Page 70 of Crown of Serpents

“Perseus,” she moaned his name as her core tightened, pressure building within her. Medusa gripped his hair; she needed more.

He understood and slid one finger inside her. She cried out his name again, her eyes rolling back in her head. She needed release, but he would not give it to her yet.

“Please,” she whimpered.

“Say my name again, and I will give you what you want. I want you to scream my name when you come.”

“Please, Perseus.”

He slid in another finger, cherishing her clitoris … until she went over the edge. Medusa was falling through space and time, his mussed hair her only tether to reality. She cried out his name over and over again as electricity shot through her veins and her legs shook.

“Good girl.”

When she could breathe normally again, he hoisted himself up until his length pressed against her entrance. Her breath hitched, but he stroked her hair, whispering, “Only if you want me to.”

She did. His tongue and fingers had not been enough to satiate her hunger. She wanted … she needed to feelhiminside of her. So, Medusa wrapped her legs around him, nudging him close, “I do.”

Perseus kissed her fervently and slowly slid inside of her, giving her time to adjust to his considerable length.

He groaned and slowly began to move. “You feel so fucking good.”

She raised her legs back to take him deeper. Her nails dug into his skin as he slid in and out of her.

Medusa had always thought that sex was necessarily painful for the woman. That was how she remembered it. Yet, no previous sensation could compare to the feeling of Perseus inside of her. She moaned his name again as he caressed her neck and picked up the pace. In and out.

Just as Medusa started to feel another electric current buzzing in her blood, Perseus flipped her on her belly. “Lift your hips for me,” he whispered in her ear and sent a shudder down her spine. “I want to touch you while I fuck you.”

He gently slid his fingers inside her mouth for her to lick them and began massaging her core while thrusting inside her once more. She had been wrong. There was a feeling more exhilarating than feeling his cock inside of her. She groaned as he sunk deep inside her, filling up every inch of her.

Then, he pinned her wrists to the bed with his broad hand, and the world shifted. Suddenly, she was not pressed against the cotton mat in a warm-lit cabin but against the cold marble floor of Athena’s temple. Her breath grew ragged, icy water filling her lungs.

No. No. No. Not again.

She whimpered at the unforgiving pace at which Poseidon — not Perseus — thrust inside of her, claiming her against her will. Tears started streaming down her face as she lost control.

Her body was pinned beneath the god of the sea once again, as hands twice her size held her down. She could not breathe, swallowing the dark water of the panic that crashed in waves over her head.

There was nothing she could do. Even though her parents hadbeen titans, she was born into a weak mortal body. He was a god. Medusa knew that her writhing and screaming were futile, as Poseidon took her in the sacred sanctuary of her goddess. She screamed regardless as he invaded her again and again. She wailed at the piercing pain of her maidenhead ripping as he thrust inside her without mercy. There was nothing she could do except pray that it would be over soon.

Bile rose in Medusa’s throat. She could not breathe. She could not move. She could not —

Somebody shook her shoulders, calling her name, “Medusa. Medusa. Medusa.”

Medusa curled up into a ball, making herself as small as she could — just like she had after he had taken her. She had lain there for hours, sobbing, awaiting the wrath of her goddess. Medusa knew what her bleeding had meant. She was unworthy of being Athena’s priestess once Poseidon had defiled her.

“You are safe, Medusa. Nobody is going to hurt you.”

Another sob escaped her throat. Did he not know that she was never safe? She had run to Athena’s temple to escape Poseidon’s clutches, and he had found her regardless. The walls of the temple had not been able to protect her, and he had defiled her beneath her goddess’s altar. Arms around her, she rocked back and forth, trying to banish the memory of the god of the sea invading her.

Gingerly, Perseus untied her blindfold, and Medusa squinted as the flickering light next to the straw cot blinded her.

He stroked her hair like he had during their night at the tavern, repeating the same words, “You’re safe. You’re safe.”

Slowly, Medusa returned to reality as she looked around the cabin. There was no marble floor beneath her, no pillars surrounding her, no statue of Athena looming over her, and next to her was Perseus — not Poseidon.

When Medusa finally leaned into his touch, Perseus wiped her tears and curled up beside her, pulling her into his embrace.

“I am so sorry, Medusa. I … I didn’t … I never would have..”

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