Page 15

Chapter fifteen

~IRENE~

The door closes behind me with a quiet click, making my pulse skitter. I feel like I just stepped into something irreversible. This is no longer innocent or casual. This isn’t about professionalism, helping a player, or playing it safe. I’m crossing a line, and I love the rush of it. All of me loves the thrill of being alone with Ares in his room.

With a shaky breath, I make my way toward the large bed and lower myself on it.

The moment I set the kit down, I feel his eyes drop to it again.

“How’d you know which room I was in?” His voice is quiet, careful, measuring me.

“I asked Livia this morning,” I reply, peeking up at him. His jaw shifts, but he doesn’t respond; he stands there waiting, expecting me to explain myself further.

I swallow hard, nerves tightening in my chest. I’m in his room, this close to him, and everything inside me is buzzing with energy. I’ve been close to him before. But this time, it feels different. It feels like I’m about to make a choice I can’t undo, only it’s one I know I’m ready for.

“Sit,” I say, patting the side of the bed next to me, trying to sound more confident than I feel. When he raises a dark brow, I quickly add, “You’re bleeding.”

His gaze flicks down to his hand, where blood is drying in streaks over the skin, and I see a small recognition of the situation in his eyes, maybe an acceptance. Then, he moves. Lowering himself onto the bed next to me. His weight makes the mattress dip beneath him, his broad shoulders filling the space, his body a solid force. It should intimidate me, especially after what I saw. But all I can focus on is the need to take care of him like he took care of me when that guy was going too far.

I grab what I need—antiseptic, gauze, a few alcohol pads—my fingers shaking slightly as I open the packet. When I move closer, I feel my pulse spike. I take his hand in mine, and the contact is electrifying. His hand is warm, big, strong, and covered in ink and blood. For a moment, I forget to breathe. The steady beat of my heart is loud in my ears.

I press my lips together, trying to steady myself as I start cleaning the wound. The alcohol should sting, but he doesn’t flinch. His gaze stays fixed on me, heavy and constant. I can feel him watching my every move, and it makes me dizzy. The force of his attention, the way he looks at me like he’s trying to see through me, it’s making my heart pound in my ears.

“You know,” I murmur, “that guy could press charges.”

Ares exhales through his nose, and I glance up.

“If you weren’t watching,” he says quietly, “I would’ve killed him.”

A chill trickles down my spine. I should be horrified. Instead, I feel a dark curl low in my belly. Because I know he means it. Because he would’ve done it for me.

“Are you afraid?” His voice is low.

My fingers stop for just a second.

“Of what?” I know what he means, but I make him say it.

Ares tilts his head, his gaze narrowing, waiting. I inhale unevenly before shaking my head.

No. I’m not scared. Not of him. Not of what he did tonight.

Because the same hand that just split open skin, broke bone, sent a man crumbling to the ground… made flower crowns for a dozen little kids. The same hand dragged down my thigh, slid between my legs and pressed against me until I was shaking.

My breath catches, and suddenly, I can’t stop thinking about it. About this same hand, this same bloodied, bruised hand, being the one that touched me there.

My thighs clench as heat flares in my cheeks.

I lift my gaze, pulse hammering, and Ares is already watching me.

He knows. He knows exactly what I just thought about, what I just felt. My grip on his hand loosens, and my fingers slide under his palm. He takes his left hand and stops me. His fingers curl around mine, gently taking my hand off his.

“Why are you here, Irene?” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving mine.

“I…I came to thank you. For what you did.” I swallow. “And I came to clean up your wounds.”

Silence, thick and heavy, falls over us when he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t buy a single word of it, either. His head tilts and heat flashing in his gaze. He’s waiting for me to stop lying.

I exhale loudly, my heart hammering in my throat. I hate how well he can see through me.

But I’m starting to see something else, too. I’m starting to see the cracks in his armor. He’s carrying something heavy and painful that no one’s taken the time to heal. Maybe no one even knows it’s there. But I see it in the way he fights, in the way he pushes people away. There’s pain that he hides behind all that strength. I want to see it. I want to know just how deep it goes. I want to help him, to tell him he’ll be okay. Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. I know it’s not that simple. And yet, I want to be the one who sees him, who helps him find peace with himself. I want to see the ugliest parts of him and show him I’m not afraid of it.

