Chapter 15: Table of Temptation
The thick oak table groaned beneath Liliana’s weight as Apollo lifted her, scattering forgotten books and sending the wine goblet spinning, dark droplets arcing onto the worn leather spines. The flickering candlelight danced wildly, casting long, shifting shadows across Apollo’s face – all sharp angles and predatory focus. The heat radiating from the nearby fireplace seemed to intensify, a physical pressure against her skin, competing fiercely with the scorching trail his hands left as they slid up her bare thighs, pushing the thick fabric of her trousers higher.
"Apollo—" The name was a gasp, torn from her throat, half-protest, half-plea. Her uninjured hand fluttered uselessly against his shoulder, the other, still braced, lay trapped beneath her, a dull counterpoint to the wildfire igniting along her nerves.
He didn’t pause. His gaze, dark as the storm-lashed sky outside the arched window, held hers captive. He knelt before her, the polished marble floor cool beneath his knees, his broad shoulders filling the space between her legs. The intimacy was staggering, terrifying. He was the Crown Prince, kneeling. For her.
"Let me," he murmured, his voice a low, resonant vibration that bypassed her ears and thrummed directly in her chest. His lips brushed the sensitive skin of her inner knee, a feather-light touch that sent jolts of pure sensation radiating upwards. His breath was hot, hotter than the fire, scorching against her chilled skin. "Let me worship you, Liliana."
The word ‘worship’ shattered her remaining composure. It wasn’t courtly flattery; it was raw, reverent intensity. Her head fell back against the cold stone wall behind the table with a soft thud, her eyes squeezing shut. The howl of the blizzard, the groan of ancient timbers – all were swallowed by the deafening roar of her own blood pounding in her ears. She felt dizzy, unmoored, swept away on a tide of sensation unlike anything she’d ever known. Not playful flirtation, not the thrill of a fight. This was surrender. Swooning wasn't a strong enough word; it felt like dissolution.
His hands continued their deliberate ascent, calloused palms rasping gently against the smooth skin of her thighs, pushing the fabric higher still. His thumbs traced slow, maddening circles just below the crease where thigh met hip, each touch a brand. He pressed another kiss, firmer this time, higher on her inner thigh. A whimper escaped her, high and thin.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice rough velvet.
She forced her eyes open. He was watching her, his expression fierce, almost feral, yet beneath it burned that unnerving reverence. The flickering candlelight caught the gold of his armbands and chokers, turning them molten. He held her gaze as his lips descended again, higher still. His tongue traced a searing path along the delicate skin, tasting salt and warmth. Liliana cried out, her hips arching off the table of their own accord, seeking the pressure, the heat of his mouth.
He groaned against her skin, the sound vibrating through her core. One hand slid around to cradle her hip, holding her steady, while the other moved higher, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her trousers, teasing the sensitive skin of her lower belly. His mouth followed, relentless, worshipping with lips and tongue and teeth that grazed just enough to make her gasp. He explored the softness of her inner thigh, the taut muscle yielding beneath his ministrations, mapping every tremor, every hitch in her breath as if committing it to memory.
The world narrowed to this: the scrape of wool against her back, the cold stone at her neck, the overwhelming heat of him between her thighs, the dizzying scent of spiced wine, old parchment, and something uniquely Apollo – clean linen and snow and power. Her fingers tangled desperately in his long, golden hair, not pushing him away, but anchoring herself against the onslaught of pleasure that threatened to unravel her completely. She was trembling, her breaths shallow gasps that did little to fill her lungs.
"Gods, Apollo..." she breathed, the words barely audible, thick with need.
He lifted his head slightly, his lips glistening, his eyes blazing. "Tell me," he rasped, his own breathing ragged. His thumb brushed over the heated, damp core of her, hidden still by fabric, a deliberate, intimate pressure that made her jerk violently. "Tell me what you want."
She couldn't speak. Words were beyond her. All she could do was writhe against his hand, against the table, her body screaming its answer. Her uninjured leg hooked over his shoulder, pulling him closer, deeper into the space he’d claimed. A silent, desperate plea.
A predatory smile touched his lips, sharp and triumphant. He understood. His head dipped again, his mouth finding her through the thin barrier of her undergarments. The heat, the wetness, the sheer intensity of sensation as he pressed his lips firmly against her, licking, sucking through the fabric – it was blinding. Liliana arched, a strangled cry tearing from her throat, her fingers tightening painfully in his hair. Stars exploded behind her eyelids. She was falling, dissolving, consumed by a pleasure so acute it bordered on pain.
He worked her relentlessly, his mouth a brand, his tongue a wicked instrument of torment and ecstasy. The rough knit of her sweater scraped against the table edge as she twisted, seeking friction, seeking release. The pressure built, coiling tighter and tighter in her belly, a storm threatening to break. She was whimpering now, constant, broken sounds she didn’t recognize as her own. Her uninjured hand scrabbled against the smooth oak, finding no purchase.
