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Chapter 7

CHAPTER7

CALYPSO

I’ve had many partners over the years. Men and women and non-binary, rich and powerful and ruthless enough that I never forgot my place. Or, rather, my perceived value. Love is all well and good, but love doesn’t pay the bills and love doesn’t offer the kind of safety that comes with money. My relationships were always transactional, even if most of my partners pretended otherwise.

I have no shame about that. Certainly no regrets.

But the result is that, until this moment, I’ve never had anyone look at me the way Medusa does. As if she can barely believe I’ve allowed her hands on my body. As if she’s about to pinch herself because this can’t possibly be real.

It makes my chest feel funny. I am a realist, but I can’t identify the emotion that surges within me in response to the way she runs her hands up my thighs in a wondering kind of way. “Why are you looking at me like that?” It’s a question I never would have voiced with past partners. I am confident and well aware of my assets; both things that drew the kind of people I allowed into my bed. But this is different.

Medusais different.

“Why are you asking me that?” She shakes her head slowly, her gaze settling on my pussy. “How can you ask me that when you know who you are and who I am? It’s like one of the gods descended from wherever the fuck they reside and spread her legs for me. You’re lucky I haven’t passed out from the shock.”

I love how frankly she speaks. Maybe others would consider it awkward, but she’s honest in way that feels revolutionary. “Have you considered that the feeling is entirely mutual?”

She blinks at me for a long moment before she bursts out laughing. “Very funny.”

“I’m serious.”

“No, you’re not.” She motions between us. “Look at you. Look at me. I’ve seen the guy you were sleeping with, and I know who you were rumored to be with before him.” She holds up a hand. “It’s okay. I’m not looking for sweet lies or bullshit. I know who I am.”

“Do you?” I reach out and cup her jaw. She’s right. She’s not beautiful or suave or any of the other things my past lovers have been. But how can she look in the mirror and not see her value? It’s written there in the stubborn line of her chin, in the obvious way she hones her body into a weapon, her muscles clearly defined beneath her gorgeous tattoos. For fuck’s sake, the woman has a six-pack, which is not a common occurrence.

What attracts me to her goes beyond that, though. “Surely you’re not foolish to think that looks matter more than the core beneath? You’re honest.”

“Awkward.”

“Honestly awkward, then.” I shrug. “Awkward isn’t a bad thing, Medusa.” I don’t have to ask who made her feel that she was lesser. Even as carefully polished and poised as I am, I’ve still spent most of my life being very aware of what little value I offer in the eyes of those who hold the purse strings of Olympus.

I can see her formulating more arguments, and it makes something twist deep inside me that this woman has been so cut down that she won’t believe a simple compliment. That she sees her valuing my life as something to be hidden and ashamed of, because she’s supposedly failing Athena.

As if Athena isn’t just as bad as every other member of the Thirteen. She might have saved Medusa all those years ago, but she didn’t do it out of the kindness of her soul. She did it because it was an opportunity to stick it to the last Poseidon, who she had issue with. And if she got a loyal pet out of the bargain? She was savvy enough to see the value in that as well.

I don’t know if Medusa is ready to hear that. I’m probably not the person she wants to hear it from, either.

Instead, I kiss her.

Just like that, her hesitance disappears and she presses me down onto my back, her weight a comforting counterpoint to how floaty everything feels with her mouth moving against mine. She touches me like she’ll never get enough. For my part, I cling to her strength even as she kisses her way down my body.

She lingers on my breasts, working me up with an expert tongue until I’m shaking and whimpering. Only then does she continue her path south, peppering my stomach with kisses even as she pushes my thighs wide. Her soft exhale shakes just the tiniest bit, as if the mere sight of me, wet and waiting for her, is enough to affect her deeply.