I wet my lips and forced my hand not to shake in his.

“Whatever you think about me, you’re wrong,” I finally say.

He raises a brow, and I press on. “I saw how you didn’t come to me after you walked out of the bathroom with Rowan.” My voice wavers slightly, but I hold his gaze. “You left Livia with me. But you didn’t take your eyes off me. Not once.”

His chest rises and falls, but he still doesn’t say anything.

“You wanted to come to me.” I inhale deeply. I scoot closer, not even realizing I’m doing it. “But you didn’t because you thought I’d be scared of you.”

“Were you?” His voice is calm, but there’s a hint of surprise in it.

“No.” The word comes out without thought, strong and firm. Because deep down, I know it’s the truth. I’m not afraid of him—not in the way he thinks.

I feel his fingers tighten around mine.

“I’m not afraid of you, Ares.” I shake my head. “Not the way you think, at least.” There’s a part of me that’s terrified of what he’s making me feel and another part that’s been craving this closeness and connection. A part that doesn’t want to play it safe. Not this time.

His brow furrows in an unspoken question. “I’m afraid of…” I swallow hard, trying to find the right words. How do I even explain this? How do I explain that the fear I feel isn’t of him but of what he’s awakening inside me?

He doesn’t rush me, doesn’t interrupt. He waits, his presence so intense that it feels like the world is shrinking to just the two of us. He’s waiting for me to be honest, to admit the truth. “I’m afraid of what you’re making me feel. But I’m not afraid of you.”

Ares inhales, his eyes darkening. Searching my face as if he’s trying to figure out if this is all some game. But I can see it in his eyes now—the hunger, the vulnerability he’s trying to bury. It’s all there. And then, without a word, he lifts his injured hand and wraps it around my throat.

The action is slow, giving me time to pull back if I want to. But I don’t. I don’t want to move, not when his palm is so warm against my skin. His fingers press just enough to make my breath catch in my throat. I can feel my pulse beating under his hand, fast and erratic like it’s trying to escape my body. But I’m not scared. Instead, I feel something else building inside me.

His eyes burn into mine, questioning. “What about now?” My heart slams. A slow, agonizing, pulsing warmth that seeps into my veins and into my core. I don’t look away or pull back. I can feel his thumb press lightly into my pulse. Then I shake my head.

“No.” My voice is almost above a whisper. “There’s nothing you can do to scare me away,” Because underneath all that intensity, beneath the silence and sharp edges—he's all heart. And I see it.

His fingers flex against my throat, testing, feeling, committing this moment to memory. Then his fingers tighten a little more, and I know he’s waiting for me to take it back, to flinch. To prove him right.

But I don’t. I won’t.

Instead, I lift my hand and place it over his. My fingers graze his split knuckles as I flatten my palm against the back of his large hand. And I push. I press against his hand, forcing his fingers to tighten around my throat.

Ares’ lips part. Blistering heat flashes in his eyes, and it burns me alive. He takes in a heavy breath, making his chest rise and fall.

Then—suddenly—his free hand swipes the first aid kit off the bed. Gauze, wipes, antiseptic—all of it scatters. Before I can process it, his grip tightens enough to make me dizzy as he pushes me down onto the bed.

My back hits the soft mattress, and my breath leaves me in a rush. My heart skips a beat as Ares leans in so close his lips brush past my ear.

“Brave little thing.” His voice is sin itself.

A shudder rips through me, and my fingers tighten around his wrist. He tilts his head, his nose skimming my jaw, his breath hot against my flushed cheek. His grip stays firm, not choking, just holding, claiming, marking. But it’s more than that. His touch isn’t just physical, it’s possessive. It makes me want to give him more, to let him take whatever he wants.

And then slowly – so slowly, his lips lower. Inch by excruciating inch, until they press against mine, soft and hot. Heat pools low in my stomach, then twists before firing off. His kiss is gentle and maddening in its slowness.

I feel each stroke, each press of his lips. His hand is still on my throat, still holding me down, but his mouth? It’s gentle and light, a contrast to the grip he has on me. It makes me feel like I’m losing control, but I don’t want to fight it. I’ve never wanted this before, but with him? I want more. I crave all of it.

