Keeping her guessing was a fun game, so instead of rushing to get her naked, he went to his desk and sat in his chair. He took his time making himself comfortable before crooking his finger at her in a way that he was certain would raise her blood pressure.
She didn’t love orders, his Persephone. Indeed, her eyes narrowed, and he waited for her to snort at his imperious, silent command.
But a small smile curved her lips, and she sashayed over to stand in front of him, her dress rippling and briefly defining her legs.
He raised a brow. “You’re in the mood to obey me?”
“I suppose so.”
“Why?”
Her smile grew wider. “Because you want me to disobey you.”
Fuck, but she could read him like a book, and he didn’t like that. He was so contrary, he wanted to reward her earlier kind words and actions by proving her wrong, proving that he was no saint. His dominant, autocratic side stretched out of slumber, not that it ever rested for long. “Take off your dress. With your hands,” he added, so she wouldn’t simply dematerialize it.
She raised her hands to the buttons that ran along the front of the dress. Pearl buttons on a pale pink dress—it was his fantasy, his secret kink, innocence on the verge of being despoiled.
The little V of skin at her throat widened as she released each button, showing him that glorious unblemished flesh. Every time he saw that skin, his selfish, territorial nature made him want to mark it, to claim it as his. He had to forcibly remind himself that Persephone and her skin’s presence in his life was strictly temporary.
A snarl sounded, and he realized by her startled expression that it came from him. She would leave him sooner or later.
But for now…now, she was his. Focus on this moment.
And there was so much to focus on, particularly
when she shrugged the dress off her shoulders, surprising him with the lacy white corset she wore underneath. The garment propped up her breasts, her nipples peeking out from the lace like confections on a cupcake. It was sensory overload, the erotic snatches of her body almost too much to take in at once. Corset. No panties. Garters. A combination of silken flesh and material.
He realized he had been staring at her without speaking when she shifted her weight. “Touch yourself,” he ordered.
A flush spread over her exposed breasts. “Where?”
Anywhere. Everywhere. “Your tits. Play with them.” He deliberately used the cruder word, wanting to shock her into refusing him, perverse bastard that he was.
She didn’t refuse him, though, simply cupped those gloriously full mounds. Her fingers worked the hard nipples, her head falling back with a small moan as she massaged them.
His cock grew harder, pressing against the weight of his trousers, but he knew if he allowed himself release, it would be over before it began. Her legs spread wider as she toyed with her breasts. One delicate hand started to trail down her body to the open lips of her pussy.
Hades allowed her to get as far as her lower belly before he spoke. “Stop.”
She didn’t listen, her fingers tangling in her pubic hair.
“Persephone. Stop.”
She jerked and stared at him, confused and primed for release.
“Come here.” Hades swore the heady scent of sun and flowers clung to her skin, wafting under his nose as she walked closer to him. “Turn around.”
She hesitated but turned when he made a twirling gesture. Her ass was full and round, bare but framed by the garter and corset. It made an enticing picture.
Paying no attention to her jump of surprise, he palmed a cheek and roughly massaged the flesh. “I love your ass,” he murmured. “I love your whole body. It’s like it was made for me. Only for me.”
It took him a second to realize the import of what he’d bleated aloud. Growling in frustration at himself, he grabbed her hips and spun her around. She teetered, steadying after she grasped his forearms for balance.
“Take me out,” he demanded. He spread his legs to give her room to work the buttons on his trousers, which were stretched tight over the bulge of his erection. The slightly bent-over position she was in made her tits hang down like ripe fruit. Unable to resist, he leaned forward and licked the top of those mounds, finding them delicious as usual. She stiffened, her hands stopping their work. He released his hold on the chair’s arms to cradle her breasts and bring them to his mouth. He knew what pleased her. She always liked it when he sucked hard, lashing at the nipple with his tongue, so he did that now, bringing a high-pitched cry from her mouth.
“Don’t stop,” he drew away to tell her. “Take me out. Play with me.”
She trembled. He loved it when he made her shake with need. It made him feel ten feet tall. “I can’t concentrate,” she said.