“The Elysium Fields,” Poppy said to Diego, ignoring the crowd behind them as he climbed onto the stage.
“I don’t think Hades belongs here. But it is the perfect gift for Persephone.”
Her hands were still tangled in his hair, and she pulled him toward her, covering his lips with her own. She flicked her tongue into his mouth and relished his familiar taste. Months of loneliness and need washed over her. She dug her heels into his back and deepened her kisses as she moved against him, spreading a blazing fire though her core.
She’d been in another country for over six months and surviving solely off video chats. Now that she had Diego again, she couldn’t control herself. The audience had melted away, and it was just the two of them. She just needed him. Right now. Her fantasy be damned. She’d come back to their audience, but right now, there was only Diego.
He tightened his grip on her ass, and his tongue swept through her mouth, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. He groaned, squeezing his fist tighter as he pulled away from her. “Slow down,” he ordered.
Letting go of her, he set her on the floor facing the room. And their audience. He prowled in a circle around her, looking her up and down. He picked up a piece of her hair and twirled it around his finger. “Fuck. You’re a sight for sore eyes.” Her eyes followed his, their gazes locked. The hunger in his eyes made every inch of her come to life. She was pretty sure her need was just as obvious.
Slow down. Slow was the last thing she wanted. She wanted his hands on every inch of her. In every inch of her. Diego was torturing her, his dark eyes fixed on hers, a single finger grazing along her collarbone as he circled her, until he stood directly behind her.
Her gaze slid back to the audience. She could see gray outlines scattered throughout the room. Some stood in clusters. Others were on couches or the floor. She could see one couple was pressed up against the wall by the stage. Apparently they wanted the same thing she did.
CHAPTER FOUR
_____________
DIEGO
He stalked around Poppy, taking every last inch of her in. He hadn’t seen her, hadn’t touched her in months, and now he didn’t even know where to start. He stopped behind her and faced the audience. A few pairs of eyes connected with his, and he smiled. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he was going to claim her in front of them all. The audience would go home and fuck their girlfriends and husbands or get off in the shower thinking about their evening with him and Poppy. Hell, one couple hadn’t even waited to get home.
Her copper hair tumbled down her back, and he swept it to the side, her laurel crown fell to the floor as he exposed her naked skin. She was wearing a thin piece of white silk that hung around her neck like a halter, crossed in front of her stomach, and swept around her waist, barely covering her ass. Her back was completely exposed, and he traced his hands across her freckles, like finding constellations in the sky. He’d spent hundreds of nights staring at the marks, playing the exact same game; he knew her flesh better than his own.
He kissed her shoulder and slipped his hands under her dress and wrapped them around her stomach. Pulling her close, he pressed his erection against her curves and whispered, “I’ve missed you.” What was meant to be a private statement echoed through the quiet room. It didn’t take away from his role; Hades would miss the fuck out of Persephone.
She purred and leaned into him, shifting her hips to cradle his cock between her ass cheeks.
His hands traveled up her body until he palmed one of her breasts in each hand. He grazed the pads of his index fingers across her hard nipples, drawing a sigh from her parted lips.
He continued to kiss and nip a trail along her exposed shoulder and up her neck. His cock throbbed, and he held her close as he rocked against her, unable to stop his hungry hips.
“Take off your dress,” he commanded. He wanted the world to see her.
Her hands came to the back of her neck, and she fumbled with a hidden clasp.
“Are you nervous?” he breathed into her hair.
She nodded, her fingers blindly battling with her dress.
“Do you want to stop?”
She shook her head.
“Let me help,” he said loud enough for the crowd to hear. He let go of her breasts, grabbed her dress with both hands, and tore it off her neck. Pieces of metal clattered against the floor, and the dress fell at her feet in a pool of fabric.
He looked out into the audience and saw another couple that appeared to be fucking on a couch, and a man sat front and center fisting his cock, his eyes glued to Poppy. His Poppy. That man could only fucking fantasize about her.