He kisses me like he’s memorizing me, savoring me. His tongue snakes out and strokes mine softly. His teeth nip at my bottom lip, pulling and teasing. I whimper into his mouth, and his chest rumbles with a groan. The sound shudders through me as I feel his body, his weight, pressing me down.

I’ve never thought about sex like this. Not really. It’s never been about waiting for the right person or the right time. It’s never been something I’ve needed. But now? Now it’s different. I never even realized that I was waiting for something to awaken inside me. And Ares…he’s the one who’s done it. He’s the one who’s made me feel this way. And God, I’ve never wanted anything more.

My hands slide into his hair. It’s soft and thick between my fingers as I tug. Ares exhales sharply, and he pulls back. His mouth hovers over mine, his breath brushing my lips. And his eyes—blue fire.

Then I feel it. Ares’ fingers drag up my thigh, slow and deliberate.

A cruel tease and a dark promise. I part my legs without meaning to, without thinking. But Ares doesn’t take the bait. He watches me, his head tilted slightly, waiting for me to realize what I just did. What I just gave him.

His lips twitch just before his hand trails higher. Up the soft skin of my inner thigh, over the hem of my dress, but he doesn’t touch me where I need him to. I let out a frustrated sound. His lips curl upward into a slight smirk.

“Should I be good and go slow with you, hm?” he asks, his voice teasing.

Heat slams through me as I blink up at him, breathless and dazed. God, yes. And no. I want it all—slow, rough, endless. His free hand skims the line of my waist and up my ribs, his thumb brushing under the curve of my breast. Not touching, hovering, making me lose my mind.

His lips brush against mine. I lift my head, deepening the kiss, pressing my lips against him and tilting my head to get a better angle. He tastes like mint, and a trace of smoke. It’s wicked and addictive. A groan rumbles deep in his chest as his tongue claims mine, demanding, tasting, owning.

And finally, he touches me. His fingers slide between my thighs, pressing against the heat of me over my panties. I suck in a breath. Ares swallows it.

“Christ,” he murmurs as his fingers flex and drag over me in slow circles. “You’re so fucking wet for me.”

A choked sound leaves my throat, and I don’t know if it’s from his words or the way he’s touching me. “I can feel how bad you want this.” His fingers flex. I arch against him, my hands gripping his shoulders, his arms, anything to hold on to. He drags his fingers against me, slowly mapping out every inch of heat. I gasp as his mouth finds my neck, my jaw, my throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses. “Do you want me in this wet little pussy, Irene?” he murmurs against my skin. My hips buck against his hand in response.

Ares chuckles, the vibration sending shivers down the side of my neck.

“I want you to be a good girl and tell me.”

The words wreck me like a bomb detonating inside my chest, inside my stomach, inside my soul. I gasp, my hands clutching at his arms, my entire body shaking under him. I’ve never done this before. I’ve never let a man touch me. Never felt this kind of need, this kind of complete, unrelenting lust. And he’s making me admit it.

Ares’ fingers press against me again, sliding over my soaked panties, and it’s enough to make my thighs shake. “Say it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my jaw, my throat. “You knew exactly what you were doing,” he grits out, breath hot on my skin. “You wanted to see what would happen if I broke.” His fingers drag lower and press, but he doesn’t give me what I need. I whimper, my hips arching into him, desperate for more.

“Now you’re here,” he says, his voice so dark, so cruel. “Right where I want you, letting me do whatever the fuck I want. But I want to hear what you want.”

I squeeze my eyes shut as heat pools low in my stomach, a pulsing ache I don’t know how to get rid of. I feel his warm breath against my lips, his mouth hovering just out of reach. “Beg,” he whispers, and his fingers press harder, deeper, teasing my entrance over my the fabric, making me feel every second of his control.

“Ares,” I whimper.

“Yes?” he drawls, slow and lazy.

I gasp, my whole body burning as he drags his fingers away. I choke on a frustrated sob, my entire body desperate for something I’ve never had.

“Please,” I say, my voice a harsh whisper.

“Please, what?” He lifts his head, eyes burning. I swallow. “I need you.”

“Need me to what?” He tilts his head, waiting.

My face is on fire, and my stomach tightens. I close my eyes, but Ares’ fingers leave my throat to curl under my chin, tilting my head toward him.

“Look at me when you say it.”

I whimper from the frustration, the need, the unbearable pressure curling deep inside me.

“Please…fuck me.”

