God of Ecstasy (2 page)

“I’d love to,” he said. “You’re shivering. Let me warm it
up.” He moved to sit on the edge of the tub and leaned over, dipping a finger
into the water. He reached up and turned on the hot water tap.

“I kinda thought you’d just zap it with your finger or
something. A lightning bolt?”

“That would be my father, Zeus. Disappointed?” He was still
fiddling with the tap, turned away from her.

Jaime realized she wasn’t the only one who felt nervous. “Of
course not. Come on, wicked hot shirtless god appears out of nowhere offering
me sex? When my first plan was a night alone with my right hand and a romance
novel?”
James, you idiot, way to make yourself sound desirable.

“Most pleased to hear it.” He turned back to her and his
lips twitched in a smile. “Though I have no doubt you’re talented. Perhaps
you’ll show me what you like before it’s my turn to please you?”

He nodded for her to sit beside him on the edge of the tub.
Jaime wasn’t big on following instructions, especially while embarrassed.
Obstinately, she moved closer but remained standing in front of him. Her cheeks
were flushed—she didn’t normally have conversations with guys about her
self-love proclivities. Her bare calves were close enough to his legs that she
could feel the heat, even through the damp bellbottoms. He reached into the
bathwater again, testing the temperature. The tub was filling with bubbles and
his hand came back up covered in foam. He reached between her legs and trailed
wet fingers down her thigh. She gasped. “It’s hot enough. Perfect.”

“Excellent.” He rose to his feet and pulled her close
against his body, one hand settling against her lower back, one clutching her
ass, slipping against the thin silk of her robe. “Place your arms around my
neck.”

“Wait, what—?” Before she could get any more out, he lifted
her up in strong arms. Jaime hastily held on to his shoulders, digging her
nails into his wet, tan skin, and wrapped bare legs around his waist. He
stepped deftly, moving one leg into the tub, shifting her against his chest,
and then followed with the other, crouching down into the water. Jaime
remembered her first reaction to his body, thinking that gymnast comparison was
about perfect. Muscles rippled up his arms, the purple vines of his tattoos
shimmering in the faint light. As he lowered her into the bath, the hot water
left her gasping at the twin sensations of pain and pleasure. It ran up her
feet, calves, thighs, and he stopped there.

“How’s the temperature?” he asked. “Shall I keep going?”

Jaime nodded vigorously. “Please.” He laid them both down in
the tub and the hot water rushed against her cunt, sending tiny flutters of
pleasure-pain up her body. Her nearly waist-length blonde hair floated out
around them both. Her robe had fallen open and the folds between her legs were
completely exposed to the heat of the bath and rubbing up against his waist.
She settled onto his lap as he leaned back against the tub.
Damn, those
pants are scratchy. Would it be too forward to ask him to take them off?

James, you’re mostly naked in a bath with a stranger. I
think at this point you get to do whatever the fuck you want.

In that case, it was time to finally touch those tattoos.

She reached out tentatively at first, taking his left hand
in her own. She marveled again at how soft his hands were, uncalloused and
small. If they hadn’t been so firmly muscled she’d almost have called them
dainty. She wanted to feel them cup her breasts, moving across her skin, but
there was time for that. She trailed light fingers up his arm, exploring the
highlights and shadows in the ink. The purple was so deep an indigo she could
almost fall into it like the ocean, or a beguiling dream. It had a hypnotizing
effect on her. Images flashed into her mind, so quickly, one after another—the
wilderness outside the city, sunsets reaching on forever, shadows in dangerous
alleyways, the swirls of color in her favorite Van Gogh paintings.

The artwork was flawless, with no blurring between the
different shades.

“Who did these? I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“I’ve had them for years.” He didn’t answer her question.

“But they’re not faded at all. It’s like they’ve been
freshly inked—like when I first add oils to my palette, before they’ve even
touched the canvas. It’s almost as if they’re alive.”

“You’re an artist?” He asked it as a question, but like he
expected no other answer than “Yes.”

“Not anymore,” she said, sorry to disappoint him. “I gave
that up after university.”

“But you loved it? I can hear it in your voice.”

“Yes.”

