Aphrodite's Choice

Chapter 23 – First Night (II)

“Not at all.”

“I hope you were joking, although I must say, it wasn’t very funny.”

Hephaestus raised an eyebrow, as if to say he had no idea what she was talking about. He didn’t seem to be laughing, either.

Aphrodite’s face crumpled. His words were like an arrow straight to the heart of her pride. How can he just stand in front of me and act so casual? He’s acting as if he isn’t remotely interested in consummating the marriage!

An idea sparked in her mind and her eyes widened slowly. Could it be?

“Are you a virgin?” she asked boldly.

“…..”

“I see,” she said. “You are a virgin, aren’t you?”

Hephaestus’s impassive expression didn’t change, but a subtle reddish hue bled into his face. It was an unexpected response from the ever-stoic God of Blacksmiths, but it wasn’t bad. In fact, it was very good for Aphrodite. She flowed up from her seat and wrapped her delicate hands around his thick forearm.

In her opinion, it didn’t matter if a man was a virgin when he had arms like these. The fact that he was so different from the other Olympian men only made him more intriguing. Given the fact he was blushing, she couldn’t help but tease him.

“Is that why you’re trying to avoid me? Because you’re not confident about what to do with me?”

“It’s not like that,” Hephaestus said stiffly.

“I think I’m right,” she cooed, nuzzling her cheek against his bicep. “If there’s any other reason, tell me.”

“I have a reason, but I don’t want to tell you.”

“Excuses like that won’t work.”

Hephaestus sighed. “It seems as if you are not ready.”

Aphrodite leaned back in surprise to stare at him. “Me? What about me?”

“You don’t have any experience either, and right now your memories…”

Oh, I can’t listen to this nonsense anymore. Aphrodite burst into bright, silvery peals of laughter. She didn’t want to think about the story she’d forgotten about so long ago.

“I’m the Goddess of Love. Do you think I don’t know about it like you just because I don’t have any experience?” she asked, still giggling.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Oh, is that so? Then prove it.”

She threw herself into his arms, deliberately pressing herself against his chest. Hephaestus shook, gritting his teeth. This is too funny. She snuggled herself against him, pressing them together from chest to hip, so he couldn’t help feel the soft press of her curves and the satiny texture of her skin.

“Aphrodite, stop it.” The strain in his voice made it clear that he was deliberately holding himself back.

I knew it. He wants me. She’d never thought she would be playing the part of a bride conquering the shy groom, but this was fun in its own way. She rubbed his arms and murmured in approval. She could feel the texture of his tight muscles and thick veins under the pads of her fingertips.

“We just became a couple, Hephaestus,” she said sweetly.

“Yes,” he said, his tone gruff. “So why are you in such a hurry?”

“What are you talking about? Is there something more important than consummating our marriage?”

The scent of him aroused her. It was a peculiar smell: ashes and the sulphurous heat of boiling lava. He didn’t look like the type of man to use incense, so it had to be his natural scent. She’d never expected her body would react to this kind of thing.

Hephaestus was reluctant, but there was no reason  for him to be turning her down unless there was something wrong with him. His denial only made her more eager.

I want to have him. I will have him.

Impulsively, Aphrodite threw her arms around his neck. Her voluptuous breasts pressed into him. He inhaled sharply and released his tightly-crossed arms.

“Aphrodite!” he reprimanded.

All he has to do is hug me with those incredible arms of him. I’ll conquer him, little by little. She began to drive him into a corner, herding him like an experienced hunter.

“If we don’t consummate the marriage, everyone on Olympus will be gossiping about us.”

“I don’t care.”

“Maybe you don’t, but I do!” Aphrodite insisted. “What will become of me when they hear the Goddess of Love was not loved on her own wedding night.”

“That’s…” Hephaestus started.

She’d got him there. He couldn’t deny her irrefutable argument, and the whole time she’d been arousing him with every weapon in her arsenal. When she pushed her hand through his thick black hair and stroked her fingers down his neck and back, his blazing red pupils widened in the center of his smoldering gray-red eyes.

It was time for him to put his head in the trap.