“Christ, Irene,” he rasps, his entire body tensing as his chest rises and falls.“ You don’t know what that does to me.”

He grabs my thigh, yanks me closer, and gives me a hard, possessive kiss. I press against him, my body begging for more even before I know what more is.

With his lips still on mine, his hands move, fast and rough. The sound of fabric ripping tears through the room before I register what’s happening.

My dress.

My heart skips a beat, my entire body locking up as the cool air rushes over my bare skin.

I suck in a sharp breath, my hands flying up, instinctively trying to cover myself, but Ares grabs my wrists.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls, pinning my wrists down on the mattress, keeping me exposed. Ares’ eyes rake over me, slow and deliberate. His jaw clenches, his restraint visible in every tight line of his face as his gaze lingers on my bare breasts—dark, intense, and devouring.

“So fucking perfect,” he praises me. “I’ve never wanted anything like I want you.” His lips slide against my throat, my collarbone, my skin—kissing, licking, biting—until his mouth finds my nipple.

“Oh, God,” I moan, fingers curling in his hair to press him harder against me.

Ares groans, dragging his teeth over the sensitive skin, his tongue following, soothing the sting. I arch against him, my body shaking as I fist his hair.

“Delicious,” he says against me. He flicks his tongue again, and I feel it everywhere. His fingers press against my clit, and my hips jolt. A sound breaks free from my throat when he circles his fingers, pressing just enough to make me tremble but not enough to satisfy. He’s making me wait, making me feel every second of this as his teeth graze my nipple again.

And then I feel my panties being pulled to the side. The cool air hits me right before his fingers find me again. Skin to skin, brushing against my bare clit. A moan slips free and I raise my hips, pressing into his touch.

His teeth nip my nipple again, not hard, but enough to heighten the burning need deep in belly. His fingers move with deliberate softness, exploring and teasing, leaving me helpless beneath his touch.

“Tell me no one’s ever touched you like this,” he rasps, almost like it’s too much to believe. When I don’t answer, Ares lifts his head, his expression dark as sin.

I freeze, my cheeks getting hot. How does he know? How can he tell?

I squeeze my eyes shut, my face burning.

“Say it.” He demands, as his fingers press deeper.

I force myself to look at him. His gaze holds mine, and I shake my head, my breath coming too fast, too uneven.

“No,” I whisper.

His eyes flash as he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth with a slow wolfish grin. His hand clamps around my jaw as he slides his chin up my sternum, his lower lip dragging against my skin until his mouth finds mine. His kiss is deep and claiming, all hunger and lust.

His fingers are still teasing me, still making me shake with every slow stroke, unraveling me inch by inch. But he’s not giving me enough. I wither, hips jerking, desperate. Ares watches me, his breath hot against my throat.

“If I don’t slow down…” His voice is tight, wrecked. “I’ll lose it.” He leans in, his mouth so close I can feel every heated word.“ I want this to be good,” he murmurs. “I want you to remember your first time.”

I let out a broken sound—undone by how much he wants it to matter.

“Why did you come here?” he asks again, his voice low, lethal.

“I…I wanted to bandage your hand.” I shake my head, whimpering.

“No.” His voice is rough. “You didn’t come here for bandages.” He tilts my chin up. “You came here because you couldn’t stop thinking about what it would feel like to have me between your legs.”

Heat slams through me as I gasp, my entire body tensing.

Ares hums before he starts pulling my panties down, just like he did in my office. I help him by lifting my legs, one after the other, and he slides them off, tossing them onto the bed. I drop my legs around him, completely naked. His gaze falls between my thighs, and instinctively, try to close them. He stops me, his strong hands pressing against the inside of my thigh, keeping me open wide. His eyes burn into spot between my legs, and I feel them like a physical touch.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his voice wrecked as he takes in the sight of me. His fingers brush against me, spreading my wetness, teasing the most sensitive part of me.

“That’s going to be a tight fit, little one,” he says, staring down at me. “And you’re going to take all of me, aren’t you?” He leans in, voice raw.

I breathe out, my stomach tightening at his words. Then he pulls away, sitting back on his heels. My legs are still wrapped around his hips, still trembling.

“Aren’t you?” he echoes, his hand moving toward his zipper.

Oh, God.

My heart skips a beat, watching him pull it down, revealing the waistband of his briefs.

