“Your cunt is so snug, so hot, so sweet,” he rasped as he drove deeper. “Spread your legs wider for me. I want my slave’s tight, virgin cunt wrapped around my cock while I empty my balls.”
Oh gods, he was so large, he went so deep, and the liquid heat of him as he spilled himself inside her bathed her insides, turning her molten. She arched up under him, taking him deeper still, wanting to feel all of his body against hers. He held himself just above her, braced on his hands, so she had to raise herself up to feel his chest against her breasts. She knew he was keeping his weight off her so her arms, bound behind and beneath her, wouldn’t cause her any pain, but she ached to feel him fully atop her, covering her with his heat and strength.
“Hades,” she whispered. She kissed his chest, rubbed her cheek against him, rocked under him as he rocked into her. He filled her, stretched her body to the limit, and still she wanted more.
They moved together, flesh to flesh. He took her and gave himself and the pleasure of it left her wordless. This heat, this need was real; everything else was a distant dream. He possessed her utterly and she surrendered to him, his slave in truth, enslaved by the dark desire he awoke in her that nothing else could satisfy.
He grew even larger inside her and then she felt a deep pulsing begin along his shaft, a pulse echoed in her womb. Something burst inside her, like a hidden sun going nova, lighting up her entire being in a shockwave of light and heat as the two of them reached a second consummation together, this one more intense for being fully shared. The glory of it faded by degrees, leaving her aware of the sheen of sweat that coated her skin, the slick satin beneath her, the leashed power of him above her. Inside her. Still wondrously, gloriously deep inside her.
“You are generous to your slave.”
He tilted his head to hers, a knowing smile slanting his sensual lips. “I am not finished fulfilling your request.”
She had asked him to give himself to her. She swallowed hard as his meaning sank in. He withdrew and turned her onto her stomach, stretching out beside her as he stroked her back and her naked buttocks. She wiggled her bound hands, shrugging her shoulders to ease the strain from the unaccustomed position.
“Say the word, and I will untie you.”
“But you won’t free me,” Persephone answered. She turned her cheek against the cool satin, feeling it against her breasts and the sensitive skin of her thighs, and stretched, luxuriating in the caress.
“No, Persephone. I won’t free you.” His tone was gentle but implacable. “I warned you I would not relent. You are mine. I will never let you go.”
“Will you mount me when I am weak from hunger?”
He made a low, rough sound. His hand came down sharply on her backside. The smack made her eyes fly wide open as her inner muscles contracted sharply in a way that was…unexpected. Pleasurable. “You will cease your stubbornness. You will eat and drink. You will bind yourself to me, and to my kingdom, and you will rule it by my side. Or I swear I will keep you my naked slave for eternity.”
“You would not dare,” Persephone said. But fear cracked her certainty. If there were none outside his kingdom who knew who held her, who knew how she was treated, he could do anything he pleased. He might dare to flaunt her before his subjects as she was, and she could do nothing to stop him. Nothing except give him what he demanded of her. He would not humiliate his queen by parading her naked and bound, perhaps even mounting her before an audience while she could do nothing but submit as a slave would.
Oh, he had her in a clever trap. Was there no way out?
“Do you care nothing for my happiness?”
His hand on her backside soothed and caressed away the sting of his smack. “Your happiness is everything to me. Were you happy alone on that bluff, Persephone?”
Alone. The word struck her like a blow. She had been so alone, and she had wanted something more. Look what wanting had wrought. And despite the dilemma she found herself in, she would not choose to go back and ignore the flower, to keep them in their separate realms, never to meet, never to touch. She had not been happy alone.
“You know I was not,” she admitted. “Which changes nothing. Trading one unhappiness for another is no improvement.”
“You do not have to be unhappy with me.” He stroked her, fingers gripping and releasing, massaging her buttocks, moving lower until his fingertips brushed her sex. She shifted her thighs apart so he could pet her there, shameless in her need for his touch. “I can show you wonders you have never guessed exist. I can shower you with jewels and precious metals. I can dress you like a queen. I can introduce you to a world of pleasure you have only begun to sample.”
He would give her anything. He’d said so, and his word was law in this realm. He would deny her nothing, not even himself. But he would not give her his heart. He could not. The dark lord had no heart to give, and while he might continue to take pride in the queen he had won over the centuries, his desire for her would fade. Lust without love was like a flower cut from the stem that gave it life and color and fragrance. It would fade and wither.
And she would wither and fade from the lack. She had always been beloved. If he could not love her, he must send her back to her world.
“Let me go.” Her voice thickened from unshed tears.
“I cannot.” He covered her body with his, his penis pressing into the valley between her buttocks. “I will not.” He moved on her, the heat of his body seducing, persuading. “You are mine. I will make you mine again and again, until you admit you belong to me.”
“I am your slave.” Her body was enslaved by his, and would only become more so.
“Only because you will not admit you are more.” He slid her hair to one side and kissed the bared nape of her neck. His breath feathered across her skin, tantalizing her. “You belong to me. You belong with me. Stay with me, and never again be alone. My subjects will adore you. The hidden treasures of the Underworld will be yours to discover. And power, Persephone. I will share my power with you.”
