Chapter 8 #3
He didn't hesitate. He entered me with a quick, smooth, satisfying motion, burying himself deep, embedding himself until I felt like he was hitting the very back of my soul. I gasped, my head tossing back against his shoulder as my swollen cunt manacled his massive shaft.
“Fuck!” he hissed, his grip tightening on my hips until I knew I’d see the marks of his fingers by morning.
He began to thrust—hard, long, and deep.
Every pound of his cock felt like it was pulling the secrets out of my blood.
I reached down and my found my clit, rubbing it as he hammered into me, needing to feel the explosion again.
“Daphne, my God,” he muttered. He reached up and grabbed a handful of my hair, pulling my head back so I was forced to look at the moon while he slammed into me.
The dominance was absolute, yet I could feel his heart racing against my spine, a desperate, frantic rhythm that told me he was just as lost in this as I was.
“You fucking love my cock, don’t you?” he growled. “Tell me.”
“Yes! Fuck, yes, I do! I need all of you! Please, Thal, fuck me... It feels amazing!”
He pushed in deeper, pausing for a moment to let me feel the full, throbbing weight of him before pulling all the way out and slamming back inside to the hilt.
Each time I cried out, my breath ragged and raw.
My thirst for this man was insatiable. I’d spent years in a gilded cage, and now that I’d tasted the predator, I never wanted to be safe again.
“Harder!” I demanded, my nails clawing at the metal. “Faster, Thal!”
“Your pussy wants more, huh?” He twisted his grip on my hair, his thrusts becoming a violent, rhythmic blur of friction and heat. “I’ll never be able to get enough of you, Daphne. Never.”
“Don’t stop... Thal, I’m going to come!”
He stopped.
I whimpered in disbelief, my mouth dropping open as the pressure built, denied at the last second. He released my hair and turned me around, his eyes locking onto mine with a storm of primal desire and an unspoken, fierce tenderness that he couldn't quite hide.
“I want to see your face when I make you come,” he demanded, his voice dropping to a gravelly low. He lifted my right leg, hooking it over his hip, and slammed back into me with a force that nearly knocked the air from my lungs.
I wrapped my thigh around him, pulling him as close as humanly possible, surrendering every doubt and every betrayal to the man currently owning my body.
The last golden rays of the sun caught his face—he looked dangerous, beautiful, and utterly obsessed.
As he hammered into me, a flash of reality tried to break through.
I am swinging a wrecking ball into my life, I thought.
Zeno will burn the world for this. But then Thal’s cock hit my G-spot again, and the fear was incinerated.
“Daphne, look at me,” he growled, grinding his cock deep inside my wetness. “Aside from our time alone, you’re in control. But now? Right now?”
“Now what?” I gasped, my vision swimming.
“Tell me whose pussy this is.”
“You know whose it is,” I panted, pulling at his shoulders.
He stopped again. He pulled out completely, his cock hanging heavy and wet between us in the moonlight.
“Thal!” I whined, my body aching for the fullness, my pussy weeping for his return.
“If you want it back, say it,” he instructed, his eyes dark with a terrifying, beautiful authority.
I looked into the desperation in his eyes, the way his knuckles went white as he gripped the railing, and I realized a truth Zeno had never taught me: there was lethal power in being the one who surrendered.
To get what I wanted, I would give him exactly what he craved.
I would wield my submission like a knife to his throat.
I sank to my knees in front of him on the terrace, my breasts brushing his thighs. My fingers curled around his hard, velvety shaft.
“My pussy might be yours, Thal,” I whispered, my tongue darting out to lick the head of his cock. “But this? This beautiful, arrogant cock? It’s mine.”
He growled, his hands finding my hair again, but this time it felt like he was clinging to me for dear life. “You’re the sexiest little vixen, aren’t you? You think you own me?”
“I know I do,” I murmured, sliding my mouth down his shaft.
I enveloped him, my lips sliding over his swollen head, my tongue swirling around the ridge.
He moaned, a low, melodic sound of pure surrender that fueled my ego.
I loved the feel of him throbbing against my tongue, the weight of him in my hands.
I picked up the pace, my hand working in rhythm with my mouth, applying just enough pressure to make him gasp for air.
I kept going, listening to every shiver, every sharp intake of his breath.
I wanted to see the Ice King break. He pushed over the edge with a quick, desperate thrust of his hips, exploding deep inside my mouth.
I licked up every drop, savoring the salty, tangy taste of his pleasure, the taste of my victory.
“Daphne!” His body seized, his thighs quaking as I crawled up his frame, my hard nipples scraping against his skin. He captured my mouth in a kiss that tasted like me, like him, like the end of the world.
When he tore his mouth away, his eyes looked through me. For the first time in my life, I felt truly seen—not as a ward, not as a spy, but as a woman with her own fire.
“You’re right,” he whispered, his palms cupping my cheeks, his gaze filled with a terrifyingly soft devotion. “It’s your cock. All yours.”
He stalked into the bedroom with me in his arms, his stride heavy and purposeful.
He kicked the terrace doors shut behind us, the click of the lock echoing like a finality in the quiet room.