“Then why? I mean—” His voice cut off as she leaned forward,
pressing her breasts to his chest and capturing his mouth with her own.
Dionysus wasn’t the only one eager to change the subject. She kissed him deeply
with nothing tentative about it, pressing her tongue between his lips. He
opened them, welcoming her, and she drank in the taste of him.

It didn’t surprise her that he tasted like wine, but the
vividness of it did. She felt heady, tipsy, wanting more. Jaime had never been
a wine connoisseur to the extent her friend Liv was. She enjoyed a good glass
or three here and there, but this was the first time she really understood the
intricacies of wine tasting. His mouth held a strong raspberry overtone, smooth
and sweet. When she kissed him lightly, it was all berry. When she sucked his
tongue into her mouth, new flavors caught her attention—a buried hint of
licorice-like aniseed, a touch of sweet caramel.

The taste of him filled her. Slowly she let her senses
expand beyond the immediacy of his mouth. He was moaning softly; her own moans
were louder, almost grunting in her search for more taste, more pleasure, more
everything. She’d have been embarrassed, except it seemed to turn him on—with
each sound, his fingers buried themselves deeper in her hair, pulling her head
to his. She could feel him erect under his pants, pressing between her legs.
She didn’t know where the heat of the bath ended and the hot wetness of her own
juices began. Everything was slick, her bare thighs sliding against his pants,
his chest moist against the silk of her robe and the bits of skin sneaking
through.

She pulled back from the kiss. “I want to touch you again.”

“Be. My guest. Please.” He was panting heavily between
words. Jaime loved it. The feel of his erection pressing into her, the
heaviness of his breathing—to know a man was this turned on by her was
absolutely intoxicating. It made her feel bold. Strong and alive.

She ran her hands through his hair, fingers catching on
tangles in the dark locks. He reached his own hands toward her chest but she
grabbed him at the wrists, holding him back. “It’s my turn. You’ll get yours
later.” Her heart thudded in her chest. G
o for it, James. All he can do is
say no. It won’t hurt you to hear a no. Will it?

“Of course,” Dionysus said, pulling his wrists from her
hands. “I won’t touch you.” He moved his hands to his sides, skimming them
across the top of the water. His warm sienna eyes bored into hers. Her breath
caught in her throat. Every time he looked at her, it was as if something hot
burned its way inside her, from her cunt down to the tips of her toes, and back
up again. She felt as if she was losing control, but had never been more in
control in her life.

She touched him everywhere she pleased in a flurry of
sensation. Jaime traced the vines on his arms again, following their twists
like navigating a maze made of skin. Her thumbs swirled in the hollows of his
collarbones. She ran the baby finger of her left hand lightly across his dark
eyelashes, taking pleasure in his sigh, then down the strong aquiline nose to
his wine-dark full lips, feeling powerful as he sighed when she touched them.
Her palms pressed against his chest and down the ripples of his abdomen, tracing
a trail of dark hair, reaching the top of his pants.

She slipped her thumbs beneath the waistband. The lightly
curling hair on his stomach continued beneath them, and she wanted to see it
all. With deft fingers she undid the button on his cords. When was the last
time she had been so aware of her hands? Not since painting, she supposed,
using her fingers to mix blues and purples on her palette when the brushes just
couldn’t give her the accuracy she needed. When she wanted to bury her hands in
color and paint her body with it.

Paint a body? Hmm. Store that thought for later, James.

Beneath the water, she grasped at the zipper of his pants,
fingers sliding in the wetness. She pulled it down, slowly, taking pleasure in
watching his eyes roll upward, then the lids close, lashes brushing his face.
She leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on the lids, one and two. She swore
she could hear his heartbeat rushing, faster than she’d have thought possible?

Did gods have heartbeats?

His flesh certainly seemed human. Maybe the rest of him was,
down to the internal organs. And the external ones.

She lowered his zipper the rest of the way, surprised to see
he had nothing on beneath the pants. His cock sprung free, piercing the surface
of the bathwater. It was tan like the rest of him, hooded with skin—she’d never
seen an uncircumcised penis before and was even a little scared of them, but it
looked utterly right on him. What would it feel like inside her? Would it fill
her completely in a way she hadn’t experienced before?