Power, yes, but what would she trade for it? Would her heart turn cold? Would that be any consolation to her, to know she was as unloving as she was unloved?
“I cannot stay.”
“Stubborn pride,” Hades said, his tone reproving. “I will still give you what you asked me for.” He rocked on top of her, the hard length of his cock gliding along the cleft of her buttocks until she yearned for him to draw it lower, to press it between her thighs, and sheathe himself in her again. “If it is in my power to give, there is nothing I will withhold.”
Love was not within his power to give. She would not ask for it. Pride would not allow her to. But the pleasure of his body, that he could give and she could take without reservation.
This was what she wanted. What she needed. It was enough. It would have to be enough. And when she was restored to the world of life and light, the memory of Hades’ fire would warm her.
He slid a hand under her, lifting her hips up. His thighs moved between hers, pushing hers up and out to raise her naked backside in the air while her chest and cheek rested against the satin sheet. He cupped her pubic mound from underneath, stroking and petting. The sweet heat of his caresses shattered her. His fingertips pressed and glided and searched out the little button of flesh that sent waves of delight through her when he stimulated it.
He massaged that hidden pleasure point while his other hand guided his cock to her entry. She wondered how she looked to him, her buttocks pale and gleaming in the dim light, the folds of her sex darkened to shades of deep rose. She could see nothing; he could see everything. She could only wait and want, her breath coming faster as his hand manipulated her flesh and wrung more and more sensation from her. Then he was thrusting deep, filling her in a long, slow glide as the head worked in and the shaft pressed home.
He curled his body over hers, kneeling behind and over her. One arm wrapped around her waist, hugging her tight while his fingertips plucked and stroked her sex, all the while
fucking his way deeper into her.
“Your body pleases me,” he whispered, kissing the delicate skin below her ear. “You fit me like a hot, tight glove of wet silk.”
“Your body pleases me,” she whispered back, pleasure-drugged and thrumming with need. “Fill me until I believe I will never ache with emptiness again.”
“I will not leave you empty or aching.” He thrust harder. “I will fill you again and again. And while your sweet cunt is stuffed full of my cock, I will pump it full of my cream.”
He was as good as his word, fucking her long and thoroughly, filling her to capacity, and then beyond as he came in thick spurts that filled her womb. As the first jet of fluid bathed her inner walls, she felt her muscles contracting rhythmically, milking his shaft while she cried out her pleasure.
Chapter Five
A long time later, Persephone rested on her side, staring into the fire. Shapes danced there, in flickers that changed too quickly for her to follow. Hades had wrapped himself around her, his chest warming her back, his thighs bracing hers, his spent cock cushioned by her buttocks. His chin rested on top of her hair and his arms were wrapped tightly around her. His hands cupped her breasts and from time to time he squeezed or fondled her.
He’d untied the ribbon and re-bound her hands in front of her. The ends of it trailed down and teased the tops of her thighs.
His lips pressed a kiss against her hair. Hades was generous and gentle with his stolen slave, affectionate, lavishing pleasure on her. It could almost be enough. Almost. If she could be certain that even this much of his regard would be hers to keep.
She imagined him lying entwined with another woman, sating himself and her. Perhaps taking two concubines at a time to his bed, fucking them by turns. She felt cold and sick and opened her eyes wider to unsee that vision. And she beheld Cupid taking form in the fire, knocking an arrow at her.
No, she wanted to cry out, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak as it flew true and the point buried itself in her heart, piercing her to the soul. The pain of it shattered her. Tears spilled down her cheeks in scalding furrows and she drew a ragged breath.
Hades tightened his hold on her. “Persephone?”
“Release me.” She trembled with pain and dread. She could not stay with him, could not suffer from love and watch him turn to the inevitable others.
“Never.” He held her closer, his hands gentle on her in contrast to the harshness in his voice. He caressed her as her heart shattered and broke and held her as she shook with silent tears.
*****
Hades watched as the messenger god made his way in to the throne room of the Underworld. Guards in gleaming armor stepped aside to allow him entrance. Hades awaited him, seated in solitary splendor on his ornate throne. A second seat stood empty beside him.
Hermes paused visibly as he noted the new addition. Only one throne had stood in this room the last time he’d been here.
“Hades, Lord of the Underworld, I greet you.”
“Hermes.” Hades regarded him in broody preoccupation. “Tell me, what do women want?”
“Want, lord?”
“Yes. Want.” Hades sat forward, enunciating more clearly as if he suspected his visitor had grown hard of hearing. “I have never cared if a woman was happy. Now I care. And whatever I give her, it is always wrong. I give her jewels and she thanks me sweetly, but her eyes do not glow like the gems. I give her precious metals worked in every design I can imagine, and her smile does not shine like gold. I dress her more gloriously than flowers in the field, and she droops as if deprived of sun and rain. I keep her with me, and she lowers her head and only speaks when spoken to. I stay away, and she grows even more silent and distant. I cannot please her. So I ask you, what does a woman want?”
“She has given you no clue?” Hermes asked.
“She asks for something I cannot accept.” Hades formed a fist and slammed it against the unyielding stone of his throne. “It cannot be right. It cannot truly be what she wants.”
