5. Medusa #5
“Just…give me a second,” he said, leaning in to brush his lips along her jaw, his hand exploring her like he was memorizing every inch. “I’ve been wanting to touch you like this for days.”
His hand slid even lower, fingers slipping into her leggings and grazing her clit, and he chuckled—a warm, wicked sound against her skin.
“Gods, you feel good,” he murmured.
Medusa opened her mouth to scold him, to say Perseus, stop being an idiot, but all that came out was a shaky exhale. She tried to look annoyed, tried to summon a glare, but the heat sparking through her body made it impossible.
“Don’t laugh at me,” she managed, though her voice was far too breathless to sound convincing.
He only grinned wider. “Can’t help it. You’re cute when you’re pretending you’re not enjoying this.”
His fingers traced a slow, maddening path, dipping closer to where she was already pulsing with need. Sparks shot through her body, and she let out a small, helpless sound as she leaned into him, pressing her forehead to his shoulder.
“Poor thing,” he murmured near her ear. “Is it hurting that bad? I could make it all feel so much better.”
She let out a shaky breath, half growl, half whimper. “Don’t tease me.”
“Oh, I’m not teasing. I’m offering a very practical solution.” His fingers brushed even closer, sending another shockwave through her. “Why suffer when I could make you feel amazing?”
She squeezed her eyes shut, her snakelets hissing softly as her body practically vibrated with the growing need. “Perseu sss …”
“Hmm?” he said innocently, his fingers pressing more firmly against her heat.
“Just…do it already,” she snapped, her voice trembling with want.
“That’s all you had to say.”
In one swift motion, he scooped her up, carrying her like she weighed nothing, and strode toward her bedroom. She clutched his shoulders, half dazed, half embarrassed, but the heat was roaring through her veins, and she couldn’t bring herself to protest.
He set her down on the bed, and his mouth was on hers before she could think, devouring her with a kiss so deep it made her toes curl. His hands were everywhere—skimming over her ribs, her waist, sliding under her sweater to stroke her bare skin.
She gasped when he slipped a hand between her thighs, fingers finding her through the thin fabric of her leggings. The jolt of pleasure made her hips jerk against his palm.
“Gods, Medusa,” he murmured, his voice husky, “you’re already so wet for me.”
She tried to scowl at him, but another swipe of his fingers made her moan instead.
He pushed her leggings and panties down and eased her thighs apart, settling between them. The first slide of his fingers against her made her arch off the bed, a cry slipping from her lips before she could swallow it back.
“Per sss —”
“Shh.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips as his fingers began a steady rhythm, stroking and circling, each touch driving her closer to the edge. “Let me take care of you.”
She buried her fingers in his hair, trembling. The snakelets writhed around her head, agitated and eager as her body climbed higher and higher.
“Fuck…don’t stop…” she gasped, breath breaking.
He slid a finger inside her, then another, curling them perfectly as his thumb kept circling that sensitive spot. The pressure, the heat, the sweet relentless friction—it all built in a tight, blazing coil inside her.
She was panting, hips rocking against his hand, chasing that final burst of release.
When it finally broke over her, it was like lightning splitting her in two. She cried out, stars bursting behind her eyes, as her body clenched around his fingers, wave after wave of pleasure rolling through her.
He held her through it, kissing her neck and murmuring low praises, until she sagged boneless and trembling against the sheets.
“Better?” he asked, brushing his lips against her ear, fingers still lazily teasing her overstimulated body.
She could barely catch her breath enough to glare at him. “Shut up.”
But even as she said it, she couldn’t help the blissed-out smile pulling at her lips.
She pulled him back down, fingers tangling in his hair as she kissed him again, losing herself in the moment. Time slipped away, and for a while, nothing else mattered.
Then, a soft melody pierced the quiet—the unmistakable sound of her phone ringing.
She broke the kiss abruptly, her heart pounding for a different reason now.
“Uh…that’s your phone,” Perseus said with a smirk.
Medusa scrambled upright, scanning the room. “I can’t let it go to voicemail.”
“Just text back later,” he said, trying to pull her back down onto the bed.
She shook her head firmly. “That’s not how it works. That ringtone is for my cousin. She doesn’t call unless it’s important. She knows I’m at work.”
Perseus raised his hands in surrender. “Okay. Okay.” He stood up, stretching, and gave her a pointed glance. “I’m going to shower—a cold shower.”
She bit her lip, reaching for her phone. But her fingers fumbled over the screen, and by the time she swiped to answer, the call had already dropped.
“Shit,” she hissed, staring at the missed call notification as panic crawled up her spine.
What could’ve happened?
She was panting now, but not from the amazing orgasm she’d just had. This was a different kind of breathlessness, tight and cold.
She tried calling back, but the screen flashed No Service, taunting her.
“Come on, come on…”
She typed out a quick text with trembling fingers, hit send, and could only stare at the phone, willing it to ring again.