I could get addicted to that sound, to her deep appreciation. It’s entirely mutual, and I want her to feel just as valued as she’s making me feel in this moment. “Medusa—”

She descends to press an open-mouthed kiss to my pussy and I forget how to speak. She might be delightfully awkward with her words, but she knows what she’s about in this act that doesn’t require speaking. She worships me with her mouth, exploring me with slow swipes of her tongue before moving up to focus on my clit.

“Softly,” I moan. “I’m too sensitive.”

She gives a purely satisfied chuckle. I should know by that sound alone that she has no intent of showing me mercy, but she still manages to surprise me all the same. There’s a distant part of my brain, a portion of myself that I can never quite manage to turn off, that says I need to stop this, to flip her over and show her exactly what I’m capable of.

That if I don’t, she’ll walk away.

Medusa chooses that moment to press two fingers carefully into me, and then a third. She looks up, expression intent. “Too much?”

“That’s not the problem.” I might laugh if I had breath. “Come here. Let me take care of you.”

Her smile is slow and somehow both intense and sweet. “When’s the last time someone took care of you, Calypso?” She twists her wrist and flutters her fingers against my G-spot. “If I do something you don’t like, tell me.”

I can barely think past the pleasure building inside me in ever-increasing waves. I certainly can’t quite comprehend that Medusa seems perfectly happy to do the giving, instead of expecting it to be an unequal exchange favoring her. “You won’t do something I don’t like.”

“All the same.”

I wet my lips. She still hasn’t stopped that mind-blowing stroking against my G-spot. I whimper. “I’ll tell you. I promise.”

“Good.” She settles more comfortably between my thighs and resumes lavishing my clit with attention.

It’s too good. I’m going to lose control.

The temptation rises to shove her away, to do whatever it takes to regain the upper hand. The idea that there isn’t an upper hand in this scenario? That we’re just two equals sharing pleasure? I can barely comprehend it. I fist my hands in the sheets to keep from doing something foolish and it’s as if that single submission creates a cascade of others.

There’s nothing left to do but enjoy the ride.

Medusa finds the exact motion that has every muscle in my body going tight and hot and she keeps doing it again and again and again. I don’t mean to cry out, but I’m no longer in control of my body. Pleasure surges through me, and when I come, it’s with her name on my lips. “Medusa.”

For a moment, I think she won’t stop. But she slowly brings me down with increasingly gentle kisses before easing her fingers out of me. She presses her forehead to my lower stomach, her breathing coming just as harsh as mine. “Gods, Calypso. I could get addicted to you.”

Do it.

I dig my hands into her short hair and tug. This time, she allows me to pull her up my body and settles on top of me, our legs intertwined. By all rights, I should be completely sated from orgasming so hard, but all it did was stoke my need for her higher. I pour that need into a kiss, getting drunk from the taste of myself on her lips.

Medusa makes a little moan and then her arms are tightening around me. She pulls me closer yet, wrapping me up in her strength. It’s only when her strong thigh slides between mine that I realize her aim.

I break the kiss. “I want you to come.”

“Later,” she murmurs against my lips. She hooks the back of one of my knees and hitches it higher around her waist, guiding me to ride her thigh. “Kiss me.”

I shiver at the intense look in her dark eyes. “I don’t understand why you won’t take what I want to give.”

“Because, Calypso.” She presses a kiss to one corner of my mouth. “Watching you come brings me pleasure.” She kisses the other corner of my mouth. “And people have been taking from you for too long.”

“But—”

“We have all night.” She nips my bottom lip. “Don’t rush me.”

That, of all the things she could say, startles a laugh out of me. “Gods forbid.”

“Now you’re getting the idea.” She keeps rocking me against her. “Now, kiss me.”

“Bossy.” I loop my arms around her neck and tug her face down to mine. She kisses me the same way she touches me; as if I’m something—someone—beyond price. Firm, yes, but the tenderness makes my head spin. I wish I could blame that on the orgasm blooming inside me from the delicious friction of her muscled thigh, but it’s not the source of the warmth surging in my chest.

I’m terribly afraid that I might be falling in love with Medusa.

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