“Maybe you should help me take my wallet out?” Ares watches me closely, a lazy, dark smirk pulling at his lips.

My stomach drops. I know exactly what he’s referring to, the memory burning hot. That day in my office, when I’d tapped his bottoms and told him to take his wallet out and…

My face floods with embarrassment, but I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face and the giggle that threatens to escape me. Instead, I bite my lip and look up at him with a smile. Ares grins back, watching me silently before he takes my hand and pulls it towards him.

I let him, completely entranced. He’s so intoxicating, so powerful, so in completely in control. And yet, he’s handing it to me.

“Go on, little thing. Take what you want.” His voice is thick, dripping in sinful amusement.

My lungs stop working, anticipation coiling in my gut. Ares’ eyes are on me. He’s waiting. Daring me to take the next step. And I can’t stop myself.

With a shaky breath, I reach for him, my fingers hesitant and unsure. Ares’ lips curve, and it’s devastating.

“There you go, baby.” The praise grips my core. Ares watches my hand move closer, releasing it from his hold. “Be a big girl. Take it out yourself.” His voice is low, coaxing, dangerously smooth.

My breath shudders as my fingers slip past his waistband and into his boxers. Ares’ abs flex when my fingers make contact with his hard, hot length.

Ares muscles tense, and his jaw ticks.

“Wrap your hand around it.” The command is so wrecked, so intoxicating.

My stomach flips at his words. My fingers obey. I push in further and close my hand around him. Heat races to my cheeks, my walls tightening in anticipation. He feels thick and heavy in my palm. His skin is so soft, such a contrast to how rigid he feels beneath it. I tighten my hold around it, looking up at him to soak up his reaction.

Ares hisses through his teeth and shifts his hips. He pushes his pants down further and helps me take him out completely, and my mouth falls open. His cock matches the rest of him. Huge and intimidating.

His breathing is uneven. His chest rises and falls too fast as his cock pulses in my hand. The sheer size of him makes my fingers seem too small. I don’t even know if I’m holding him right.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to imagine this thing inside me, and…I can’t. He’ll tear me open.

I jerk when I feel his fingers brushing against my clit, circling again. I gasp, arching. “This is all mine,” he murmurs, his fingers slick with me as they tease, stroke, circle—driving me to the edge. “You’ve been saving this for me. Right, baby?” He pauses. Then he leans in, his mouth brushing the shell of my ear. “And I won’t forget that, little thing.”

I gasp, my voice broken. My fingers tighten around him—uncertain, not knowing if I’m doing it right but needing to touch him.

Then Ares’ hand wraps over mine, and he starts guiding my hand.

Up. Down.

His jaw flexes. I grip tighter, and he hisses.

“Yes. Just like that.” His voice is raw with approval.

I want to do it again. Want to hear what sounds I can pull from him. Then his mouth is on mine. His lips are hot and consuming, his tongue pushing in deep. I can feel the heat of him in my hand. I keep stroking him, gripping him, making him groan.

Ares fingers slide through my lips, spreading them. He breaks the kiss, his lips brushing my cheek. His fingers coax the wetness around, making me feel how drenched I am.

My eyes flutter closed. I don’t even know when my hand slipped off his cock, but now they’re fisting the sheets beside me.

His fingers move up, gliding over my clit, pressing in just enough to have me arching. I open my eyes to see Ares kneeling between my thighs, his cock heavy and thick in his fist. He’s touching me, spreading me open with his right hand while his left slides up and down the intimidating size of his cock.

“Ready to feel me, baby?” he rasps, breath shaky. “I’ll stretch you slow. But you're taking every inch,” he drawls with a long stroke of his thumb across my clit.

Heat slams through me, and I nod, too fast and desperate.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises, and slaps his cock against my spread lips, making me jolt.

Once.

Twice.

Loud, wet, and obscene.

I moan, my back instinctively arching into the contact.

“Fucking look at you,” he murmurs, dragging his cock against me. “So fucking eager to take me.”

I can’t handle this. I can’t handle his voice, his words, his cock pressing against me, making me feel every inch before he even puts it inside.

He nudges his thick cock at my entrance. I whimper as Ares leans down over me. “Deep breath,” he instructs, his voice low and steady against my skin. “I’m going to take my time with you.”

