Seductively, she wriggles out of the gown, laying it on the chair behind her. Persephone leans out of view of the mirror, showing me the curve of her ass, and then returns and sits naked before the mirror, waiting for me to speak.
“You said you were wet, my queen. So soon?” I murmur.
“From the moment I saw your face,” she says and stops short before finishing, glancing away. A beautiful blush colors her cheeks. Is she only pretending to be shy? The rest of her body is arched proudly toward me, showing off her mouthwatering curves. “When I think of you. Every moment. My body craves you.”
“Show me.” My voice almost gives out. “Spread your legs and show me, my queen.”
Persephone parts her knees. Slowly. Deliberately. I think we’re both holding our breath. I’m certainly holding mine. I keep my eyes on her face until I cannot, not for another moment, then let my gaze trail down over her breasts and her belly and finally between her legs.
My cock is painfully rigid at the sight of my queen. My lover and my divine equal. Her sweet pussy is slightly swollen with her arousal, peeking open to reveal her core. Fuck me. I need her more than I could have known.
For a few moments, I don’t have any kind of existence. I’m nothing but my gaze, and it’s locked between Persephone’s thighs, and whatever remains of my being is blistering with primal need.
I roll the heel of my hand over my shaft and swallow thickly. How I need her. Everything in me needs her and to have her pleasure like I did before.
“Touch yourself,” I rasp.
Persephone exhales, her lashes fluttering. “How, my king?” A groan of satisfaction leaves me as my cock leaks precum.
“Your fingers. Your clit. Touch yourself,” I reply almost too quickly.
She makes a show of it, brushing them slowly down between her breasts, following the same path as my heated gaze. I watch her skim her fingers over her belly button, then the crease of her thigh, and then finally I watch her find her clit and circle it, teasing herself before she finally presses her middle fingers over it and circles.
The small moan is a sound I’ll remember for all of eternity. Her head falls back onto the chair behind her, but she lifts it up again to look at her own fingers.
How I manage to speak, I don’t know. “Does it feel good, my queen?”
“Not—” She shivers, which must mean her touch is more firm and greedy. “Not as good as you feel.” Her whisper is a beautiful sin.
I groan out loud. “I want you to put two of your fingers inside yourself.”
She nods her understanding and slides her other hand between her legs, her fingers tentative at her opening before pushing in. Persephone stifles a louder moan behind closed lips.
“Beautiful,” I praise, and catch myself on the frame of the mirror before I realize I have reached for it. “Take your fingers. Take them in deep.”
“Not as deep as you,” she breathes, almost a whine. “Not as good as you.” My love needs me. Fuck, I need her too.
“Pretend,” I order her. “Pretend it’s me. Pretend I’m there with you.” I stroke myself with more vigor. “Faster, my queen. Harder. Do not hold yourself back.”
I need this, I almost say but hold myself back. I’m too entranced by how she works her hips into her own fingers, her eyes closed. This is what she looks like when she thinks of me. This is what my queen looks like when she must take her pleasures in my absence.
I hate it, and yet I am proud of her. Proud that she can feel so deeply. Proud that she can take such joy in her own body. The duality is torture only because I have no choice in the matter.
Persephone makes a small feminine groan of pleasure, her fingers moving faster, and then she tenses, her body arching as she comes with a low cry. She closes her mouth and rides out her orgasm, pushing her face into the chair’s cushion to hide her sounds.
It’s more than pleasure surrounding her. It’s power. I can feel it through the mirror. The fires in my andron flare brighter, as if they can sense her power, too. She is every bit a goddess in her divine pleasure.
When she’s finished, she falls limp onto the throne, panting, and drags her fingers slowly away from her pussy.
Then she peeks out of the corner of her eye and lifts her slick fingers to her mouth. Oh fuck me.
I watch, wordless, as she sucks her arousal off her fingers, her gorgeous eyes locked on mine. I wish nothing more than to grab her wrist and lick her fingers myself. Mine. She is mine.
It’s only when her gaze falls to my cock that I realize I’ve paused my own movements. Although I’m harder than I can ever remember and in dire need. In need of her. My queen who escapes my touch.
Persephone watches me with something like concern in her eyes.
“What about you, my king?” she questions, her tone gentle.