His cock tented his thin costume. He needed to see her. He dragged a hand along her waist as he walked around and stood before her. He fell to his knees in front of her, not wanting to rob anyone else of the view.
She looked down at him and smiled as she reached out and ran a hand through his hair. He leaned into her hand, feeling as if Persephone, the goddess herself, was showing him favor.
His eyes slid down her body. Freckles covered her chest and slowly dissipated the lower his eyes roamed. Her nipples were the fairest pink he’d ever seen. They called to him, cotton-candy peaks begging to be licked and sucked. He leaned forward and covered one with his mouth, his tongue circling around its center. He closed his teeth around her nipple, pressing harder and harder until he heard her gasp. He freed her nipple and blew a stream of warm air across her damp skin before kissing its peak one last time.
Her breath hitched, and she dug her fingers into his scalp. She tried to pull him back to her chest, but he wanted more of her. She had an entire body to worship.
He peppered kisses down her stomach, stopping to swirl his tongue around her belly button, smiling to himself when he heard her moan softly above him. He looked up to her face and saw that her gaze was fixed on the voyeurs in the room. He realized she wasn’t the only one moaning.
He couldn’t stifle the groan that slipped from his mouth when he reached her underwear. They were sheer, golden lace, and he could see the shadow of her pussy through the thin material. His fucking pussy. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her toward him, burying his face in her cunt.
Half a year apart almost destroyed him. She was his light, his home. He’d wanted to beg her not to study abroad, not to leave him. But he couldn’t ask that of her, rob her of that experience. So he let her go, and his days felt barren and empty without her. Video didn’t satiate his need for her. It just fed that monster and made it grow. Holding her again felt better than he’d ever imagined. He was never going to let her go again.
A roar built in his chest as he bent one knee and stood up, throwing her over his shoulder. Hollers and whistles erupted from the room as he carried her across the stage and lay her on a bed of pillows.
He fell to his knees in front of her and dragged her panties down her legs. Her heeled sandals had straps that twisted up her calves and over her knees. He did not have the patience right now to fuck with those. He pulled her toward him and threw her legs over his shoulders, squeezing her thighs and kissing their plump curves. His cock throbbed, begging to be set free. He could wait. He would wait until he had her begging for it.
His mouth moved from the inside of her thighs to her pussy. He opened her with his thumbs and dragged his tongue over her entrance, licking up every last drop of her sweet cream. She moaned and her hips bucked. Six months without his tongue? She would be screaming in no time.
CHAPTER SIX
_____________
POPPY
She almost came the instant Diego’s tongue raked across her cunt. No wonder they made jokes about virgins coming in two strokes. Her entire body ached with need. Every touch from Diego wound her tighter and tighter, and she almost felt ready to snap.
His hair grazed across her skin, waking up thousands of nerve endings at once. His hand skimmed up her body and captured a nipple as his mouth covered her
clit and sucked and licked. She twisted her fingers in his hair, rocking against his mouth. Fire spread through her, and she struggled to get enough breath into her lungs. She bent her knees, digging her heels into his back, and a guttural moan escaped her lips.
She rolled her head to the side to look at the audience. The couple against the wall had already finished and now lay in each other’s arms, watching her, and quiet moans and the pounding of skin against skin echoed from the back of the room. There were still some people sitting on chairs and couches watching the stage.
On one couch, a woman lay between her partner’s legs, his hand buried in her pants. Poppy met her heavy eyes, and the corner of her lips formed a grin.
Diego’s tongue slipped inside her, and a tempest spread through her core. She gasped, scrambling for control as she pulled his hair, dragging him away from her cunt.
“Not yet,” she whispered.
She dropped her legs from his shoulders and pushed herself up onto her knees in front of him, leaning forward to kiss him, sweeping her tongue across his bottom lip, urging him to open up for her. She dragged her nails along the hem of his costume. His breath hitched when she hooked her thumbs under the fabric and dragged his underwear and costume over his hips, and his cock sprung free.
“Lie down,” she urged, her lips barely grazing his.
