Thor fought to control himself as Elle's hands moved up his chest, her fingers threading through his hair. The sensation made him groan.
Elle leaned in with purpose, catching his bottom lip between her teeth before teasing him with a slow slip of her tongue. Thor responded, kissing her with an intensity that belied his restraint, only for her to pull back.
"I'm in charge now." Her voice came out confident, carrying the weight of newfound authority.
Thor couldn't suppress a grin. "Wow. So you've found your big girl voice."
"You've taught me many things, Thor Odinson," she replied with a smirk playing on her lips. "It’s time I show you the creature you’ve unleashed, and what it's like when a woman holds the reins."
His entire body tensed, each muscle coiled like steel wire beneath his skin. As he sat hoping not to break the chair under him, he realized how eager he was for what might come next under her command. It stirred both curiosity and apprehension in equal measure.
“Have you ever let a woman be in control before?” She backed up before undoing the buttons down the side of her dress.
“No,” he admitted, his erection groaning against his leather pants.
She slid the dress from her body agonizingly slowly, spending seconds revealing a mere inch.
Thor's mouth dried. His fingers curled into fists as the golden fabric slid down over her breasts, revealing the white, silky fabric underneath. She moved with deliberate slowness, her hazel eyes never leaving his face as she watched his reaction.
The dress pooled at her feet, and she stepped out of it, standing before him in nothing but the delicate undergarments. The sight of her, confident, powerful, commanding, sent a jolt through him that had nothing to do with his godhood and everything to do with the woman he’d encouraged her to unleash.
Elle walked around behind him, her fingers trailing across his shoulders. Her breath fell against his ear as she leaned close.
"Do you know what it's like," she whispered, "to spend your entire life being told what to do? When to speak, when to be silent, where to stand, how to move?" Her hands slid down his chest, nails dragging through his shirt. "Always at someone else's mercy."
Thor's breathing quickened. He finally understood. She wasn’t just seducing him, but claiming the power that had been stolen from her for so long.
"You're right," he managed, his voice rough. "I did create this. And I wouldn't change a damn thing."
She came around to face him, standing between his spread legs. She flicked her fingers at the fireplace in the corner, and it caught with a small explosion. She flicked another fiery red rope toward the door, and the lights overhead extinguished.
The firelight from the hearth cast dancing shadows across her skin, making her look otherworldly. The delicate white satin did little to hide her form, and Thor had to remind himself to breathe.
"Good answer." She traced a finger along his jaw, then down his throat. "Because I'm not done with you yet."
Elle straddled him again, settling herself against him. Thunder sounded outside, and she smiled. The heat of her core pressed against his erection through his pants, and he flexed hard against the magical bands, making the chair creak.
"Easy," she murmured, rolling her hips. "I told you not to break it."
"Then stop torturing me."
"You think this is torture?" Her eyebrows arched. "Thor Odinson, I haven't even begun."
She kissed him again, deeper this time, her tongue sliding against his as her hands worked at the buttons of his shirt. She worked them free one by one, her fingers brushing against his chest with each movement. The contact sent electricity skittering across his skin. When she finally pushed the shirt open, her palms flattened against his bare chest, and she traced the scars with curious fingertips.
"Tell me about this one," she said, touching a jagged mark that ran from his collarbone to his sternum.
"Ice giant. About fifteen hundred years ago."
She leaned down and pressed her lips to the scar, and Thor's head fell back. The sensation of her mouth on his skin while he couldn't touch her was exquisite agony.
"And this one?" She moved to another scar on his ribs.
"Troll. Norway. Can't remember when."
Another kiss. Another jolt of pleasure. She was mapping him, learning him, claiming every part of him that battle had marked. The bands around his arms tightened as he strained against them, desperate to pull her closer.
"Elle," he groaned. "Please."