"Please..." It was a sob, ripped from the depths of her need.
He growled, the vibration against her core sending another shockwave through her. His fingers hooked into the waistband of her trousers and undergarments, tugging them down just enough, exposing her fully to the heat of the firelight and the devastating heat of his mouth. The sudden, direct contact – skin to skin – was electric. Liliana screamed, her body bowing off the table.
Apollo didn't hesitate. He claimed her with his mouth, his tongue delving deep, tasting her essence. Liliana shattered. The coil snapped, unleashing a torrent of pure, white-hot pleasure that ripped through her with violent intensity. Wave after wave crashed over her, stealing her breath, her sight, her very sense of self. She convulsed, her cries muffled against her own arm, her uninjured leg clamping tight around Apollo’s head as he drank her in, relentless, prolonging the shattering climax until she was boneless, trembling, gasping for air like a landed fish.
He gentled slowly, pressing soft, lingering kisses against her oversensitized flesh, his breath hot and uneven against her trembling thighs. He rested his forehead against her inner thigh for a moment, his own shoulders rising and falling with deep breaths. The silence that followed was profound, broken only by the crackle of the fire and their ragged breathing. The storm outside seemed distant, irrelevant.
Slowly, Apollo lifted his head. His lips were swollen, his eyes dark pools of satisfied intensity, his hair mussed where her fingers had gripped. He looked utterly undone, yet more powerfully regal than ever. He met her dazed, pink eyes, a slow, devastatingly possessive smile spreading across his face. He reached up, his thumb brushing away a tear she hadn't realized had escaped, trailing down her flushed cheek.
"Beautiful," he murmured, the single word imbued with awe and raw possession. He leaned forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her trembling lips, tasting herself on his tongue. "Utterly devastating."
Apollo’s kiss lingered, a soft counterpoint to the wildfire still smoldering beneath Liliana’s skin. His thumb brushed her flushed cheek again, catching another stray tear. "Devastating," he breathed against her lips, the word tasting faintly of salt and her own essence.
She trembled, boneless against the cold oak, the rough wool of her sweater scraping her back. Her pink eyes, wide and dazed, met his intense blue gaze. "Apollo..." Her voice was a ragged whisper, stripped bare.
His predatory smile returned, sharp and possessive. He straightened, his golden hair catching the firelight as he looked down at her sprawled form. His gaze traced the lines of her uniform – the white halter dress askew, the pink tulle beneath rumpled, her thigh-high boots still clinging. "Too much," he murmured, his voice thick. "Still too much between us."
His hands moved with startling efficiency. Fingers hooked into the thick knit of her borrowed wool sweater, pulling it swiftly over her head. The cool air hit her bare skin, pebbling her flesh, contrasting violently with the heat radiating from him and the fireplace. He discarded the sweater onto the scattered books without a glance.
Liliana instinctively curled inwards, her uninjured arm crossing over her breasts. "Cold," she breathed, the word shaky.
"Only for a moment," Apollo promised, his voice a low rumble. His hands slid down her sides, finding the waistband of her practical trousers. He tugged them down her hips, the fabric catching momentarily on her boots before he freed them completely, leaving her clad only in her thin uniform dress, boots, gloves, and damp undergarments. The cool marble floor beneath the table seemed to leach warmth upwards.
He knelt again, his broad shoulders filling the space between her legs. His hands slid beneath the hem of her short dress, pushing the white fabric and pink tulle upwards, bunching it around her waist. His calloused palms settled heavily on her bare hips, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin just below her navel. His gaze, dark and hungry, traveled upwards over her exposed stomach, the curve of her ribs, finally settling on the swell of her breasts straining against the thin halter top.
"Beautiful," he repeated, the word rougher now. One hand slid upwards, palming her breast through the fabric, his thumb finding the hard peak of her nipple beneath. Liliana gasped, arching into the touch despite herself. The sensation was electric, reigniting the embers low in her belly.
He leaned forward, his breath hot against the damp fabric covering her nipple. His lips closed over the peak, sucking firmly through the thin material. Liliana cried out, her fingers flying back into his hair. "Oh!"
He chuckled, the vibration against her breast sending fresh shocks through her. "Louder," he commanded softly, releasing the fabric with a wet sound. His fingers deftly found the clasp at the back of her halter neck. A flick, and the dress loosened. He peeled the top down, freeing her breasts completely to the warm, flickering light.
His gaze raked over her bare skin, pure masculine appreciation hardening his features. His hands returned, warm and possessive, cupping each breast, lifting their weight. His thumbs brushed over her stiff, pink nipples. "Perfect," he breathed.