He swung his legs around and lay down where she’d been moments ago. Roles switched, she straddled his knees. She’d only seen the top of his head since they walked into this room, and she was grateful for a moment to truly look at him. She reached a hand forward and stroked his cock, watching his deep-brown eyes grow heavy and the muscles in his jaw tense.
Bending over, she licked a bead of precum off the crown of his cock.
His breath hitched. “Poppy,” he said in a low, thick voice.
She crawled toward him, stretching her body over his. His arms enveloped her, and their mouths crashed together. His kisses drew every last bit of consciousness from her mind. She devoured his mouth hungrily, and her nipples grazed across his chest as she rocked her hips mindlessly.
His hand left her back, and he guided his cock toward her pussy. She swayed her hips, sliding her slit over the tip of his cock, covering it with her arousal. She whimpered as she slid her clit across his crown. Her core ached, and a fire spread through her body. She was teasing herself as much as she was teasing him.
She dipped her hips, sinking slowly onto his cock, stretching to take all of him. Her body hummed with pleasure. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be so full.
She was still pressed against Diego, and she was drowning in his arms. His hands pressed against her naked flesh, his fingers running along the angles of her shoulder blades. She cradled his face, chafing her palms on his stubble and swallowing his moans as she rocked against him.
She rose to her knees, lifting her gaze and looking out into the audience as she slid off his cock until just the crown rested inside her and then slid down his shaft. Again and again. She rode his cock, looking from person to person, stopping on the man who had his own hand wrapped around his dick. She smiled, and fire thundered through her body.
Diego’s hand on her hips guided her movement, his fingers pressing against her hip bones hard enough to leave bruises. She rose and fell in a steady rhythm until his hands slammed her down to his lap, and he let go of her waist and brought his thumb to her clit.
She gasped and ground her hips against his hand. Each circle of his thumb dragged her closer and closer to oblivion. She tore her eyes from the audience and bent over him once again, whispering his name over and over between ragged breaths, their game and roles long forgotten. She raked her hands through his hair and let out a low and primal moan.
“Now, now, now,” she said through pants and sighs as she pressed her mouth to his. Her body tensed, and waves of pleasure and relief washed over her. She arched her back, and her pussy spasmed around his cock as she slid along his shaft, crashing into him again and again until she finally relaxed and melted into his chest. She closed her eyes and breathed his familiar scent of coffee and cloves.
He enveloped her in his arms. His hips bucked, driving his cock into her as he spilled his seed and cried her name.
She scattered slow, lazy kisses across his face. The rest of the world fell away. The crowd was completely forgotten. It was just her and Diego, just for these few precious seconds.
“I wish I could fall asleep right here. I don’t want to leave you yet,” she said.
“You don’t have to. We’re going home as soon as I can move.”
“Out of practice?” she teased. “I thought Hades would be a mean and wicked lover.”
“Just wait. I’m not letting you out of the house for the next three days. We can revisit Hades and Persephone, and I’ll fuck you like the vengeful god of the underworld.”
“Yes, please,” she said, closing her eyes, her head resting on his chest, relishing in the feeling of Diego inside her.
THE END
Thank you for reading!
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Also by Liza Mitchell
Deep Desires
Post Mate
Between the Stacks
Flowers in Her Hair
On Her Trail
Private Lessons
On Display
Catching Her Breath (November 2019)
Hot Pursuit
Victim of Desire
Victim of Seduction
Victim of Revenge (November 2019)
Victim of Devotion (December 2019)
Something Wicked
Unraveling a Witch
An Untouched Witch
An Untamed Witch
An Unclaimed Witch
Walking Shadows
Bound by Blood
Absolved by Blood
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About the Author
Liza writes short safe contemporary and paranormal romances. She is an avid reader and coffee drinker with a passion for spending as little time in reality as possible. She a hobby farmer, wife, and mother wearing black and herding cats in Northern Michigan.
www.lizamitchell.com
On Display (Deep Desires) Page 2
