despite her mother’s wishes, only to be faced with the fact that Zeus might ruin it all.

He rose onto his elbow so that he could look at her, silent tears gliding down her face. He brushed them away.

“Persephone,” he said. “No one will keep us apart—not the Fates, not your mother, and not Zeus.”

She swallowed and shook her head. “You are so certain, but even you will not challenge the Fates.”

“Oh, darling, but I have told you before—for you, I would destroy this world.”

Her gaze was unwavering, and he knew what she was searching for—any hint that he was not being truthful, and when she did not find it, she took a breath.

“Perhaps that is what I fear the most.”

Her comment took him back to his conversation with Hecate. Since when have you worried over carnage? she had asked.

Since I decided to marry the Goddess of Spring.

Perhaps he would not have to worry. By the end of this, she might not want him at all.

But right now, that was not the case. He wasn’t sure what shifted between them. Perhaps it was part of this desperate feeling that everyone outside this space wanted to tear them apart, but the air grew thick between them, and wordlessly, Persephone drew her legs apart, and Hades shifted so that his body rested against hers.

He was so easily aroused by her that his cock was already hard.

Fuck, it had been hard, and only within a few minutes of his last release. He felt so foolish, but he was also desperately in love, and all that really mattered was that Persephone did not mind and felt the same.

He claimed her mouth for the hundredth time tonight and kissed her deep and slow, giving the same attention as he made his way down her body, tongue swirling over her skin and hardened nipples, teasing her hips and inner thighs, before he licked the wetness that had gathered there. He could not really describe how she tasted, sweet but also sharp. Whatever it was, he liked it and wanted more. He buried his face farther into her heat, his eyes meeting hers from where he worked. She writhed in his grasp, her hands all over—pulling at her nipples and rubbing over her clit. She did not seem to have any control over her movements or the sounds coming out of her mouth.

He worked in tandem with them, stroking her with his tongue for every breath and moan she took. When his fingers joined, her hands tangled in his hair and her legs came up to brace his head. He pushed down on her to hold her in place, to drive her to the brink of release, and when she came, she whispered his name and took him into her body once more.