Page 50 of A Touch of Chaos

“Did you know she would make a statement?”

He spoke against her ear, his body pressed against hers, his cock settling against her ass.

“How would I have known?” she snapped. “She’s used to exposing everyone else’s truths, not her own.”

He straightened but kept his hand flat on her back.

“You should have known,” he said, hiking her skirt up over her perfect, round ass. “You should have already been prepared to deliver your counterattack.Thatis how this works.”

“So you will punish me for not being a fucking oracle?”

He pushed her legs apart.

“I’m punishing you because I can,” he said as he unbuckled his belt and pants. “Because I want to. Because you make iteasy.”

She shoved her heeled foot into his leg and then pushed up from the table. The back of her head struck his nose and mouth, and he instantly tasted blood. He brought his fingers to his sore lip—she had split it. He ran his tongue over it, but as he did, the ruptured skin healed.

The apple had worked.

His gaze connected with hers, and that was when he saw it. The flash of fear in her eyes. She bolted for the door, and he pounced, catching her around the waist. She twisted in his grasp and hit him in the face, but her strike barely registered. He was too overwhelmed by the blood rushing to his cock and the roaring in his ears.

He pulled her back against him, trapping her hands against her sides and dragging her to the table. She fought, but he was stronger.

He’d only let her make this much progress because he’d wanted the thrill of the fight. Now he just wanted to fuck her.

He shoved her down, bending her over the table and wrenching her arms behind her back.

“Just kill me, you fucking bastard,” she snarled.

He laughed.

“I’m not going to kill you when you ask for it,” he said. “That would be a gift, and I am not generous.”

Theseus shoved her legs apart. He licked his fingers and touched her between her thighs while fisting her hair. She did not fight as he pulled, forcing her back to arch awkwardly.

“Look at her,” he ordered, commanding her to watch the television again. It gave him pleasure to know that he was responsible for the haunted expression on Persephone’s face. “Remember when you promised to write for me?”

“I haven’t stopped,” Helen said between her teeth, and then a guttural sound tore from her throat as his finger slipped inside her. She was wet and he was ready—it was enough. He pulled free of her and drew his cock out, letting the head of it rest against her entrance.

“The longer she goes unchallenged, the more sympathy she will gain, the more worshippers will follow.”

“Nothing I write will bring an end to that.”

“The point, Helen,” he said, gripping her hips, “is to deepen division. Have you forgotten the role of the media?”

She glared at him from over her shoulder, and he smiled wickedly.

“Now be a good girl and take my cock,” he said, shoving balls deep inside her. She gasped, her head falling back. He took advantage of that angle and gripped her hair harder as he thrust inside her. The table squeakedwith his movements, and his eyes fell to his hands, which were streaked with blood from her nails.

It sent a rush of pleasure to his head.

Fuck.

Helen’s breaths were desperate, and her cries were loud. She pushed into him, forcing space between herself and the table so she could touch herself. There was no delusion here—it wasn’t about her pleasure. If she wanted that, she’d have to find it herself. In that way, she reminded him of Ariadne, who let lust move through her, expressing it in whatever way she needed. Sometimes it was delicate, and sometimes it was rough.

That was what made his mouth water.

Helen tensed beneath him, and he gripped her harder, his fingers pressing into her skin. He imagined for a moment that it was the burnished brown of Ariadne’s, and then his hand smoothed up her back, and his fingers found her throat and he squeezed until he was on the brink of ecstasy.

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