She groaned and let her head flop back in defeat as she felt his tongue run up the length of her slit and burrow its way into her already slick flesh. “Alright,” she breathed, “you win. I surrender.”
He chuckled again, but didn’t stop lashing her. Thelios was relentless, as always, and easily held her pliant body up to his mouth as if she were some sort of… of girl-shaped cup. She giggled at the image, then moaned again at the sensation. It crossed her mind that he was apparently determined to get to the very center of her using nothing but his mouth and tongue.
He lifted his face to look down at her. “Something funny?”
“Girl-shaped cup.” She murmured languidly, arcing her hips in response to his pulling away.
He grinned and lowered her hips to the couch before leaning over her. “Perhaps I should fill you with wine.”
She laughed- though with less certainly when he cast a suggestive glance at a pitcher of wine sitting on the table next to them.
She did grin, however, as she spotted a telling sheen on his chin. He looked very much like he was up to no good.
“You’ve got a little something…” she quipped pointing to his chin.
He reached up and wiped it off with another chuckle and moved to kiss her. Feeling playful she turned her face and whispered in his ear instead.
“Missed a spot.” She took his face in her hands and before he could stop her, or pull away, ran her tongue up from the bottom of his chin and languidly across his bottom lip. She bit it playfully, with another giggle of her own, and pulled away, expecting him to be returning her suggestive leer with one of his own.
He wasn’t.
Her own smile faltered… or rather it melted. Anything would have melted in the heat of the look he was giving her just then. As proof positive she felt her entire body from navel to knee turn into a pool of liquid heat. The same liquid heat swirling in those fiery, golden eyes.
A loud knock on the door jolted her, and tore her out of his eyes.
“Sir!”
Calliope blinked and struggled to sit up just as the door to the sitting room swung open. She was grateful she had managed to pull her skirt back down to her thighs, but her half prone position with one of Thelios’s knees between her legs was rather telling. Her face burned as Demitri’s head appeared in the doorway.
He nodded to her with a wince. “Sorry.” He turned to the master and looked appropriately contrite. “I know… I wouldn’t have bothered you if it wasn’t important.” As embarrassed as she was, she felt worse for Demitri. She would hate to be on the receiving end of the glare Thelios was giving him just then.
“Phineas again?” She asked unthinkingly.
Thelios gave her a sharp look, similar to the one Demitri had given her earlier. “That conversation I mentioned earlier.” She offered as explanation. “I overheard someone talking about it, and told Demitri. I was going to tell you but…” She gestured helplessly to his form still looming over her.
His gaze lingered a moment, then, with a sigh, he disentangled himself from her, and assisted in drawing her shirt lower down her legs as he withdrew.
“Hold that thought” he murmured as he rose and turned to walk away… then paused and leaned over her to impart kiss on her forehead before leaving. It was gentle… and oddly chaste, considering what they’d just been doing.
She heard other voices besides Demitri’s and was unspeakably grateful it had been he who’d opened the door. It was a little embarrassing to be caught in such a compromising position by him, but it would have been untenable to be seen like that by anyone else.
She adjusted herself in case someone did decide to enter and waited. It didn’t take long.
When he returned, however, there was a very different fire in his eyes. The playfulness which had at first mitigated his intensity had vanished. Now his face was nothing but hard lines and shadow, and his expression was punctuated by a dark scowl that would probably set even an experienced soldier’s knees to quaking. If memory served, it was very much like the one he’d worn just before he’d nearly ripped that man’s arm off the first day they’d arrived.
So much for telling him tonight, she thought with a sigh. And it had seemed like such a good time for it. His mood had been so perfect. Ah well.
She wasn’t surprised when instead of rejoining her, he poured himself wine, drank it, repeated the process, then turned and paced with his back to her. She watched him silently, sensing he needed a moment to consider whatever was troubling him.
When he finally made up his mind to quit his pacing and sit, she decided to speak. She watched as he poured another cup and settled into what she was coming to think of as ‘his’ chair.
“Trying to get drunk?” She quipped lightly, hoping humor might alleviate some of the dourness of his mood.
He gave her nothing but an ambiguous grunt at first, but she was heartened when he eventually added a derisively snort and spoke. “It would take a hell of a lot more than what’s in that jug to do it.”
“Then I shall call for more.”
He cast a side long glance in her direction as she rose from the couch and retied the cord holding her dress in place beneath her breasts, allowing the sides to hang partially open. Since he hadn’t reacted to her announcement other than to finally look in her direction, she made good on the offer. The girl wasn’t around but she caught the eye of the man from the other side of the garden. He hastened over when she waved.
“Would you be so kind as to bring more wine for my master?” He made a half bow in response and made to do so. Half way to the door she called after him as an after thought. “Make it a large carafe if you don’t mind…” He simply glanced back to acknowledge her voice and tipped his head. She eyed the door to Thelios’s rooms, simultaneously anxious to rejoin him and see if she might be of help, and hesitant to return until she felt more certain about how on earth she could do so.
Well, there was nothing for it, she decided. If history proved true he’d be tight lipped about what ever was bothering him, and just glower. So all she could do was wait and see. She found it difficult to repress her smile when she saw him emptying the carafe into his cup with a jerk, as if trying to shake every blessed drop from it.
“You shouldn’t drink that,” she chided gently, “you’ll just get dregs… wait a moment for a fresh pitcher.” He gave her a rueful look and tossed it back anyway. She winced, but said nothing. His expression was still grim. Calliope watched and waited, not knowing what else to do. He stared back, then after a silent eternity straightened. “Demitri told me what you were going to tell me.”