She had no time to enjoy the look of him, because as soon as his glamour fell, he reached for her and lifted her off the floor, depositing her on the bed. He kissed her lips again, and then her neck, trailing his tongue over one nipple and the other. He stayed there for a while, working each into a tight bud. Persephone tried to reach for the button of his pants, but he pulled away, laughing.
“Eager for me, Goddess?” he asked, kissing down her stomach, and then her thighs. He sat back on his knees, and Persephone thought he was going to press his mouth to her core once more, but instead he stood, removing each of her shoes and then the rest of his clothing.
She would never tire of seeing him naked. He was sin and sex, and his smell was all around her, clinging to her hair and to her skin. Her eyes fell to his arousal, thick and swollen. She reached for it, unafraid, unthinking, and as her hands surrounded his hot shaft, he hissed.
She liked the sound. She worked him—up and down, from root to tip and with each groan that escaped his mouth, Persephone grew more confident. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the tip of his cock.
“Fuck.”
And then she took him into her mouth and Hades braced himself against her shoulders. She didn’t know what to do—she had never done this before, but she liked the taste of salt on his skin. Her teeth grazed the top of his head as she moved him in and out, and soon his hips moved, too—harder and faster until he pulled her away.
Confused she asked, “Did I do something wrong?”
His laugh was dark, his voice husky, his eyes predatory. “No.”
His hand gripped the back of her neck and he kissed her, his tongue reaching deep before he tore away and said, “Tell me you want me.”
“I want you.” She was breathless and desperate.
He pushed her back, and climbed over her, covering her body with his, stretching out so she felt the press of his erection against her stomach.
“Tell me you lied,” he said.
“I thought words meant nothing.”
He gave her a bruising kiss, and his touch lifted heat from her skin, searing a path everywhere he went.
“Your words matter,” he said. “Only yours.”
She wrapped her legs around his waist and drew him against her heat.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Tell me,” he said. “You used words to tell me you didn’t want me, now use words to say you do.”
“I want you to fuck me,” she said.
He groaned and kissed her hard before teasing her by moving his cock up and down her damp entrance. She pulled him toward her, urging him inside and Hades laughed—she growled, frustrated.
“Patience, darling. I had to wait for you.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice quiet, sincere—and then he filled her completely.
She cried out, head falling back into her pillow. She covered her mouth to keep quiet, but Hades removed her hand,
holding her wrists above her head.
“No, let me hear this,” he said, savagely.
He impaled her over and over again. There was nothing slow or gentle about his movements, and with each thrust, he spoke, and she cried in ecstasy.
“You left me desperate,” he said, pulling out until he was barely inside of her. Then he thrust into her hard.
“I have thought about you every night since.”
Thrust.