Quench the Fire by J.M. Snyder

Quench the Fire by J.M. Snyder GENRE: Erotica, Fantasy, Historical
LENGTH: 3,583 words

BLURB:

In To Love a God, Greek god Hephaestus finds his world — and his mind and body — set aflame by a minor water god named Aean.

In this follow-up story, Aean interrupts his celestial lover in the one place where Hephaestus is most powerful: his forge. Though busy with work, Hephaestus doesn’t mind the interruption, and when Aean suggests a reversal of their usual roles — this time with him on the receiving end of Hephaestus’s attentions — the smith hurries to comply.

This short story is nothing but one long sex scene between seasoned lovers. To learn more about how Hephaestus and Aean meet, be sure to check out the prequel!




E-BOOK ISBN: 9781935753360 | BUY IT NOW:
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EXCERPT:

As he watches the quivering liquid filling the quench tank, he sees a darkness grow beneath the briny water, a shadow that coalesces near the bottom of the tank and soon flows to fill its length. A man's knee breaks the surface, followed by a strong calf, long and lean, which ends in a large foot with thin, bony toes. Hephaestus stares at the water beading along the bare limb, runneling in crazed patterns through blond hair back down toward the knee, hurrying into the tank below. Experimentally the foot reaches out, easing beyond the tank's boundary, and brushes the hem of Hephaestus's heavy asbestos apron where it rests against his thigh.

The sudden press of material against his crotch flares his libido to life. In the span of a heartbeat, his cock goes from mildly amused to a raging inferno, and Hephaestus shifts his weight from one foot to the other so he can feel that damp, probing foot against the thick, dark hair whorled on his upper thigh.

The toes are cool where they dance across his heated skin. He turns, allowing them to play over his thigh -- the foot rubs up, reaching for his hip, then smoothes back down, the sough of flesh on flesh lost in the crackle of fire, the gentle lap of water. Setting his hammer aside, Hephaestus places his hand over the foot, just behind the toes. His knuckles are dingy and battered against the clean, pale foot, but the toes stretch as if pleased with his touch. Squeezing lightly, he mutters, "This better be you, Aean."

In response, the foot frees itself from his grip and slips beneath his apron to glance along his inner thigh. Short nails scrape through the wiry hair encasing his balls as Hephaestus grips the ankle to keep it from going any farther. His knees shake from heat and lust, and suddenly his dick throbs with the need for release. When the big toe tickles along the length of his cock, Hephaestus's mind blurs with raw, primal urges. Poseidon's staff rolls off the anvil, forgotten, as a growl starts deep in Hephaestus's throat, a sound so ancient, the mountain around him rumbles in response. With one strong tug, he pulls on the extended leg to bring his visitor out of the water.

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