"Penelope," he breathed, his voice wrecked, ruined. "Tell me what you want."
She smiled. Oh, but she was enjoying this.
"I want you toachefor me," she whispered, her fingers drifting lower, tracing the strong line of his throat, down the center of his chest, feeling the heavy rise and fall of his breath. "I want you to suffer for me, as I suffered for you."
His head tipped back, a strangled sound escaping his throat.
"Years, Odysseus," she continued, her voice low and dangerous, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth but pulling away before he could turn into it. "Years I spent in an empty bed. Years I spent waiting, praying -" Her nails dug into his chest just enough to make him shudder. "And now you will wait for me."
His breath hitched. He tried to move, to grab at her, but she tut-tutted, pressing a firm hand to his chest, keeping him where she wanted him.
"You are not in control here," she reminded him, watching his throat bob as he swallowed thickly.
And then she leaned in, her lips brushing the shell of his ear.
"Be a good king, husband," she murmured, gently rolling her hips against him. "And beg."
His hands fisted at his sides, his whole body trembling, burning with the effort to stay still, to obey. His breath was ragged, his forehead pressed against her shoulder, his body bowed like a man on the verge of ruin.
"Please," he rasped. "Please, Penelope."
"Please what?" She cupped the back of his neck, dragging her nails lightly through his hair.
His breath shuddered out of him. "Anything." His voice was hoarse, desperate. "Penelope, please. I burn for you. I havealwaysburned for you."
A shiver ran through her at the sheer devotion in his voice, at the way he surrendered himself so completely.
She had never seen him like this. She had never imagined he could be like this.
A sharp breath tore from Penelope’s lips. Her fingers trembled where they rested against his skin, and she knew that if she waited another moment, if she dragged this out any longer, she would be the one left shaking, undone, at his mercy.
She couldn’t have that. Not now.
So she gave in.
A slow, satisfied smile curled her lips as she tangled her fingers in his hair and dragged his mouth to hers.
Odysseus broke.
A guttural sound tore from his throat as he crushed her against him, hands finally,finallygrasping at her, palms splaying wide over her back, pulling her into him like he was starving for her.
And he was.
He rolled them over, the firm lines of his body pressing against her. Penelope gasped against his mouth, her control snapping like a bowstring pulled too tight. Her fingers curled in his tunic, yanking the fabric off of his frame completely, herbody pressing flush against his as if she could melt into him completely.
She might have pushed him to his breaking point, but she was breaking, too.
She felt him smirk against her lips, smirk, the audacity of this man, and she bit his bottom lip in punishment, making him groan, making his hands tighten at her waist.
“Cruel woman,” he rasped, his forehead falling against hers, their breaths mingling in the heat between them.
“Yes,” she agreed, her lips brushing against his as she spoke, her fingers tracing over the rapid beat of his heart. “But I amyourcruel woman.”
His breath hitched. His hands slid up her side, reverent, almost shaky. His forehead pressed harder against hers, like he couldn’t bear even the slightest distance.
“Say it again,” he whispered, voice raw.
Penelope swallowed, her own chest heaving, the force of it knocking against her ribs.
