Page 89 of Gods & Angels

I wanted Apollo. I wanted him more than I hated him. More than I loved him. I wanted him to touch me, to ease this hollow, tingling ache between my legs.

I nodded, feeling breathless for no good reason. “I want it,” came out a mere whisper, but he heard.

He pulled away just enough to look at me. As he looked into my eyes, I saw his were feverish, like he was a man possessed. They shone with deep hunger and desire. For me. He actually wanted me.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his hand rubbing over me faster. He dropped his forehead to mine. “Say it again,” he pleaded.

“I want it,” I told him. I took his face in my hands and made him look at me again. “I want you.”

It was almost like a shiver ran over him. Some kind of pleasant disbelief or excitement.

Then his hand was on my cheek and he was kissing me so hard he knocked the breath out of me. A rapid coil of something I didn’t want to name spread in my stomach and surged upward, making my heart skip. He tasted like expensive Scotch and smoky cigars. My arms wrapped around his shoulders as my leg, still around his hip, pulled him closer.

“Jesus, Harlow,” he panted against my lips as he fought my layers of skirts to find my centre once more.

While I was sure the skirts were annoying, I didn’t think that was what the exhalation had been about.

His fingers slid over me, this time making no pit stops on the way to my clit.

As the first zing of pleasure ran through me, I nipped his lip and sucked a hard breath in. Maybe it was a mistake, or maybe it was the perfect reaction. Whatever it was, it seemed to make him ramp it up a notch.

Apollo pushed my panties to the side and slid a finger into me.

My hands fisted in his hair as my whole body clamped around him in the best possible way.

“Fuck, yes,” he chuckled as his nose skimmed along my cheek and his finger pumped me slowly.

My back arched, my breasts pushing up and into him. He dipped his head and kissed the soft flesh above the cut of my dress’ bodice. I lay my head back against the door and let him finger fuck me as his lips blazed flaming passion across my skin. I felt him slide a second finger into me, the middle two now by the feel of it, and he pumped me harder.

Pleasure twisted and curled, building deeper and stronger. As my breathing became more erratic and shallower, he didn’t let up. He went harder. He went faster. My body writhed. His pinned me to the door, making me unable to get away from the onslaught of tingling, growing sensation he was hammering me with, but I didn’t want him to stop either.

One hand snaked above my head like that was going to help me deal with the pressure building inside me. Apollo’s reached up and pinned my wrist to the door. I looked at him and found him staring at me. My breathing was ragged. My legs were weakening. My voice was a whimper of entreaty.

“Don’t stop,” I begged him.

His eyes were liquid heat. He looked at me like he’d never seen me before. Like he couldn’t believe he’d missed me until now.

He let go of my wrist and took hold of the thigh that was around his hip. The fingers in me railed me. No longer was he pumping them in and out. Not in swift, strong motions. It was more front to back. And it did the job. More than satisfactorily. The coil was tightening in me. I could feel myself on the precipice.

“Are you going to cum for me?” he purred in my ear.

He looked into my eyes and I nodded, biting my lip to stop myself from moaning his name. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep it in.

“Say it,” he commanded, his hand sliding up between us to close gently over my neck while the fingers in me were anything but gentle.

I whimpered as my body started involuntarily contracting around him. It was too much. Too sensitive. It wasn’t enough. I wanted him deeper, harder, faster.

“Say it, Harlow.”

I moaned, leaning my head back against the door again. My hands fisted in his hair and on his sleeve. All as though that could stop the eruption that was coming.

“I’m cumming,” I told him, a desperate exhalation as he brought me right to the edge.

“Good girl.”

His lips crashed to mine, his hand was firm but tender on my throat, and his pelvis wedged his hand between us. It was all I need to send me over the edge.

I pulled my lips from his as I cried out, “Oh, god!” and slapped a hand against the door behind me as my entire body curled around him, desperate to keep him where he was but loathe for any more stimulation.

---