Page 53 of Sweet Obsession

“Good boy. Now, go get ready for me.”

28

Poseidon

It doesn’t take long to fulfill Icarus’s order and return to the bedside. He’s been busy. He found a candle from somewhere—I don’t usually burn them because the scents irritate me—and has lit it on the nightstand…within easy reach of the bed.

He smiles slowly at me, his body loose and relaxed. “Strip for me, big guy.”

The simple act of taking off my clothes is foreplay with this man. Icarus doesn’t touch me, doesn’t speak, doesn’t do more than watch, and yet by the time I shove off my pants, I’m shaking. I take a moment to fold my clothes so they aren’t in a pile on the floor and then turn to face him.

In the days since I’ve gotten to know Icarus, he’s used charm and flirting to lie, to manipulate, to hide things from me. He’s not hiding anything right now. His desire, hiscare, are right there in his deep-brown eyes, drinking in the sight of me. There’s fear there, too; I’m not so far gone as to miss that.

I swallow hard. “We don’t have to.”

He laughs softly, bitterly. “You really do see too much. I’m not worried about this scene. I’m worried about the rest of the worldon fire.” He motions vaguely to the window. “Now come here, big guy.”

Big guy.

I love it when he calls me that, especially with that almost indulgent look on his face. As if my size is just another part of me that he values as equally as the rest. Not a strong man to be feared. Not a fat man to be ridiculed. Just…me.

It should only require a single step to close the distance between us. It takes me three. I want what he outlined, want whatever pieces of me that he’ll give. The thread of trepidation I feel only seems to heighten with every beat of my heart.

And then I stand before him, naked and imperfect and yet cherished all the same. How can I think otherwise when he’s reaching out to drag his fingers down my arm, over my hand, to lace with mine.

I never understood the concept of someone having their heart in their eyes. It seems a terrible, bloody thing to behold. As I meet Icarus’s gaze, get lost in the depths, I realize itisthat…and so much more. There’s tenderness and care…and even the possibility of love.

Or maybe those are the emotions blossoming inmychest.

He leads me around the bed and urges me down onto my back. I expect him to strip, too, but he merely climbs onto the mattress and straddles my thighs. All while stilllookingat me.

I shift. “Touch me. Please.”

“All in good time, big guy.” He shifts, using his thighs to press mine tightly together. It’s such a small movement, but it slams me back into my body. I hadn’t even realized I was slipping away. There’s no danger of that now. Not with Icarus’s touch drifting overmy arms, my shoulders, my chest, my stomach. My blood seems to gather to his call, making everything sensitized and my skin feel almost too tight. In the past, that sensation has always been something I avoided, but at the same time, it feels different.

I don’t want it to stop.

Icarus pinches my nipples. Hard. The pain happens so fast, it’s as if my brain can’t process it. I jolt and moan, my cock so hard, I’m suddenly afraid that I’ll come without him touching me there.

“There you are,” he murmurs. He pinches my nipples harder, making my back bow. I’m not certain if I’m trying to lean into the touch or get away from it. It’s not as if he’s holding me down; not with anything other than his will. “Too much?” he asks casually, as if he’s not sending agony searing through me.

There’s only one right answer, one true answer. “I can take whatever you want to give me,” I gasp.

“You are a gift.” His tone is a perfect contradiction to the pain making me twist and writhe against him.Thisis what I never expected, this tenderness even as he gives me the pain I crave, washing away every thought in my head. At least temporarily.

All the bad things waiting outside this apartment will still be there when we’re done, but that doesn’t change the way he offers me escape with his gentle words and vicious pain.

Icarus rakes his short nails down my stomach. “Hands on the headboard, please.”

I blink at him, dazed enough that it takes a few beats for the order to penetrate. He waits me out, seeming pleased by his effect on me. I finally dredge up the concentration to force my body to move, shifting to grip the bottom of the headboard. I feel moreexposed like this, even though I’mnotmore exposed than I was mere seconds ago.

“Very good.” He leans down and sets his teeth into the curve of my pectoral muscle. It’s not quite a bite, but my brain doesn’t know that.

I moan and arch my back. “Icarus, please.”

“Be careful, big guy. I might get addicted to your begging.” He moves down my body, lightly biting along the curve of my stomach. It’s not nearly as painful as the scratching and pinching, but it makes me jolt every time.

Until he reaches my cock…and bypasses it entirely.

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