1. Elena #2
“Thank you,” I say, my lips curling up in a smile that fades almost immediately because he simply turns around and swaggers away.
Godforsaken asshole.
I snatch a fresh glass from a passing waiter’s tray and down the drink, letting the sharp burn slide down my throat. The music swells, heavier now, and when someone settles a hand on my hip, I don’t immediately pull away.
We sway to the rhythm of the beat until his fingers creep lower, fisting my ass through my dress. I stiffen and peel his hand away, shaking my head.
He laughs directly in my ear and does it again. The fucker’s obviously drunk. Before I can react, a shadow looms over us. I don’t see the stranger at first, but the scent of sandalwood hits me right before a firm hand clamps down on the man’s wrist mid-motion.
The grip is brutal and unyielding.
The man gasps, buckling slightly. “Hey…what the hell do you want, man?”
He gives no reply, just a slow tilt of a head. A silent command for him to walk away. When the drunk guy doesn’t respond immediately, the pressure increases.
The drunk man winces, yanks back, and scrambles away into the crowd without another word. I’m left standing there before the stranger who just saved me, pulse racing, stomach tight.
“Thank you,” I say quickly, words tumbling out. “Apparently I have one of those faces people think means yes when it really means no. God, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”
He doesn’t say a word. Instead, his hands rest on my hips, swaying me gently to the music.
I swallow. Heat curls low in my belly. “You don’t look like much of a dancer,” I continue, glancing at him, “but…you dance well.”
I can barely make out his expression, but the scorching heat that engulfs my body tells me what his eyes are assessing.
“I don’t look like a lot of things,” he rumbles after a moment of silence. And now the only thing I can focus on is how rough and buttery his voice sounds. Fuck, I just know he’ll talk me through sex.
Wait. No. No sex.
“Then what do you look like?” I ask, cutting off my presumptuous thoughts. It’s just a dance, nothing more.
He doesn’t respond; instead, he turns me around in a twirl. I’m out of breath by the time I’ve circled back into his arms, my heart pounding harder. There’s still no response, and for God knows why, there’s an urge to fill the silence.
“Do you always rescue strangers?”
His lips curve into a half smile. My skin flushes as his body crowds mine, his breath warm at my ear, pulling me closer.
“Only when they look like you.”
My legs shake, and I quickly latch onto his biceps to steady myself. Annora once read that you could tell the size of a man’s dick from his biceps. If that theory is true, then this man has a weapon forged by the gods dangling between his thighs right now.
…And I’d be damned if I didn’t want to feel it.
I can feel his gaze on me again, but this time it’s more intense, and I’m ashamed to say something about it—him—disarms me.
Maybe it’s the stillness… the control, or the fact that I haven’t had sex in a while. But I want this man to fuck me until all I see is stars and God.
He releases a low growl as if responding to my thoughts, then he starts to pull away. Something in me snaps, and before I can think, I climb on my tiptoes and crush my lips against his.
My dignity evaporates when he tightens his hold on me and takes control. His knuckles slide beneath my chin, tipping my face up just slightly as he shoves his tongue into my mouth.
Burning cigar smoke, heat, and arrogance flood my senses as my back arches. He groans, pressing against me, and I feel it. Fuck, Annora was right. That is some nuclear weapon in his pants.
I quickly slide my fingers into his soft strands, grinding against his bulge when he pulls back to hold my gaze.
“Let’s take this somewhere you can scream.”
Grabbing my hand, he leads me through the blur of swirling dresses and dark faces over to one of the mysterious corners blanketed by velvet.
This place is inky black, illuminated only by rays of light seeping in from the main auditorium.
When his face catches the light, I take in his warm brown eyes.
I don’t have time to think before he sets me against the wall and crushes his lips against mine. Not that I want to anyway.
His rough palms roam my torso possessively as if his hands are trying to memorize every curve of my body, and my clit throbs in response.
I tangle my fingers in his thick hair, desperately pressing my mouth harder against his.
Huffing a groan, he hefts my hips against his waist, and I respond by clutching my legs around him. I can feel the sheer size of his dick against the thin fabric of my dress even without seeing it, and just like that, my pulse doubles.
One arm wraps strongly around my waist while his other hand slips into the top of my dress, fisting possessively over my breast. Another deep grunt slips from him.
My hands tear at his buttons, palms sliding across his tattooed chest. A low growl escapes his lips when my finger brushes over his nipple.
Unlatching his lips from mine, he buries his head where his hand just visited, suckling greedily on my nipple. I’m already soaking wet.
His free hand grabs my ass, squeezing mercilessly. I can’t take it any longer; my hips begin an involuntary roll, rubbing my swollen clit against his rock-hard dick.
He tears his mouth away, sliding me off his hip. I’m about to protest in frustration when he turns me around, pulling my hips back against his front. His fingers trail down my thighs as he pushes the velvet fabric out of the way, finding my wet clit through my lace-thin panties.
His fingers push the lace aside, rubbing softly against my wetness. A cry springs past my lips as a hard shudder goes straight through me.
Damn!
I half expect a finger to slide inside me, but what presses against my opening is bigger, thicker. I gasp as his massive head rolls against my wet folds. My thighs tremble unashamedly, my own hands massaging my breasts as the pleasure intensifies.
He nudges me open, as his girthy cock slides into my dripping pussy. I hear his sharp grunt of pleasure as he stretches my walls completely full, my body trying to accommodate all of him.
His thrusts are slow at first, but he feverishly gathers momentum, pounding into me until I really do see stars and God. Just when I think I’m going over the edge, he pulls out, hoisting me back onto his hip.
My grinds are anything but slow or civilized the second I mount him. My hips tremble uncontrollably as I rock against him, desperate for release.
His breath bursts in short pants now, his head tilted back. I know he’s nearing his release, just as fast as I am. I muffle my cry by biting my lip as my climax hits, a heavy moan breaking from him a second later.
We both stand like that, wedged against the wall, his secure arm around my waist and my hands anchoring on his shoulders, panting heavily from the intensity of the climax.
My vision is hazy, my mind still reeling. The man—and his asset—are indeed nothing short of lethal.
“You can’t be a man…” I don’t know how those words slip past my lips, but he opens his eyes, brushing my sweat-soaked hair away from my face.
“Indeed. My name is Zeus,” he smirks.