Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Icarus rakes his short nails down my stomach. “Hands on the headboard, please.”
I blink at him, dazed enough that it takes a few beats for the order to penetrate. He waits me out, seeming pleased by his effect on me. I finally dredge up the concentration to force my body to move, shifting to grip the bottom of the headboard. I feel more exposed like this, even though I’m not more exposed than I was mere seconds ago.
“Very good.” He leans down and sets his teeth into the curve of my pectoral muscle. It’s not quite a bite, but my brain doesn’t know that.
I moan and arch my back. “Icarus, please.”
“Be careful, big guy. I might get addicted to your begging.” He moves down my body, lightly biting along the curve of my stomach. It’s not nearly as painful as the scratching and pinching, but it makes me jolt every time.
Until he reaches my cock…and bypasses it entirely.
I make a sound of protest and Icarus chuckles warmly. “What did I tell you before? There can be pain in pleasure.” He shifts off my legs and pushes them wide. His breath ghosts over my length and then he kisses my inner thigh. “Patience is a virtue.”
“Says who?” I sound almost petulant, something I’ve never been accused of. “Hurt me. Or suck my dick. Or—”
“Poseidon.” There’s no censure in the way he says my name, only amusement. Icarus squeezes my thighs. “It’s cute that you think you can rush me.”
Maybe it should be aggravating that I’m unraveling at the seams and he’s perfectly in control, but it makes me feel safe. I can afford to lose control because he’ll be there to catch me when I do. “I’m sorry.”
“Mmm.” He cups my balls, nearly sending me out of my skin. “You will be, big guy.” And then he gives me what I thought I wanted—his mouth on my cock. He drags a messy kiss up my length and flicks his tongue against the sensitive underside of my head. Wet and slick and nowhere near enough.
The bastard knows it, too. He keeps kissing my cock lazily, winding me tighter and tighter. But it’s never enough to push me over the edge. My world narrows down to the slow slide of his tongue, the softness of his lips, the barest hint of his teeth.
Icarus wraps his hand around the base of my cock and squeezes hard enough that I cry out. He pauses. “Too much?”
Too much? Is there such a thing when it comes to this man? Surely not.
He starts to loosen his grip. “Poseidon?”
“Not too much,” I manage, my voice strangled. “Don’t stop.”
His only response is to suck my cock down—finally—until his lips meet his fist. He squeezes me even harder, the near-pain a perfect counterpoint to the slick feeling of his mouth. It’s so good that my balls go tight and my vision blacks out.
But, even as I lose control, I don’t come. I…can’t.
“Icarus?” I rasp.
He eases off me enough to say, “Your orgasms belong to me, big guy. You don’t come until I give you permission—and I haven’t done that yet, have I?”
I swallow hard and then do it again. “No?”
“That’s right. I haven’t.” He smiles at me, happier than I’ve ever seen him. It shines from his eyes. “Now, unless the next word out of your mouth is your safe word, don’t interrupt me again.”
29
Icarus
If there was going to be a mark to seduce me into falling for them, Poseidon’s the only one who could have managed it. The man has no deception in him. It’s refreshing, even if many of our conversations have been uncomfortably frank. With this man, I’ll never have to wonder where I stand.
And where I stand?
He’s watching me with something like wonder. It defies belief that he’s managed to live this long when every thought is right there on his face. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it, even as it warms me right through. It makes my skin go hot, and I have the uncomfortable suspicion that I’m blushing.
Instead of addressing that, I take his cock back into my mouth and resume tormenting him. He’s wide and thick. My jaw already aches—I’m out of practice—but I’m not about to stop, not when his thighs are shaking and he’s gripping the headboard so tightly it’s a wonder he doesn’t warp the metal. He’s certainly strong enough to manage it.
“Icarus.”
The pleading desperation gets me. If we had more than a few hours, if we had days and weeks and months and years, I would keep him on this knife’s edge until all the fight went out of his big body and he wasn’t capable of doing anything but take what I give to him. Until I’d imprinted myself right into his soul.
We don’t have that kind of time.