Page 35 of Sweet Obsession

His hands land on my hips, but I pull back enough to say, “Hands on the bed. Don’t move them.”

“Icarus.” My name is a plea on his lips. I fucking love it.

“You want to be my good boy, don’t you?” I gently bite his bottom lip, purposefully keeping the contact just shy of painful. “You want to please me.”

He shivers. “Yes.”

“Then keep your hands on the bed.” I barely wait for him to obey before I’m kissing him again, claiming his mouth as if I have any fucking right to it. As if I’m not setting us both up for heartbreak. I shift closer, grinding my cock against his. The jeans are too thick a barrier. It’s almost painful for me and it damn well better be painful for him, but he just moans and sucks on my tongue. More and more and more, until I have to jerk away from him to prevent the pleasure from getting the best of me.

I stand on shaking legs and strive to get the dominance back in my voice, the snap of command instead of wanton need. “Bend over the bed.”

Poseidon blinks a few times. It eases something deep inside me that he’s just as caught up in the spell of this moment as I am. He moves before I have to repeat myself, lumbering to his feet and bending over the bed. This frame isn’t as high as the one I sleep in back at the guesthouse; even bracing his forearms on the mattress, his hips are higher than his torso. Perfect.

I press my hand to the center of his back. “All the way down, big guy.”

He groans and arches into my touch, but he obeys. Of course he obeys. Poseidon has been carrying around the weight of the worldfor all of his adult life. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to hand over the control, just for a little while.

Maybe it feels as good for him as it does for me totakecontrol. My life has been a never-ending spiral, dragging me along for the ride. Here, with him, in this moment, the ground finally feels steady beneath my feet.

I have the strangest desire to be worthy of the gift he gives me, of the responsibility he’s so willingly handed over.

I ease back, stroking slow circles over his wide back. “If we ever get the opportunity, I want to map your freckles with hot wax.” He shivers under my touch. “Would you like that?”

“Yes,” he moans.

“Then we will,” I say simply. There are Dominants who like to play true head-fuck games, but if given a choice, I’ll always lean toward simpler measures. A few well-placed words can do as much as caning someone—and the echoes will stay long after a bruise has faded. I press lightly against the small of his back, and he responds by arching his spine, offering his ass to me. My mouth goes dry. I can’t believe this is happening. “Your safe word.”

“Trident.” No hesitation. Only pure trust—trust I don’t deserve. I’ve never fucking deserved it. I always mess things up, manage to disappoint the people I care about the most. It’s easy to be perfect when you’re just a forbidden bed partner and presenting a fantasy to someone who’s only seeking that. This issupposedto be like those encounters, a seduction that ultimately benefits me. It…doesn’t.

It matters.

I massage the muscles on either side of the small of his back, trying to buy myself some time. I’m not prepared to deal with themessy emotions sloshing about inside me. Not now. Not ever, if I have anything to say about it.

“Hands flat on the bed.” I barely wait for him to obey before I bring my palm down on his bare ass. Yesterday I reddened his skin enough to release the ugly feeling riding him. Tonight, I’m going to leave my marks—as many of them as I can manage. I keep my hand on his lower back and alternate my strikes, warming us both up. A proper beating is a workout, and I’m out of shape.

Not that he needs much work. By the seventh strike, when I’m really getting a good rhythm and increasing my power, he’s shivering and shaking and moaning. I’m not holding him down in any meaningful way. It’s exceedingly cute how he starts to retreat from every hit but somehow ends up arching his back deeper by the time the pain blossoms. “You are agift,” I murmur. I spank him again, the hardest blow yet, before he can argue with me.

“Icarus,please.” Poseidon presses his face to the bed and then lifts his head. “I can’t take anymore.”

“You’re doing wonderfully.” I move behind him and squeeze his big ass, filling my hands with the curve of him. His skin is a deep red that’s bordering on purple in a few places. He’ll be feeling me through tomorrow, at least. I pull his cheeks apart and hold him like that, vulnerable and exposed to me. “Tell me how you want it.”

“However…however you want to give it to me.”

I close my eyes and strive for control. How the fuck hasn’t this man been snatched up and locked in someone’s dungeon? He’s too sweet, too trusting. I could destroy him, and I have the sudden suspicion that he’d thank me for it afterward.

Not tonight. I have to do this right. If he’s not going to take care of himself, then I’ll do it for him. I squeeze his ass tighter, making him whimper. “That is not an answer, Poseidon. It’s a cop-out.”

“Icarus—”

Gods, but I love the way he says my name. I release his ass and give him a little slap. “Tell me. Explicitly. Use your words, big guy.”

He makes that delicious whimper again and fists the comforter before he remembers my command to keep his hands flat. It’s amazing how such a small movement makes me feel like I can soar.

Poseidon presses his head hard to the bed, every muscle in his back tensing. “I want you to…” He drags in a breath that feels sucked directly from my lungs. “I want you to fuck me, Icarus. I want it to hurt.”

I have to close my eyes and count slowly to prevent myself from coming on the spot. Holy fuck. I… Gods. Focus. I just need to focus. Another night, another time, I’d give him the exact opposite, would go slow and soft and prolong it until we’re both a mess. But trust is built one block at a time, and his honesty deserves the reward of giving him exactly what he had the courage to ask for.

“One last question,” I murmur. “When is the last time you had someone here?”

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