Then he starts to push inside, making me cry out from the sudden stretch.

“Ares,” I moan, my nails scraping his shoulders.

“Shh. I know, baby. You can take it.” He licks my nipple before sucking it deep into his mouth, while pushing his thick head deeper inside me. “I’m going to fuck you so slow.” His breath fans over my nipple. His mouth is hot against my skin. His fingers are still between my legs, teasing, torturing, and ruining me while he lets me adjust.

I need him inside me. All of him, no matter how much it’s going to hurt. So, I do the only thing I can think of—I raise my legs, lock them around the small of his back, and try to pull him in deeper. Ares’ eyes snap to mine, wild and burning.

“You want all of this cock, little thing?” he growls, before his mouth crashes down on mine—I feel the tip of his cock move inside me.

He breaks the kiss, his breath hot against my lips. “Then take it,” he rasps. My breath catches, and he smirks. “Use my body.”

A shiver rips down my spine as his hands slide up to grip my waist. “Make that tight little pussy feel good,” he says, rolling his hips—sinking an inch deeper.

“Oh my God,” I groan, my eyes rolling back as he stretches me open around him.

“Breathe.” His hands are on my waist, strong and steady, grounding me. My fingers tremble against his hard shoulders, the muscles flexing beneath my touch. His breath is slow and controlled. His jaw tight, clenched.

I lift my gaze—and everything locks into place. I know there’s no going back. I know I would never want to.

“Let me in,” he growls. I nod, breathless, as he pushes inside. My mouth falls open with a gasp. The stretch is sharp—too much. Pleasure twisted with pain. But Ares’ thumb finds my clit, circling slow and steady, dragging me into the sensation. His jaw clenches as he watches my reaction, my fingers gripping his muscles like a lifeline. My lips tremble. My hands clutch. “You’re so… big,” I choke out. He leans in, his lips brushing my ear. “I know. But you can take it.” Then his hand slides into my hair, tugging until I’m forced to look between us. “Look at how well you’re taking me,” he growls.

“Oh my God.” The words rip from my throat. My body stretches wide around him, lips parting for every inch of thick cock sinking into me.

“Feel that?” he rasps, driving deeper. “That’s me—opening you up.”

My nails bite into his back as I cry out, head falling when he releases my hair.

“Want to know how it feels?” he growls, his hand sliding around my throat. “Want to feel how tight your pussy’s squeezing my cock?”

His fingers tighten until my mind starts to blur.

It’s too much.

It’s not enough.

His hand releases my throat, and I part my lips, greedily sucking in air.

“That’s it,” Ares groans. “Does it hurt good?” Ares’ lips curve.

I nod, not able to process anything except the way he feels. The way he’s breaking me and putting me back together at the same time.

“Use your voice.”

“Yes,” I moan. “It’s… so… good.” I breathe each word out, dizzy from the stretch.

“That’s my girl,” he growls, voice dropping to a dark rasp. “This is what you begged for, isn’t it?”

He thrusts—and this time, he doesn’t hold back.

My back arches, my nails sink into his skin, and I cry out as he pushes all the way in, filling me completely.

Ares’ groan is everything. His forehead drops to mine. His breath is uneven and ragged.

“Fuck, you feel so good. So fucking tight.”

Heat floods me and consumes me. And then he starts moving, dragging his cock out of me before pushing it back in. The sounds he’s pulling out of me don’t even sound like my own voice.

Every inch of him is breaking me open, stretching me wide, claiming me.

My nails dig into his forearms.

“You’re doing so good.” he say before he thrusts again, a little harder.

“Oh my God, Ares!” I cry out, my eyes rolling back, pleasure flooding my belly.

He buries his face in my neck, “Tell me how you want it.” Another thrust, so slow it’s unbearable.

His hips still, and his fingers hover over my clit. He wants me to say it.

My face burns.

“Please,” I beg, unsure of what to say. “Please…move.”

And then he does. Each thrust is a stretch, a claiming. Ares watches every reaction, every moan, every flutter of my lashes.

His fingers trace along my thigh, down to where we’re joined. His touch sends a violent shiver through me. He starts to move faster, harder, making me lock my legs behind his waist.

He pulls out almost all the way, then slams back in with a force that steals the air from my lungs. Filling me until there’s nothing left but the way he feels inside me.

