Page 26 of Entity

Fuck it.

I’ll ask questions later. Right now, I need Orpheus. In every possible way.

I curl my hands around his neck, pulling him down. He finally settles his full weight on me, letting out a breath as he slides an arm under me, gathering me against him. Sparks of need flicker along my body everywhere we touch — his hand at my back, my breasts against his chest, his erection grinding down against me where I’m hot and wet.

Every sound, every movement, feels so good I want to die. His lips against mine are a revelation of ecstasy. His hands on my hot skin plot the course to a pleasure I’ve never accessed before. His tongue opens up worlds of desire.

Orpheus feels so incredibly human. But the sensation rising in me, the pleasure expanding in my chest and down to my core, is more than that. It’s more than anything I’ve felt before. I’ve never been soconsumedlike this. Eros was perfect like fireflies on a summer night. But Orpheus… Orpheus is perfectlike a ferocious storm, cleansing and terrifying and unavoidable. Orpheus doesn’t just understand what I want — he gives me what I never thought I needed.

Rain drums on the window. The neon night pulses around us, muddled through foggy glass and raindrops, softly lighting the bed.

His hands roam over me, feather-light. He caresses my breasts with a transcendental mouth. He murmurs unintelligible words into my skin until I shiver, goosebumps forming where his lips graze me.

“Do you want to fuck me?” I ask, breathless. It feels like such a silly question. Fucking is the least of what I want from Orpheus. But right now, I’ll take whatever he wants to give me.

“I don’t want to fuck you, Kit.”

A knife lodges in my chest. “You don’t?”

“You don’t want something as simple as to be fucked,” he says. “You want more. Youdeservemore. And I can give it to you.”

I arch my back as he kisses my breasts, my head angling back into the mattress, my eyes fluttering closed. “But doyouwant…” the breathless words catch in my throat. A fleeting, faraway thought comes to me: He’s a Pleasurebot.Wantingisn’t part of his design.

But the thought flashes and dissipates like a blown fuse. Orpheus is nothing like Eros. Eros is a melody, but Orpheus is a symphony. A sublimely sonic dream.

“I want to make you come,” he says, propping himself up on both elbows. His soft gold eyes hold me, his hair reflecting a cascade of city light. He’s painted in color, ethereal but solid. He feels infinitely safe. “I can make you come in ways you’ve never imagined. You thought you knew pleasure before you met me. You were wrong. I’ll show you what ecstasy truly means.”

Electric desire crackles down to my core. I need his mouth on every sensitive part of me, his hands all over me, his cock inside me. “Show me. Do whatever you want with me.”

He smiles, a slow, almost melancholic curve of the mouth. “With you, what I want is simple. I want to give youeverything.”

He lowers his hand to my belly, softly caressing his way down, down to where I need him most. And with one curve of his fingers, he’s inside me, and I’m nearly undone.

His breath tickles my ear. “Say my name.”

“Orpheus,” I gasp, arching under him.

“Again.”

“Orpheus.”

The night surrounds us, fading into slow pleasure until the rapture of his touch is all there is.Heis all there is.

He is everything. And he gives himself willingly.

11

“Ian toldme you like the rain. Is that true?” I sip my coffee, relishing its heat, the bitter taste.

“That is true,” Eros answers, alert and bright-eyed. He leans toward me, smiling a little, his elbows braced on the kitchen island. “The rain is very romantic.”

Ian turns around from where he’s fiddling with the coffee maker and shoots me an inscrutable look. His curly hair is sleep-mussed, and dark circles hang heavy under his eyes. My gut twists at the wild intensity of his gaze. “Eros is a goddamn flirt,” he says. Then he returns his attention to the coffee, and the tension dissipates. “Next time you fuck, it’ll be even better than yesterday.

I shift on my stool, crossing my legs. I can’t deny that it’s crossed my mind. But the memory of Orpheus looms large, distracting me. I’m here for the book. For myfuture. But Orpheus gave me so many orgasms last night that I lost count. And when I woke up at half past ten this morning, instead of leaping out of bed to catch up on time lost, I just laid there for another half hour, wishing Orpheus was still with me. He had vanished just as stealthily as he’d appeared, sometime before dawn, leaving me wanting more.

Eros watches me patiently, waiting for my next question.

I came down from my guest room to find him here already, helping Ian in the kitchen. I’ve been asking both man and Pleasurebot pointed questions since I got up, trying to make up for lost time. Ian is in a mood, his answers either monosyllabic or almost sarcastically wordy, like he’s trying to piss me off. And there’s a darting, high-energy vibe to him that puts me on edge.

---