And I was ready to burn for him.
Chapter 24
Hades
I traced a path down her body with my mouth, slow and deliberate, savoring the taste of rainwater still clinging to her skin. She trembled beneath me, the slightest shiver rolling through her as I kissed the hollow of her throat. Her pulse thundered against my lips—racing, frantic—and it only fueled the fire clawing at my insides.
Fuck, she was beautiful like this.
Open. Breathless. Mine.
My hands slid up to her breasts, cupping them gently at first, then firmer, the way I knew she liked. Her nipples hardened beneath my thumbs, and when I rolled them slowly, she arched into my touch with a gasp that nearly undid me.
“Do you like that, Persephone?” I murmured against her collarbone, my voice low, unsteady with how badly I needed her. “Do you like it when I touch you like this?”
She nodded, eyes fluttering closed, lips parted on a sigh. She didn’t have to say a word—I could feel her body telling me everything.
And I wanted all of it.
I kept one hand on her chest, fingers teasing lazily as I kissed my way down the delicate line of her stomach. Her skin was soft and warm beneath my mouth, muscles flexing beneath every kiss like she was trying to hold herself together.
She wouldn’t last.
I didn’t want her to.
I moved lower, dragging my tongue across her hip, letting my teeth graze her just enough to make her gasp. Her hands twisted in the sheets, knuckles white. I felt her unraveling beneath every touch, and I whispered filth into her skin—my promises, my intentions, the truth I didn’t dare speak in daylight.
“I want to taste every inch of you,” I growled, my voice a rasp against her navel. “I want to make you scream my name until that’s all you know.”
She whimpered—fuck, that sound—and her hips lifted off the bed, desperate for more. My hand slid between her thighs, and I found her already soaked for me, heat pulsing against my fingers.
“Please,” she whispered, her voice wrecked and needy. “I need you, Hades.”
My name from her lips nearly broke me.
I smiled—slow, dark, dangerous. Not because I had power over her.
Because she’d given it to me.
I slid my fingers against her, then inside—slowly, deliberately. Her body clenched around me, perfect and tight and aching, and the sound she made—it would haunt me for eternity.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” I whispered against her thigh. “You were made for this. For me.”
I moved with purpose, watching her come apart. Her back arched, her lips parted, her hands fisting the sheets like she couldn’t bear the pleasure tearing through her. She was trembling—every part of her begging for release—and I pushed her closer with every thrust of my fingers, every filthy word against her skin.
“Come for me, Persephone.”
And she did.
She cried out my name, body shaking as she shattered in my arms, head thrown back, hair fanned across my sheets like a fallen goddess.
I held her through it, never once looking away.
But I wasn’t done.
Not even close.
Because now that I’d tasted this—her—I knew one thing for certain.
