Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92659 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92659 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
And there’s the way he put his hand around Orpheus’s throat. I saw how Charon flushed, just a little. That wasn’t all for me. We’re in this mess up to our eyeballs, but it’s strangely comforting that we’re in it together.
Orpheus finishes the kitchen and takes the time to clean out the bucket—not an easy feat on his knees with the high counters—before returning it back to the closet it came from.
Charon glances at him and opens his mouth, but I know what comes next. Every scene has a different flow, a unique cadence. But one thing that is consistent is that a…submissive…needs to be taken care of. A good job should be rewarded. A good dog should be praised. I snap my fingers. “Come.” I point to the spot right next to my chair. “Sit here.”
Orpheus doesn’t hesitate. The tile floors have to be killing his knees, but he doesn’t complain as he crawls to me and kneels carefully at my side. He bows his head and a bolt of something sizzling and complicated goes through me.
I hesitate, but he didn’t complain and he showed every evidence of doing exactly as I ordered to the best of his ability. It’s the most natural thing in the world to place my hand on his head and guide it to my thigh. “Good boy.”
His breath shudders out on my bare skin, and I fight down a shiver. It was satisfying to see him follow my command, but this…the heavy press of his head, his inhales and exhales ghosting over my thigh, his long hair soft beneath my fingers as I pet him.
Heat blossoms inside me. Desire. I won’t do anything about it. Not now, maybe not ever. As much as I didn’t want to see him go, I don’t know if I’ll survive letting him close enough to share my bed again. I don’t intend to keep him, and if we have sex…I’ll want to.
I look up to find Charon watching us. I don’t know what I expect, maybe jealousy or anger, despite his words last night.
Instead, he’s watching me with so much heat in his blue eyes, I have to fight not to shift in my seat. The desire surges higher, hotter. I lick my lips, and my voice comes out a little ragged when I finally manage to speak. “Charon?”
“I like you like this.” He braces his elbows on the table. “You’re steady on your feet.”
That’s exactly what it feels like. Even now, so many months later, there are plenty of times when I feel like the ground is moving beneath me. Not this morning, not since Orpheus knelt before me.
Not last night either, when I had my hand wrapped around Charon’s cock.
I can’t help it any longer. I press my thighs together, as if that will do anything to alleviate the ache that’s begun in my core. Orpheus goes tense, which is the moment I realize he relaxed completely while I stroked his head.
Charon sees. Of course he sees.
He leans forward, gaze intent. “Does he deserve the reward of your body?” The question has a formal feel to it, which makes me realize the scene isn’t over yet. Maybe it’s only just beginning.
“No.” The answer comes out too harshly, but it’s too soon. I’m not ready.
“You’re all achy and wet, aren’t you, baby? He might not have earned access, but that doesn’t mean you need to go without.” Nothing changes in Charon’s expression. “You want me to take care of it?” He doesn’t even try to make the question subtle. He’s so tense, I half expect him to leap over the table and grab me.
I want him to.
But…I glance down at Orpheus. Is it wrong that I want to fuck Charon when he’s right here? It must be. How can I go from offering him comfort to wanting to twist the knife as if a switch flipped inside me? I don’t know. I don’t understand it, but I’m feeling my way at this point.
I give his head one last stroke. “You…” I drag in a breath. “You may watch if you’d like. No touching. Don’t move.” I can’t believe I’m saying the words. Surely I’m not going to fuck my current…whatever Charon is to me right now…in front of my ex-boyfriend? Surely that’s breaking some kind of rules.
How many nights did I spend haunting Orpheus’s social media in the weeks following that night when everything changed? He certainly wasted no time being photographed with models and socialites and all manner of beautiful people. Surely he didn’t go home alone most of those nights.
I tormented myself with visions of him fucking them, even though I knew it was technically none of my business because we were over. I’m petty enough to want him to feel even a sliver of that now. I might have done that before hurt to myself, but he’s choosing to do it to himself now. A twisted kind of full circle.