“Where do you want my cum, little thing?” His deep voice breaks through the haze.

My mind goes blank. My lips part, but nothing comes out.

“You haven’t thought about that, have you?” His sinful chuckle sends a shiver through me.

I shake my head, trying to process his words.

Ares groans, picking up the pace. His hand slides down my stomach, rough fingers finding my clit again.

A sharp cry escapes me as he rubs in devastating circles, working me while his cock finds places I didn’t know existed.

“Where do you want it?” His lips ghost over mine. I moan, hips lifting, body chasing the pleasure but he stills, his cock halfway out of me. His fingers slow. “Not gonna fuck you until you tell me.” My breath shudders as I look at him, drowning in his blue eyes.

“I…” I pant. I don’t know! “Wherever you want,” I breathe out, trying to lift my hips toward him.

Ares presses my hips down, pinning me against the bed.

“Don’t give me that kind of power,” he warns, dark and low. “I’d fill your pussy with so much cum, you’ll have it dripping down your legs.”

His filthy words send a shockwave of pleasure straight through me. He lets out a low laugh before kissing the corner of my mouth and thrusting deep again, dragging a moan from my throat.

“Can’t decide?” he taunts, rolling his hips until he hits a spot that steals the air from my lungs. “My choice, then,” he growls, eyes darkening with something primal.

That look—sharp and hungry, wrecks me.

His body traps mine beneath his, holding me exactly where he wants me as he slides in and out with a devastating rhythm.

“Let me hear you,” he rasps, thrusting harder, pressing against that spot that makes me cry out.

My nails rake across his back, arms, shoulders—anywhere I can reach—as he pounds into me, relentless.

I’m spiraling too fast. My thighs tremble. My stomach tightens. I’m right there, on the edge, and there’s no coming back.

“That’s it, little thing. I can feel you.” His fingers press harder as he circles my clit with precision.

“I want to hear what you sound like when you break for me.” His voice wraps around me, pulling me in further.

I’m falling. No. I’m being dragged into the fire of him, and he’s holding me there. Watching me burn.

A sharp, helpless cry rips from my throat.

His hips slap against mine, deep, dragging his cock to the exact speed of my unraveling.

I look up at him and forget how to breathe. He’s above me like a god made of shadows and sin, every inch of him sculpted, massive, and covered in black ink.

Each muscle is tight with restraint, his chest slick with sweat, veins bulging in his arms.

His eyes are fixed on my face like I’m the only thing in the world. And he’s so beautiful it hurts.

Not pretty.

Not handsome.

Devastating.

Raw and unforgiving.

His lips find mine, but he doesn’t kiss me. He just lets me chase the taste of him, lets me ache for it as my body tightens, trembles, and falls apart.

“You feel that deep ache in your belly?” His hand tightens around my thigh.

I can’t even nod. I’m too close, too full of him, too far gone.

“You have five seconds to come on my cock,” he growls, “or I'm blowing this whole load in your pussy.” His voice is a snarl now, as his thrusts grow rougher.

The threat alone is enough to send me over the edge. And I shatter. Completely, loudly, shamelessly.

Ares watches me, owning every twitch, every gasp, every scream I give him. His hips slamming into mine with punishing control.

“Fuck,” he growls, the word ripping straight from his chest. His abs tighten above me, straining as his fingers dig into my thigh, while the waves of my orgasm tear through me.

And then he pulls out, instantly making me feel empty, my walls tightening around nothing. He wraps a fist around his cock and strokes fast, his muscles flexing, his face twisted in pure, ecstasy.

And God. He looks unreal.

His tattoos shift with every movement. His chest heaves, and his eyes lock on me like he’s watching something sacred, like he’s watching his own destruction.

“Look at me,” he commands.

And I do. His hand moves faster, and his mouth drops open. A sound tears from his throat as he finally comes. Hot. Heavy. All over my stomach.

It lands across my belly, marking me in hot, thick ropes. He groans, his head falling forward, black strands covering his eyes. I’m panting beneath him, still reeling from the aftershocks of my own orgasm.

Ares leans over me, one hand planted beside my head, the other still wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing the last drops out of him, dragging it over my skin like he owns every inch.

“That’s what you do to me, little thing.” His voice is breathless.

I can’t answer. But I believe him.

Because I can see it, I can feel it.

All over me.