Sinful Hearts: Chapter 21

You’d think by now, I’d have become immune to Hades’…

. His ability to rattle me by saying things that should make me livid and disgusted, instead of warm and wet.

Immune, or at least slightly numb. Desensitized. But apparently, I’m not. Case in point: the way I’ve been staring at my phone screen for the last five solid minutes, re-reading over and over the last text he sent me.

I’ve literally re-read it close to a hundred times. And it has lost its edge yet.

I still tingle every time I read it. Still feel my pulse quicken, still squeeze my thighs together at my desk.

Still squirmy, achy, and needy. I mean, what the fuck, self?

I’ve been like this since yesterday, when he…

.

Pinned me to my office door, yanked my panties down, and tongued my clit. Then my ass, until I came like a wrecking ball. And as much as I still want to feel—I don’t know, embarrassed?—for something so insanely dirty feeling so good, I can’t.

All I feel when I think about it is the need for more, like an addiction.

And that’s Hades in a nutshell: something dirty that feels so good.

My phone buzzes on the desk in front of me.

My face throbs with heat. I mean, the of the man.

I bite my lip, grinning as my thumbs tap over the screen.

I mean, sweet . This is what I’m dealing with. How do you even respond to that? And why the does it turn me on so much when he talks to me like this?

I simmer, squirming in my chair as heat pools between my thighs.

I chew on my lip as I make an addition to my last text.

I roll my eyes. I can almost his possessive glare through the phone.

There’s no response for a full minute. I grin.

I roll my eyes again.

Oh. My. God. Possessive much?

Heat explodes in my core. My pulse begins to beat even faster, and I start to shiver. Goddammit, there’s something insanely sexy about this ridiculously over-the-top caveman routine, even though there’s no way I would have ever found this even a mild turn-on in anyone else.

But…that’s Hades.

Something new. And wild. And insane.

My pulse pounds in my ears. My breath becomes shaky.

There’s no “lol” at the end of that statement. No funny gif. No cute emoji.

It’s not a joke. He’s legitimately that insane, and dangerous, and more than capable of doing that. And apparently, I’m more than capable of getting wetter than rain when he says shit like that.

I stare at the screen, eyes bugging out of my face, my mouth hanging open.

And my panties a fucking .

Maybe there really is something off with Hades. Maybe he’s even more of a psycho—like, legitimately so—than I’ve ever guessed. But if he is, then there’s a strong chance, given how much this whole act is turning me on, that I am, too.

I blush fiercely.

. My entire body clenches and squirms. My skin feels electric under my clothes. What the hell has this man done to me?

I flush deeply.

Fuck. I walked right into that one.

I stare at the screen with wide, scandalized, but oh-so-

eyes.

Holy.

.

Three dots appear and then disappear. And then suddenly, a picture just pops right up on my screen that sucks the air from my lungs and sends my jaw crashing to the fucking floor.

His cock.

Hades’

erect, VERY large, very thick, very bulging-with-a-vein-running-down-the-length-of-it .

…and the icing on the cake is my stolen thong wrapped around the base of it.

Sweet. Tap-dancing. Christ.

You’re supposed to be angry at unsolicited dick pics. And normally, I damn well would be.

…Unless, apparently, that unsolicited dick pic comes from Hades Drakos. Because when his cock fills my screen, all I want to do is freaking lick it. All over.

I am absolutely, one hundred percent, going insane.

I shiver.

Oh my God, he’s an animal. He just took a picture of his massive dick with my panties wrapped around it in midtown traffic. Like, who does that?

And also…

My eyes slide over the image, heat spreading through every single nook and cranny of my body. My nipples feeling electrified against my bra. My clit aching to be touched under my slick panties.

Hades has a freaking dick. Like, that thing is the Brad Pitt or Benicio del Toro of dicks. It’s ridiculous.

It’s also . Like the sort of huge where I’m actually confused how it fit inside my vagina. And built for delivering babies, for fuck’s sake.

I cringe. I really did just say “penis”, didn’t I?

I giggle, loudly.

I blush.

I grin.

I scroll up to the picture in the middle of our conversation, screenshot it, and then text him the screenshot.

I roll my eyes, grinning impishly.

Heat explodes across my face.

I’ve never done that. I mean, I’ve never sent someone a picture like that.

But apparently, this man is able to unlock each and every first of mine he wants. Because before I know what I’m doing, before I can stop myself, I’m lowering my phone under the desk and slowly spreading my legs.

.

I wince. The first shot is…not sexy. Blurred, badly lit, and basically of my thigh. Yeah, no thanks. I try a few more, but it’s the same result. Finally, realizing it’s the lack of light under the desk, and after finding out the hard way that flash photography of your crotch is about the least sexy thing ever, I get up and move to the small sitting area by my windows.

I try a few more angles in there, before I finally just say screw it and drop my panties. Blushing, I lie back on the sofa, legs spread and my skirt bunched up as I bring the camera lens to my privates.

“Smile…” I murmur, blushing as I—oh my God—snap a couple of pictures of my pussy.

The first few are meh. But then…there it is. The money shot, where you can actually see the glistening heat of my arousal and the pink flush on my lips.

I don’t second guess it. Don’t overthink it. I just hit send, and then immediately turn my phone face down as my face heats.

?

I swallow. It’s fine. It’s not like my face is in it. And as insane as he is, I feel that Hades is the last person who’d ever share something like that, given his lunatic possessive streak.

I bite my lip, grinning.

again, he’s crazy enough to fucking do it, too.

I open my photo app and delete all the pictures I just took of my pussy, because , I do not need those popping up in a meeting or something.

Then, I pluck my panties off the couch. I’m about to slip them back on, because honestly, why not? But then, heat surging into my face, I walk back over to my desk and slip them deep into my bag instead.

When I sit, I feel a shiver of desire tingle up from between my legs all the way up to my cheeks.

My phone dings once more.

It’s like he’s got a remote control to my libido. To my brain. And to my pussy. Because instantly, it throbs with a need so desperate it actually makes my head spin.

I’m about to ask what that even means when another picture comes through.

A picture so outrageously lurid, so ridiculously dirty, that I almost drop my phone.

And yet a picture so fucking hot, my thighs squeeze together involuntarily as my core coils and writhes with need.

A picture of Hades’ swollen cock, my panties still wrapped around the thick base, with sticky, glistening white cum dripping down every magnificent inch of him and pooling in my thong.

It’s quite possibly the sexiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.

I’ve barely closed the bathroom door behind me before I’m leaning against the sink with one hand under my skirt and the other muffling my strangled cries.