Page 60 of Odin
He carefully unclasps the locket while I stand there frozen in a thin white slip with nothing on underneath but a tiny lace bralette and a white lace thong.
I need something to do with my hands. I remove my earrings, since water will probably ruin them and they were a gift I want to take care of. I pass them to Odin, and he takes them, his hand closing over mine in a way that shouldn’t be erotic but is. he places them on my dress, beside the locket.
He’s just as careful removing my slip. It’s vintage, like the dress was, and about as thin and delicate as anything could ever be. he folds that too, then tips my face up to him, hisfingers tracing my cheek, the pad of his thumb gliding over my bottom lip.
He kisses me, taking his time, his tongue licking that path his thumb just stroked. He works the bralette off slowly, peeling it up and over my head. He only breaks the kiss when it clears my face, and then his lips are back, hot and searching, hungry and urgent against mine.
He peels away my panties like he’s unwrapping me, and after, he steps back and just looks at me with total and complete reverence.
“You’re so beautiful.” His lips brush over mine. “I wish I had better words to tell you.”
His hands rest lightly at my hips. I frame them with my own and stare up into his face. “The way you look at me is more than enough.” My fingers tremble when I lift my hand and stroke the edge of the eyepatch. “Will you take this off for me?” I’m naked before him, and I’d like him to feel safe enough to be the same. He’s never taken it off, and I know that he’s doing it for my benefit.
He thinks that I’ll be repulsed by what’s beneath, but there’s no part of him that I could ever see as disgusting or ugly.
“They sewed the eyelid shut temporarily, and there was plenty of scarring from before. It’s not pretty, but it’s not a gaping socket or anything. I do have a prosthetic beneath. I just never liked it. It doesn’t look natural to me. I always preferred the patch.”
He lifts from the bottom up, stripping it away.
He’s right that the scarring is bad, but it’s not horrific or frightening. The prosthetic eye looks real enough to me, but I can see how he’d think that it doesn’t, because it won’t act like a real eye, and it obviously doesn’t see. The only thing I feel on seeing the jagged scarring surrounding that prosthetic is a pinch in my stomach at how much it would have hurt to endure the injury and the subsequent healing.
“You’re beautiful too,” I whisper shyly. “And I also wish I had better words.”
“We’ll find them eventually.” He kisses my forehead before he bends and sweeps me up into his arms. He does it so quickly that it’s a shock and I barely bite down a shocked yelp. “It’s getting late, and I want you showered, pleasured, and asleep in short order. You haven’t had a good rest in days, and that’s important, especially right now.”
I do agree, and he’s not wrong, but… “I’m all for that plan, as long as it’s nottooshort.”
He walks me into the small bathroom and sets me down right in front of the shower. He doesn’t motion me inside until he has the spray the perfect temperature. Just watching his massive body in there, muscular and flexing, so perfectly made, has my mouth watering to taste him.
The first thing I do is drop to my knees in the shower, even though he makes a noise of protest. I know that he wants to take care of me, and I do think it’s sexy to have my hair washed and be covered in suds and kisses and worshipped tenderly, but right now, I want him this way.
I wrap my hand around the base of his shaft. He’s still so hard that it looks painful. I love how thick he is in my palm, how his whole body vibrates at just my simple touch.
“It’s been a long day,” he groans out. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Oh, I do. I very much do need to do this.” I sweep my other hand between my legs to tease myself, slicking my fingers through my wetness. I’m completely soaked, though very little of the shower’s spray has even landed on me yet.
I look up at him, and I know that all he sees is how much I want to please him. I want to make him feel good. But I also want this because giving him pleasure givesmepleasure.
He throws one hand against the shower stall when I stroke my palm down the length of his cock and bring it back, straight to the thatch of dark hair at the root of him. I’m always fascinated watching him. I love the glistening beads of precum that form at his head and dribble down in a glossy slick.
His other hand tilts my chin up. He looks down at me with such awe and adoration that my heart clenches. There’s no mistaking the heated desire on his face either. He parts my lips, running the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip like he did in the bedroom. He parts my mouth, opening it up for him.
I’ve never explicitly asked him to take control before. He knows what I need. His hand closes around my wrist and his palm closes over mine. He jacks himself with my hand a few times before he guides his cock to my mouth. I haven’t closed it. I’ve let him watch me down here, waiting to take him. I don’t care if my jaw already hurts or if my lips are getting dry.
He fixes that problem anyway, by bringing his cockhead to my mouth and painting both my upper and lower lip with his precum before he fills my mouth slowly. He doesn’t just ram inside. He goes slowly, letting me play with just the tip ofhim at first. I roll my tongue over him, gathering up more of the salty liquid, pressing against his slit, where I know he’s sensitive.
I glide my tongue over more of him, telling him it’s okay with every enthusiastic pass, for him to help me take him deeper. I suck his tip, then lick all along his shaft. I go until I can’t take anything more, then pull back and do it again, drawing him into my mouth as far as I can take him.
I don’t use my hands. He’s so hard that I don’t need to hold him or guide him. I work him with my mouth and he lets me. He doesn’t fuck my face. His control is impeccable. He barely moves at all.
I can take a lot of him, but not nearly all. After a few minutes of setting that pace with my mouth, I finally wrap my hand around his shaft again and work him in tandem.
On one stroke, when I pull back, I’m able to glance up at him. Seeing him with his head tipped back, his mouth slack with pleasure, his lips parted just enough to let out the long breaths that he’s taking. His chest rises and falls and his abs are locked tight. I know that he’s concentrating, forcing himself to go slow, because his breaths are so measured and even. He’s quiet. It’s mostly me making all the noise, little hums of pleasure around his cock as my own pussy pulses and throbs.
“Odin,” I moan before I take him deep.
It’s enough to break his spell of concentration. He immediately threads one hand into my hair. It’s still done up, but I can’t wait for him to ruin it. I would love it if a shower of those pins came out. I’d way rather have Odin’s fingers biting into my scalp.