He lowered his head again, his mouth closing hotly over one nipple. He sucked deeply, his tongue swirling around the peak, teeth grazing it lightly. Liliana moaned, a low, involuntary sound that echoed softly in the alcove. He switched to the other breast, lavishing it with the same intense attention, sucking, nipping gently, his tongue a relentless torment.
She writhed, her head thrashing against the stone wall. "Ah... Apollo... gods..." Her moans were louder now, less contained, fueled by the dual assault on her senses. She tried to bite her lip, to stifle the sounds, conscious of the vast lodge beyond the alcove curtain.
He lifted his head, his lips glistening. He watched her struggle for silence, her face flushed, eyes squeezed shut. A low chuckle escaped him. "So cute," he murmured, his thumb tracing her swollen lower lip. "Trying so hard to be quiet." His eyes darkened further. "Don't. I want to hear you. Every sound."
His hand slid down her trembling stomach, over the curve of her hip, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her damp panties. He hooked them, pulling them down her legs in one smooth motion, discarding them onto the growing pile of clothes. She was utterly exposed now, bare except for her boots and fingerless gloves, the dress bunched uselessly around her waist.
He knelt fully between her thighs again. One hand returned to her breast, fingers pinching her nipple firmly, rolling it. Liliana gasped sharply. Simultaneously, his other hand slid lower, fingers tracing through her slick heat, finding her entrance. He pressed one finger inside, slowly, deliberately.
The intrusion, combined with the sharp pinch on her nipple, drew a sharp, high cry from her lips. "Ahh!"
Apollo leaned forward, his mouth capturing the nipple he was pinching between his teeth. He bit down gently, tugging, while his finger curled inside her, finding a spot that made her hips jerk violently off the table. Her cry dissolved into a ragged moan, loud and unrestrained this time. "Yes! Oh gods, yes!"
He released her nipple, his breath hot against her damp skin. "That's it," he encouraged, his voice thick with satisfaction. He added a second finger, stretching her, curling them relentlessly against that spot. Liliana cried out again, her uninjured leg hooking over his shoulder, pulling him closer, her body demanding more.
He withdrew his fingers slowly, leaving her clenching around emptiness. She whimpered, a sound of pure loss. Apollo stood, his movements fluid and predatory. His eyes never left hers as his hands went to the intricate knot holding his draped trousers. He loosened it swiftly, the fine fabric pooling around his ankles, revealing powerful legs and the hard, thick length of his erection, jutting proudly from the thatch of golden hair at his groin.
Liliana's breath hitched. He was magnificent, intimidatingly large. The firelight gleamed on the sweat-slicked planes of his chest and shoulders, catching the gold bands on his arms and throat. He stepped closer, his gaze locked on hers, burning with primal intent.
He grasped himself, his fist sliding slowly up the thick shaft. He pressed the broad, slick head against her entrance, the heat and pressure making her gasp. Her pink eyes widened, locked on his face. He leaned forward, bracing one hand on the table beside her hip, the other guiding himself.
He pushed forward slowly, inexorably. The initial stretch was intense, overwhelming. Liliana moaned, a deep, guttural sound torn from her chest as her body yielded, stretching to accommodate him. He pushed deeper, the thick length filling her relentlessly. She trembled violently, her fingers scrabbling against the smooth oak. "So... full..." she gasped out, her voice strained.
He paused for only a heartbeat, letting her adjust, his jaw clenched, his own breath ragged. Then he pushed deeper still, sinking further into her tight heat. Liliana's head fell back, a choked sob escaping her. Gods, he was still going! How much more could he possibly have?
He pushed deeper again, each inch a revelation of impossible fullness, stretching her beyond anything she'd imagined. Her inner muscles fluttered wildly around the invading thickness. Finally, with one last, deep thrust, his hips met hers, flush against her body. He was fully sheathed, buried to the hilt.
A final, shuddering moan ripped through Liliana, long and loud, echoing off the stone walls as a profound tremor ran the length of her body. She felt impossibly full, stretched, claimed. Apollo groaned above her, a deep, resonant sound of pure satisfaction, his forehead resting against hers, his breath mingling with hers, hot and ragged.
Apollo groaned above her, a deep, resonant sound of pure satisfaction, his forehead resting against hers, his breath mingling with hers, hot and ragged. He held himself utterly still, buried deep within her trembling heat. Every nerve ending in Liliana’s body screamed at the impossible, overwhelming fullness, the intimate invasion both startling and profoundly right.
Her inner muscles clenched violently around him in an instinctive, rhythmic spasm, a jolt of pure sensation that ripped another choked gasp from her lips. He groaned again, a low, primal rumble that vibrated through her very core. “Gods, Liliana…”
Then he moved. With agonizing slowness, he withdrew halfway, the drag of his thick length sending sparks skittering down her spine. She whimpered, the sudden emptiness shocking, aching. Before the protest fully formed, he rolled his hips forward, driving back into her with deliberate, controlled power, seating himself fully once more. The impact stole her breath.