“What does she ask for?”
“She asks me to release her.” Hades scowled. The earth trembled from the force of his emotion. “How can it be right to take her to my bed and then cast her out of my kingdom, to abandon her and leave her alone?”
“Perhaps she will not be abandoned,” Hermes suggested. “You speak of Persephone?”
“I do.”
“Will she truly be alone? Her mother’s grief has turned the world above to ice and snow. Demeter cherishes her daughter. All who know her love her.”
“She was alone,” Hades rasped out. “Always alone. I brought her here, to me, to rule by my side. Here she is not alone.”
“Yet you admit she is not happy.” Hermes spoke carefully.
“No.” The anger drained out of him. “You say Demeter has turned the world to ice?”
Hermes nodded. “The crops have failed. The people will die. Return Persephone to our world. She does not belong in yours.”
“It is for her to decide where she belongs.” Hades rose to his feet. “I will tell her what you said. I will abide by her choice. I, Hades, have spoken.” He picked up a pomegranate from a golden bowl and strode out.
Hades found Persephone in their bedchamber. He had not thought of it as his since the day he brought her to it. It was theirs, as all he had was hers. But while he would share all his realm with her, she refused to rule it by his side. She would not be his queen.
She would neither eat, nor drink, and events had come to an impasse. Now she must choose, once and for all. He had sworn to abide by her choice, but the thought filled him with dread.
She would leave him. He would never be able to reach her again. Never hear the music of her laughter, bury himself in the wet silk of her body, feel the soft weight of her hair covering his chest while she slept curled close to him, her cheek pillowed over the heart that beat only for her.
It had all seemed so clear when he sent the flower to her. She would take it, he would take her, and once with him, he would win her. She would give him her heart, and at last he would know love. And together they would rule his kingdom of dark dreams and mysteries, full of enough wonders to please her for eternity.
Yet nothing had gone according to his plan.
She sat with her back to him, facing the fire, grooming her long hair with a silver comb he’d given her. “Your throne is completed,” he said by way of greeting. “You must tell me if you wish anything changed or added. It will be as you desire.”
“It is not my throne,” she answered without turning around. “Make it to suit the one who will be your queen.”
“I chose you for my queen.” He spoke without heat, stating it as it was, an irrefutable fact. “If you will not accept the title, it will go unclaimed. Your throne may stand empty forever, but it is no less your place.”
“My place is not here.”
She didn’t sound angry. She sounded sad, lost, and that was what tore at him. Her rage he could weather.
“Are you certain?” He crossed the room and sat beside her. And because he could not be near her and not touch her, he gathered her into his lap and took the comb from her, assuming the task she’d been occupied with. He handed her the pomegranate and noted how she raised it to her nose, inhaling the fruit’s subtle bouquet.
“You’re hungry. Eat,” he urged her, knowing it was useless. Knowing it was also wrong to hope she would, and thus spare him forcing her choice. If only he had more time…but time had run out.
“If I eat, I am bound to your realm.” But she didn’t hand the fruit back to him. She held it in her palm, staring down at it as if it held some secret she longed to fathom.
He drew the comb through a long strand of hair, pausing to carefully loosen a knot lest it pull her tender scalp. “I had a visitor today.”
“Oh?” She stilled. “A woman?”
Did she think her mother would storm the gates of hell? Well, perhaps Demeter would. He shouldn’t put it past her. He would
dare anything for Persephone. He couldn’t expect her mother to love her less. “No. Hermes.”
Persephone relaxed fractionally, and that left him another puzzle to work. Was she relieved, then? Did she want to return to Demeter, or did she hope to remain undiscovered with him? Hades set the questions aside. He had given his word.
“What did he want?” Persephone asked. She leaned into him, and the gesture filled Hades with a mix of frustration and pleasure. She never turned away from him, never rejected his touch. Whether he sought her for sex or for closeness, she always reacted as if she welcomed his touch. At times he even thought she needed him as much as he needed her.
“You.” Hades stated it baldly, bluntly. “He demanded your return.”
She went stiff and still, as if turned to stone. “You refused, of course.”
Hades set the comb down before he hurled it across the room. “I told him it was your choice. That only you could decide where you belonged. And I vowed whatever choice you made to honor it.”
He forced himself to hold her only loosely, not to crush her closer, to rage at her to tell him what she wanted. She loved him, she must love him. He had held her in his arms while Cupid’s bolt took them both in the heart, piercing her and then him with a single shot. She had wept, and he had done his best to comfort her, not understanding then any more than now why she greeted love with tears.
Hades stared down at her bent golden head. Light to his darkness. How could he give her up? How could he keep her?
“Why would you agree to that?” Persephone tipped her head up. Her blue eyes met his, her face impossible to read.
“Many reasons.” He raised her hand, holding the fruit. “You will not eat. I did not take you to watch you suffer. Demeter has turned the world to ice, and the people suffer. I did not take you for that purpose, either. I have built you a throne you will not sit in. I have offered you everything in my realm. I have given you all that I am, all that I have, and you hold yourself apart from me. You will not even say that you love me. Why?”
Bride of Fire Page 3