She traced the flesh of his cock gently with a finger and a
small, clear bead of liquid appeared at the tip. His breath had gotten louder,
faster, more insistent. She touched the droplet with her finger and raised it
to her mouth, her tongue darting out to taste it. It reminded her of a
chardonnay, perhaps, fresh and light with a hint of salty apricot. She could
see more dark curls around the base of him. The fact that they were still
wearing clothes, of a sort, seemed suddenly ridiculous.

“Lift your legs,” she said. “Let me get these off you.”

“As you command,” he replied, flexing muscles and lifting
her with him. She slid hands beneath them, skimming along his firm ass, pulling
the cords down his thighs, past his knees. He kicked them off into the water
and lowered them again against the cool fiberglass bottom of the tub.

Jaime let her own purple robe fall free of her shoulders and
down her arms, floating in the water behind her. With the dim light provided by
the waning candles, she didn’t feel shy, but bold. Her resolve was strengthened
as he watched her, tongue touching his top lip.

“May I touch you now?” he asked. She nodded. Though she
might’ve felt bold, she didn’t trust her voice. She lost herself to sensation
as his thumbs pressed against her breasts, running down her stomach, and his
mouth closed around her left nipple. He sucked it, hard, making her cry out
with desire. His cock pressed between her legs and she thought,
It would be
so easy to slip you inside me right now.
All in good time.

Suddenly he grasped her around the waist, spinning them both
so she was pressed under him against the bottom of the tub, her entire body
submerged up to her shoulders. Bubbles tickled at her neck and the scent of
plum filled her nostrils. She breathed it in. She spread her legs, waiting for
him to penetrate her.

“Not yet,” he said. Then he leaned forward and kissed her
again. She responded, holding him close, his cock sliding in the folds between
her legs, hot and hard, its length reaching to her ass, then pulling back
again. The friction made her crazy.

“Please,” she gasped. “Fuck me. I want you now.”

He kissed her mouth again, roughly, then up along her cheek,
reaching her earlobe, tonguing it, tasting the small hole left by her piercing,
though her lobe was naked at the moment. She wasn’t sure if he whispered the
words into her ear or if she heard them in her mind: “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes.”

He dipped his tongue into her ear, then traced it higher
along the folds, licking and blowing softly. Her stomach and the muscles of her
cunt clenched in response. “Jaime, there’s something I haven’t told you that
might affect your decision.”

“What is it?” she asked. Some distant part of her mind was
frightened. What could it be? Was he a dream after all? The rest of her didn’t
care.

“I’m not human.”

That was it? “I know.”

“I’m not sure you realize the implications.” He blew on her
ear again. Who knew the ear could be such an erotic part of the body? “As a
god, I don’t have the same limitations humans do. To be specific…I can breathe
underwater.”

With that, Jaime’s vision blurred red and her mind went some
very intriguing places. Her body was a miasma of sensation—his hands on her
ass, his mouth moving down her neck, nipping at her shoulders, licking from her
collarbone down, slowly down her breastbone, stopping to lap at a nipple.

When his head disappeared beneath the bubbles of the bath,
she opened her legs. His black curls drifted at the surface of the water,
tickling her stomach and the underside of her breasts.

And then his tongue found the folds of her cunt. She lost
all sense of time as he licked at her clit, the rough buds on his tongue
rubbing her to new states of pleasure. She lay back against the tub, the
coolness of it on her skin a stark contrast to the warmth of all the water
around her, and that water seemed frigid in comparison to the heat of his
mouth. The scruff on his cheeks and chin rubbed against her. He traced each
crease of her the way he had the pinna of her ear, exploring the most private
part of her body. She could feel his shoulders shaking between her thighs as if
this were as exciting to him as it was to her. She wrapped her legs tight
around him and buried her hands in his dark curls, pulling his head closer. He
flicked his tongue over her clit, again and again, and she thought of all the
ridiculous tricks she had urged Keith to try over the years—drawing pictures,
tracing the alphabet, nothing that had worked. What a difference to have a man,
a god who could sense exactly where she wanted him.