He didn’t pause. His hips began a relentless rhythm, withdrawing halfway, then surging forward again, each powerful thrust rocking her body against the solid oak table. The hard edge dug into her lower back, a sharp counterpoint to the deep, driving pleasure blooming within. The sway of his hips kept a maddening, unyielding pace that didn’t falter, a steady piston driving her higher.
His crystal blue eyes, dark with arousal, were locked onto her face. He watched every flicker of emotion, every tremor, every gasp. Liliana felt utterly exposed, drowning in the ecstasy he was meticulously drawing from her, her pink eyes wide, lips parted in silent cries. She was helpless against the tide, her uninjured hand scrabbling weakly against the polished wood.
“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice rough velvet, thick with awe and something darker. A bead of sweat traced a path down his temple, catching the firelight. He thrust deeper on the next roll, adjusting his angle subtly, hitting a spot that made her arch off the table with a sharp cry. “You like it deep, don’t you?” His words were a low murmur, an observation tinged with possessive satisfaction, not a question.
Her answer was another shuddering moan, her head thrashing back against the stone wall. She couldn’t deny it; the core of her being craved that profound pressure, that claiming stroke. Her body tightened around him again, trying to pull him deeper still. He chuckled, a dark, rich sound that echoed her desperate need.
“Yeah,” he breathed, confirming his own observation. His hands slid beneath her, fingers digging possessively into the flesh of her hips. He lifted them slightly, tilting her pelvis. The new angle drove him impossibly deeper, stretching her further, hitting that spot with devastating accuracy on every powerful inward thrust. Liliana cried out, a high, broken sound that shattered the quiet intimacy of the alcove.
Liliana cried out, a high, broken sound that shattered the quiet intimacy of the alcove. Apollo’s new angle was devastating, each powerful thrust striking that deep, hidden place with unerring precision. Her vision blurred, the candlelight fracturing into shards of gold against the dark stone walls.
"Fuck, Apollo!" Her voice was raw, stripped of pretense, echoing the raw need tearing through her. Her fingers clawed grooves into the polished oak beneath her, seeking any anchor against the tidal wave of sensation. The cool marble wall was a harsh counterpoint to the inferno blooming in her core.
He didn’t answer with words. A low growl vibrated deep in his chest, primal and possessive. His rhythm shifted, his powerful hips snapping forward with greater force. Each stroke lengthened, a deeper, more deliberate claiming, yet the relentless, steady pace remained, an engine driving her relentlessly towards oblivion. His gaze burned into hers, blue fire consuming her.
She felt the coil inside her winding impossibly tighter, tighter than before, a pressure building beyond endurance. Every nerve screamed. Her thighs trembled violently where they gripped his hips. "I can't... I’m gonna–"
"Do it." His command was a ragged breath against her ear, his lips brushing her temple. "Let go for me, Liliana. Now." His thrusts became punishing, longer, deeper, that maddeningly steady rhythm a piston driving her relentlessly towards the edge. The friction was exquisite agony.
Her world imploded. It wasn't a wave; it was a detonation. Her back arched violently off the cold oak table, every muscle locking rigid. A silent scream tore from her throat as an excruciatingly tight orgasm ripped through her core, convulsions clamping down on him with shocking, vise-like intensity. It was a lock, a physical clench so powerful, so sudden, it physically arrested his movement, trapping him deep within her pulsing heat.
He groaned, a sound of pure, shattered relief. Held captive by her body’s fierce contraction, he shuddered. Thick, hot jets pulsed into her depths, wave after wave flooding her womb with startling force. She felt the scalding heat, the profound fullness magnified by each spasm of his release, her own clenching rhythm milking him through the intensity. His forehead pressed hard against hers, breath gusting hot and uneven.
He stayed locked inside her, buried deep, as the violent tremors gradually subsided into aftershocks. His broad shoulders heaved. The only sounds were the frantic hammering of their hearts, the crackle of the fire, and their ragged, gasping breaths mingling in the charged air. Sweat slicked their skin where they were joined.
Slowly, carefully, Apollo withdrew, the glide eliciting a final, soft whimper from Liliana. He braced his hands on the table beside her hips, head hanging, golden hair veiling his face. His breathing was still harsh. Liliana lay completely spent, trembling uncontrollably, staring sightlessly at the shadowed ceiling vaults. Every inch of her felt raw, alive, utterly shattered.
Apollo lifted his head. His crystal blue eyes, still dark with the remnants of passion, met her dazed pink gaze. He didn't smile, but a profound, almost bewildered expression softened the sharp lines of his face. He reached out, his thumb brushing a damp tendril of pink hair off her cheek with surprising tenderness. His touch was gentle now, a stark contrast to the claiming fury of moments before.
"Liliana..." Her name on his lips sounded different. Raw.Reverent. Changed.