Page 36 of Queen of Tempests and Sin

My jaw locked, furious at the audacity of him—like claiming me was a done deal.

I shot upright, clutching the sheet around me like armour. ‘You really have to stop saying I belong to you,’ I snapped. ‘I’m not a piece of real estate you can stake a flag in.’

He only paused long enough to glance over his shoulder, that infuriating half-smile ghosting his lips.

‘We’re even now,’ I stated firmly, every word clipped. ‘The subject is closed. Done.’

He didn’t respond—merely arched a brow, a maddening glint of amusement flickering across his face before he walked out.

I slid from the bed, wrapping one of the fluffy robes around myself, and before I tied the belt, my gaze snagged on my reflection in the mirror. Frowning, I stepped closer and widened the robe.

Two small punctures marked my upper thigh, surrounded by faint bruising

Fang marks? I rolled my eyes and huffed a laugh. Get a grip, woman… you’ve clearly been reading too many fantasy romances.

I climbed back in bed, a mess of confused feelings. I wanted to simultaneously punch Si in the kisser and rub against him like a starving alley cat. I’d met my match with this man.

He was a master at oral sex—I’d never experienced anything like it. But… he was a god—he’d fuck me, enjoy the chase, and toss me aside when he got bored. I couldn’t put myself through that.

But I—idiot that I am—really liked the arrogant bastard.

I don’t believe in happily ever afters. Maybe that makes me a pessimist—but it protects my heart and keeps me from breaking into pieces. My heart wasn’t just guarded; it was iced over. To love, at least.

Which meant… the god of the sea was officially off-limits.

I closed my eyes and surrendered to the dark.

CHAPTER 13

POSEIDON

Eating Cordelia’s sweet, wet pussy had juiced my brain like an orange; my cock was like a stone monument—unyielding—balls aching.

The moment her towel dropped, my pulse shifted into overdrive, throbbing to the frenzied beat of my heart. As my gaze roamed her naked form, I basked in the sight before me. Firm, lush breasts tipped with dusky rose nipples, that tasted sweet and sinful on my tongue. Her luminous ivory skin, silky and warm, and her bare pussy and delicate curves were a paradise I wanted to visit every day.

Her tattoo snared me the moment I saw it—a black dahlia entwined with blue, shadow fused with serenity, bound as she was bound to me. Green butterflies scattered through the petals, fragile, fleeting, yet defiant, like freedom refusing to die. I traced it with my mouth, slow and claiming, until her shiver told me the truth—this wasn’t just ink; it was her soul, laid bare in colour and bloom.

I stepped into the shower and closed my eyes as the cold water hit my shoulders. It did nothing to calm the blaze under my skin. Her naked body was mouthwatering—intoxicating. She was a goddess cloaked in human fragility. No other woman had ever affected me as she had.

I curled my fist around my painfully hard cock and groaned, taking a tortured breath as I pictured her climbing up my body, nude and glorious—her tits bouncing, eyes glazed with lust; her soft, ivory skin warm under my fingers; I’d almost exploded there and then. I stroked myself—slow, hard pulls from base to tip, bracing my other hand on the tiled wall. The scent of her arousal still lingered in my nose—her taste on my tongue—making me growl low in my throat.

The first taste of her wetness was incredible… like cherry blossom and fucking madness.

I continued fisting my hard length, with slow, firm strokes that made me shudder as I pictured Cordelia’s full lips wrapped around my cock again. My eyes closed with pain and pleasure as I pumped harder, breath ragged, and as the base of my spine gathered and jerked, I came with a low, guttural roar—her name on my tongue and obsession in my blood.

I’d tasted her jealousy over the flight attendant—burnt sugar, once sweet, now scorched and bitter, clinging to her like smoke. She wants me, every inch of her screams it, no matter what lies spill from her lips, and I would make her admit it, one way or another.

Cordelia is wild, dangerous, fucking loud… and perfect. I marked her tonight. She thinks we’re even… that this is over.

She’s wrong. This is just the beginning.

She’s mine… and I never let go.

* * *

Cordelia appeared a good eight hours later, just before breakfast. She wore tight, black shorts and a fitted sleeveless top, with her heavy-duty leather boots, thudding softly against the floor. A belt with a large silver buckle hugged her hips… and gods, did my mouth water at the sight.

After a curt ‘Good morning,’ she took the seat opposite me and opened her eBook, her attention fixed.