Page 32 of Inked Desires

“Keep the change,” I say.

With a trembling hand, I lift the glass to my lips. The burn in my veins reminds me of the heat still throbbing between my legs. I keep drinking, trying to drown this insane craving my body still has for Ares.

“Not bad,” says a voice beside me.

I turn my head. A red-haired man with honey-colored eyes is standing there. His pale skin is dotted with a few freckles across his nose. He’s not bad-looking. A bit young for me, but he’ll do. I’m not looking for anything serious—just a reminder of how disappointing sex can be with the wrong person.

And this guy looks like the perfect candidate.

CHAPTER 8

ARÈS

My muscles burn. Acid pulses through my veins, forcing me to face the truth, but I refuse. I breathe deeply, savoring the scent of release still lingering in the air, and bury my nose deeper into his black curls. His body, hot against mine, radiates warmth. I silently thank Kiran for bringing him back. Without him, I would’ve completely lost control. He was so drunk he could barely walk, leaning on Kiran just to get home.

He misunderstood me—and that’s exactly what I wanted. I needed him to leave. But the second he walked out that door, I realized I’d made a huge mistake.

The stirring beside me pulls me from my thoughts. He’s waking up. He’s definitely going to have a hangover. His body stiffens, then slowly he turns his head toward me and blinks. When he sees me, he relaxes.

“Oh. It’s you,” he murmurs sleepily.

“If Kiran hadn’t been there, you’d be waking up in Theo’s bed right now,” I growl.

Andrew freezes, then closes his eyes again. I gently brush a stray curl from his face.

“And that would’ve beenmychoice,” he replies sharply, making my blood boil.

“I’d have smashed that fucker’s face in,” I snap.

“And who gave you the right?”

I pull him against me, sliding my leg over his bare thighs.

“You did. Grinding against me like a damn stripper, terrified you’re nothing but a replacement for someone else.Yougave me that right.”

He raises a hand to rub his forehead, eyes still shut.

“I don’t belong to you,” he mutters.

“That can be arranged,” I bark, and throw myself fully on top of him.

His body immediately softens beneath mine.

The idea of another man touching him drives me insane. Kissing those full lips, tasting him. Something snaps in my mind. He’s melted my entire world in a way that can’t be undone, and I can’t hold back anymore. I already couldn’t yesterday.

I don’t give him a chance to think. I crush my lips to his and press my morning erection against his core. He moans, the sound ripping straight through me. I want more. I want him screaming my name, his body tightening around my cock, giving himself over to me completely.

Even if his mind fights back, his body begs me to keep going. His small hands claw at the bare skin of my back, silently pleading for more. And I’ll give him everything I have.

I press harder into him, savoring every soft noise that escapes his lips. I slide my tongue into his mouth, tasting his skin, drinking in his warmth. Nothing compares to this.

My hands, acting on their own, slip under his shirt. When my fingers find his nipples, my thoughts scatter. Fuck. They’re hard. Just enough to drive me crazy. Pure temptation. I pinch them firmly, and his hips jerk in response. My lips curl into a smile against his.

I test again. Another moan escapes his throat. I pull back just enough to glance between us. Holy shit. He’s so hard, his underwear looks ready to burst. He won’t last long.

I leave his nipples behind and trail my fingers down his stomach, reaching the waistband of his black boxer briefs. My mind fogs. All I can think about is uncovering this body that calls to me, unleashing everything I feel.

When my fingers brush over his cock, a deep groan rises from his chest. He’s ready. So fucking ready. I don’t waste time with slow teasing. He’s waited long enough.