"So you hate me?" he asked. He nuzzled between her breasts, then kissed his way over to one, flicking at the nipple before sucking it into his mouth.
She twisted beneath him, unable to control herself. The feelings he brought out in her were far too strong.
"Yes," she muttered, trying to focus on anything but the feel of his mouth.
He raised his lips, and gave her a smile that could have melted a glacier.
"Hatred and love are very closely connected emotions, Aphrodite," he said mockingly. "I find myself enjoying your hatred very much indeed…"
With that, she closed her eyes, unable to look at him any longer. It was a mistake, forcing her to focus instead on the sensations he was building in her body. His lips moved to her other breast, and she could feel his hand brushing the inside of her knee. He slipped it between the fabric of her dress, and slowly worked its way up the soft skin of her inner thigh.
She squirmed, and sensation wound its way through her.[MT2] This was too much, it was moving so quickly. She usually preferred to spend leisurely hours with her lovers, getting to know them before abandoning herself to their touch. But Dionysus, while moving slowly, was attacking her body with a steady determination that made her feel weak and helpless.
Bastard.
She didn't realize she'd said the word aloud until he lifted his head and gave a mocking laugh. Her eyes snapped open again.
"Yes, I was a bastard," he said. "Zeus came to my mother and took her, much as I plan to take you. You'll scream just like she did before I'm done."
With that, he pressed his thumb against her clit, pushing it gently without moving it. She wiggled, wishing he would get on with it. She wanted to come, and knew instinctively that he was capable of bringing her to an incredible orgasm.
But to do it, he would have to press harder.
Instead, he simply left his thumb there, choosing to lave her breasts with his tongue instead. With every lick she grew more tense, more anxious. What the hell was he doing? Why wasn't he working to arouse her?
"Patience," he whispered. "Remember, if you get too excited you might beg me for release, and then you'll lose our little bet. You wouldn't want that, would you? Especially so early in the game…"
She bared her teeth at him, growling in hatred. He laughed again.
"That's what I like to see," he said. "A little enthusiasm…Now, where were we?"
She refused to answer, closing her eyes instead. It proved a mistake. He touched her lightly, caressing her over her gown. Her breasts were still exposed, but he ignored them. Instead, he brushed up and down her side, grazing the soft swells but never coming close to her nipples.
Then his hand was on her knee, rubbing softly. He trailed up and down her leg, allowing only the lightest of touches across the tops of her thighs. It was maddening. She could feel the tendrils of sensation growing, but he wasn't doing anything.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, he pulled her gown gently apart, and she felt a cool brush of air against her skin.
She waited for him to fall upon her. Of course, he had shown patience this long… But she knew he had to be aroused by the sight of her body. He had wanted her for centuries; she was love incarnate. No man or mortal had ever gazed upon her without wanting to take her. Dionysus was little more than a beast in so many ways. Against her will, she shivered. In the deepest corner of her mind, she admitted to herself that she might rather like being ravaged by a beast…
But his touch didn't come. She waited. Nothing. Finally, unable to control her curiosity, she opened her eyes. He watched her with wry amusement.
"You're lovely, Aphrodite," he drawled. "But hardly so beautiful I can't control myself."
She blushed, angry for allowing him to read her thoughts so easily. She should know better than to take anything for granted with him. He laughed again, then stood and walked around the bed. He went to a case against the wall, and slowly pulled open a drawer.
"What should I do to you?" he asked lightly. "I can't help but wonder if you've ever seen the darker side of love, Aphrodite."
"Lust," she replied tightly. "I believe you're referring to lust. Love doesn't have a dark side."
"I'd argue with that if I didn't have more important things to do right now,"
he said languidly. "But as it is, I'd rather spend my time playing with your body. It's so hard to decide what to do first…"
"Just get on with it," she said roughly. "These games are driving me crazy."
"Are you begging me?" he asked, his voice low and dark. "Because if you are, we've already finished with our little game, and I've won."
She turned away from him, closing her eyes again. No matter how she responded he would twist her words. She could hear him moving things around in the drawer. There was a heavy thud as he discarded something, then he moved across the room back toward the bed.
He climbed up onto it from the far side of her; she could feel it dipping under his weight. Then she felt the warmth of his body, and she turned her head back to him. As she opened her eyes, he dropped a black, silky cloth over them. She shrieked a protest as he blindfolded her, which he ignored completely. Then he spoke.
"If you don't shut up I may be forced to gag you," he said. "Of course, that would make it harder for you to beg me to make you come, but it might be worth it to stop this racket. You're a goddess. Show some dignity and act like it."
She quieted abruptly. Somehow he made her feel like an unruly child. His self-assurance was unnerving.
He rolled off the bed, and she heard more rustling. Was he removing his clothing? The mattress depressed beneath her again. He was back. Every inch of her body—splayed out before him—felt sensitized. When would he touch her, and where? He was showing far more subtlety than she'd ever realized he was capable of. It was disconcerting.
Then she felt it.
The slightest tickling sensation against her ankle. She kicked out at him, but it was gone. His laugh floated over her.
"Patience," he said in a dulcet voice.
She stilled. Everything she did was playing into his hands.
The tickling touch came again, this time along the outer side of her knee. It lingered there, then stroked over her leg to her inner thigh. Ever so slowly it moved up her leg, closer and closer to her waiting center. Despite herself, she shivered. The light touch played with her nerve endings, making her want to moan in protest. Or scream. She could feel the moisture building between her legs and knew he could see her arousal.
Disgusting.
Mesmerizing.
Then the touch was gone. A whimper escaped her mouth. It had been so close, her clit had been so ready for it, and now it was gone.
She didn't have long to wait, though.
The light touch—what was it, a feather?—had come back. This time in the valley between her breasts. It followed the curve along the bottom of her left breast, outlining the soft mound and defining its shape. Then it did the same to the right before moving down her stomach.
Both nipples were hard and tight. She could almost feel the feather against them, but it cruelly moved away They ached to be touched, still swollen from his suckling. The tingles raced from each tip toward her stomach, where the feather was dancing across the soft swell of her abdomen. She twisted slightly. It was too much. If he'd just touch her, ravage her body, she would be able to shut the sensations off.
Dionysus was far too devious for that, though. He was going to drive her mad.
Every touch made her quiver, and as he moved the feather lower toward her waiting clit, she moaned. Against her will, she raised her hips a little, offering her clit to his touch. When it arrived, she moaned again.