The shift from the biting desert wind to the penthouse's climate-controlled warmth made my skin prickle, my sensitized nipples scraping against his chest as he adjusted his grip.
He didn't set me down gently. He dropped me onto the center of the massive bed, the furs swallowing me as I sprawled there, naked and completely undone.
I looked up at him, my legs falling open in a shameless invitation.
I was raw, physically and emotionally, and the way he looked at me made me feel like the only woman left in the world.
Thal stood at the edge of the bed, his chest heaving, his muscles rippling under the amber glow of the bedside lamps. He gazed down at my pussy, still glistening and swollen from his mouth, and a darkness fell over his eyes that made my blood turn to liquid fire.
Lust. Hunger. A primal, savage need that bordered on worship.
“You’re ruining me, Daphne,” he growled, his voice a low, jagged rasp. “I should be thinking about the syndicate. I should be planning for Zeno. But all I can think about is how much I want to bury myself so deep inside you that I can’t tell where I end and you begin.”
He crawled over me, his weight a delicious, grounding pressure as he pinned my wrists to the mattress.
He positioned the hot, throbbing head of his cock against my entrance and stayed there, teasing the edge of my sanity.
“Tell me again,” he demanded, his nose brushing mine. “Whose pussy is this?”
“Yours,” I gasped, arching my back, my pussy weeping for the fullness of him. “It’s yours, Thal. Please ... fuck me.”
He let out a dark, triumphant sound and slammed into me to the hilt.
I screamed, my eyes rolling back as he filled me, stretching me until I felt like I was breaking in the best possible way.
He claimed me. He grabbed my hips, his fingers digging in with a bruising strength, and began to drive into me with a rhythmic, brutal intensity.
Every thrust was a promise. Every time his cock hit my G-spot, I felt the memory of Zeno’s clinical, cold world being incinerated. I wrapped my legs around his waist, locking my ankles to pull him even deeper, wanting to feel the entire, massive length of him.
“You’re mine,” he hissed, his teeth grazing the sensitive cord of my neck. “In this bed, the rest of the world is dead. There is no King of Olympus. There is only me. And you.”
The power play was an intoxicating blur.
He was the one driving, the one pinning me down, the one demanding my submission, but I saw the way his eyes glazed over when I moaned his name.
I saw the way his hands shook as he gripped me.
He thought he was the master, but as I squeezed his shaft with my internal walls, I realized I was the one holding his heart in my hands.
His words sent me over the edge. My pussy spasmed violently around him, milking his cock in desperate, rhythmic waves. I writhed beneath him, uncontrollable cries escaping my chest as pleasure washed over me, wave after delicious, white-hot wave.
Thal let out a primal roar, his body going rigid as he found his release.
I felt him swell inside me, his heat flooding my core, searing my walls with the intensity of his desire.
He collapsed against me, his breath ragged, his forehead resting against mine as we both tried to remember how to breathe.
But he didn't pull away. Not yet.
When the sensations subsided enough for us to speak, we drew apart just enough to look into each other’s eyes. I saw everything I had ever wanted: a man who didn’t want to cage me, but one who wanted to burn with me.
“I can’t let you go back,” he whispered, his thumb tracing the line of my lower lip. “I know the plan. I know what we’re supposed to do. But the thought of you walking back into that house ... it’s a sickness in my blood.”
I reached up, my hand finding the back of his head and pulling him down for a slow, deep kiss that tasted like surrender. “I have to go back, Thal. For now. But I’m not his anymore. I haven’t been his since the second you touched me.”
He moved over me again, his touch gentle at first, then more urgent as the hunger returned, relentless and all-consuming. We lost ourselves in the moment again, our bodies sliding together in a dance of sweat and need that lasted until the moon was high.
Afterward, we held each other close, our skin slick with a thin sheen of sweat, the heavy, metallic scent of sex lingering in the air. Outside, the Strip's neon lights flickered, but in here, bathed in soft moonlight, we were in a sanctuary that felt safe—for now.
Thal finally drifted off to sleep, his arms wrapped around me like a predator guarding its most precious prize. I lay there, listening to the steady, victorious thud of his heart, and that was when the reprieve ended.
The spinning thoughts returned with the first hint of gray light in the sky.
Every word we’d spoken, every touch we’d shared, it was a death sentence if Zeno found out.
The affair on the island was a secret I could have buried, but this?
Spending the night in Thal’s bed and planning a future that didn’t involve the Olympus?
Frustration and panic washed over me like a tidal wave. Zeno would be genocidal. He saw me as his property, his soul, his "prized car." To Zeno, this wasn't an affair. it was the ultimate theft.
How the fuck was I going to handle this? How was I going to look him in the eye tomorrow while carrying the weight of Thal’s marks on my skin and his scent in my hair?
I looked at Thal’s peaceful face and felt a terrifying realization settle into my marrow. I wasn't just playing a game anymore. I wasn't just a spy. I was a woman who had traded a gilded cage for a beautiful, dangerous war.
I was in too deep now. I was losing control, and the only thing scarier than Zeno finding out was that I didn't regret a single second of it.