Marco touches himself. Long, languid strokes, his fist sliding from base to tip. His breathing deepens as he picks up the pace, thumb circling the head before sliding back down. The chain grows taut as his grip tightens, pulling my neck toward him.
Fuck, I want him so badly. Just one taste.
I slip my hand down between my legs, desperate for some relief from this agony he’s putting me through. But this infernal collar. He yanks me so hard I almost fall over, steadying me with that commanding foot of his.
His eyes never leave me as he works himself faster, harder. I watch the muscles in his forearm flex with each stroke, watch his lips part as his breathing becomes ragged. The sound fills the room—skin against skin, his quiet gasps, the clink of the chain.
“Marco, please.”
Without warning, he breaks that intense eye contact, snaps his eyes shut. His hand becomes a blur, pounding his cock so fast I can barely track the movement.
He cries out—loud, raw, desperate—and thick ropes of cum shoot across the marble floor.
Fuck. He’s like a god. His big dick, his enormous thighs, that light sweat about his beautiful brow. I want to lick him all over. And those dark, angry, distant, deep eyes, fixed on me.
We stare at each other across the space between us. His chest heaves, cock still twitching in his grip. The silence stretches as taut as the chain connecting us. His dark eyes burn into mine, wild, undone, hungry.
And then he says, “Lick it up.”
It’s degrading. Or it’s supposed to be. It’s supposed to be Marco testing me, Marco showing me he doesn’t need me. That I’m nothing to him. Not even worth sticking his cock into.
But he does need me. Because there’s no other man in this world who could turn him on as much as I’m about to.
I lean forward and lap it up, tongue flat against the cool stone.
It’s everything I want.
Atrean salt. Heat. Him.
My cock throbs against my shorts as I chase every drop, the marble cold against my knees, the chain pulling taut as I move. He’s surely watching me, but I have to check—I glance up through my lashes to catch his eyes fluttering open, and the hunger in his gaze only fuels me. I hold that stare as I lick the last traces from the stone, savoring the way his chest rises and falls, the way his lips part like he wants to say my name.
I don’t stop until I’ve cleaned every drop from the floor.
I climb to my feet, the chain clinking as I close the distance between us. Marco’s breathing is still uneven, his cock slowly softening in his hand, but he doesn’t step back. Doesn’t push me away.
He lets me come to him.
I press my lips to his, and this time he doesn’t turn his head. His mouth opens. My tongue is still coated with him, and I brush it against his, letting him taste himself on me. Marco’s tongue lashes against mine, even if that’s the only part of him he’ll let show his feelings. He lets me take what I need. Lets me explore his mouth, lets me press closer until my bare chest touches the silk of his tunic. His lips are soft, pliant under mine.
His hand comes up to touch my collar, fingers sliding along the bronze until they find the hollow of my collarbone. He holds me there, not pulling me closer but not letting me go either.
I pull back just enough to speak, our lips still brushing. “It doesn’t matter what you do or say, Marco. I’m yours.”
I kiss him again, quick and fierce, tasting the sharp intake of his breath.
“And you’re mine.”
His fingers tighten on the collar for just a moment, and I see something flicker across his face—want, fear, surrender. All of it there and gone so fast I might have imagined it.
I reach down and gently unravel the chain from his other hand. Our fingers brush as he releases it, and oh, how Ifeelthe tremor that runs through him. The weight of the metal settles into my palm, cold and final.
Without another word, I take my clothes, turn and walk toward the entrance, where the guards wait just outside in the shadows. My bare feet make no sound against the marble, but the chain drags behind me with each step, a whisper of metal against stone.
I don’t look back. But I know he’s watching me.
Chapter twenty-five
Marco: Lair of Ladon
