Page 19

Chapter nineteen

~IRENE~

I sit at my desk, staring blankly at my laptop screen. The patient log in front of me is still untouched. I’ve been looking at the same names for what feels like forever, but my brain’s not processing anything.

The ice in my coffee is almost gone, but it doesn’t really matter because no matter how many times I try to focus, my mind just keeps circling back to him.

I haven’t seen Ares in over a week. We landed back in LA ten days ago, and I haven’t spoken to him since. When we returned, I had two days off to decompress before jumping back into work. Apparently, Ares had gone to see Dr. Mathews in my absence, who’d taken one look at his hip and ordered him off the ice for two weeks.

I spent those two days volunteering at the youth center. And even though I knew Ares wasn’t coming, I couldn’t stop glancing at the door every time it opened. The fantasy of him walking through the doors wouldn’t leave my mind. When I returned to work, Ares was already gone, sent off to rest and heal.

I immediately checked in with Mathews, who told me that Ares has a hip pointer. Nothing major or broken, so he should be as good as new with two weeks of rest and icing the area.

I thought I’d feel relieved that he was resting, that he was finally giving himself time to heal, but all I felt was the emptiness of his absence. It feels like he’s slipping through my fingers, distancing himself again. And I’ve missed him more than I want to admit.

I look down at the time in the bottom right corner of my screen, wiping my damp palms on my skirt.

Mathews is off today, and Ares is coming in for a checkup. I’ll finally see him again after days of overthinking every single thing that’s happened between us. I can’t stop the flutter in my stomach. I haven’t told anyone about what happened between us, not even Sydney, my best friend who’s been texting me non-stop. It’s not that I don’t want to tell her, I just wanted to process this on my own without an external opinion clouding my judgment.

I take a deep breath and check the time again. He will be here any minute now, and my entire body feels like I’ve had too much caffeine. Realizing I’ve been biting my nails—a habit I rid myself of years ago—I quickly bring my hands down to my lap.

Get it together, Irene.

No matter what I’ve been keeping myself busy with these past ten days, my thoughts always maneuver back to him.

What we did.

And the worst part? I loved it. I loved how he made me feel. Like I was someone else, someone bold and reckless and free.

I lean back in my chair, exhaling slowly, but the rush of memories crashes through me again.

That house. His house.

He let me believe we were breaking in, let me panic and think we were committing an actual felony. He made me imagine getting arrested with him inside me. And I couldn’t get enough of it. The more he pushed, the more I wanted him to push harder. The more he made me feel like I could get arrested because of him, the more I felt alive. And I loved it.

God. What is wrong with me?

I glance around my office like someone might answer me. I’ve always been the good girl. The one who does everything by the book—the daughter my parents can be proud of. The kind of girl who didn’t break the rules, not even a little.

But Ares has shattered that image of me in my own mind. I mean, he literally had me performing for cameras. How did he manage to make me feel like this? How has he altered everything I thought I knew about myself?

I press my hands to my face, groaning into my palms. I’ve never been like this. Now, I’ve got a tree of a man who growls when he touches me, who whispers the most filthy, unhinged things and makes me want them. It’s not just the sex. It’s how he looks at me and knows what I’m thinking before I even think it.

And then the car ride. My heart still skips a beat remembering it.

“I wanted to be close to you.” That’s what he’d said to me. Honest and blunt. I can’t even describe the giddiness that hit me when he said that.

I bite down on my lower lip, trying to hide the stupid smile creeping up. He wanted to be near me. Ares Black, all violent chaos and muscle, the man who knocks people on the ice like it’s foreplay, wanted to be close to me.

But what happens when he finds out who I really am? What happens when he finds out that I’ve been hiding it? That I’m not just some random girl interning here, but his coach’s daughter.

I almost told him. But the words never left my lips. I was too afraid of what it would do. Too afraid that he’d pull away, like he’s done before.

What if he sees me as a complication, or worse, as someone who could hurt his career?

The thought makes my stomach twist in knots. I can’t stand the thought of him pushing me away again. Not after the way he’s changed everything.

But I also can’t keep trying to hide who I am.

I turn to the mirror across the office and catch a glimpse of myself—flushed cheeks, bright eyes, and lips raw from constantly biting them.

And now, I have to treat him like a professional. I have to pretend I haven’t seen him at his filthiest, and that he hasn’t seen me loving every second of it.

I push my chair back and stand up, palms sweaty as I reach for his chart.

I have to keep it together, pretend he’s the patient and I’m just the PTA, but I’m not sure I can. And even though part of me wants to pull back…another part of me? The part that’s been sleeping since forever?

That part is screaming for him to come to me.

The knock on my door is soft but unmistakable. My stomach flips, and before I can even process it, my head whips to the door just in time to see him.

Ares Black. Taller than any sane man should be. T-shirt stretched across his chest, tattoos peeking out from the sleeves and collar. Pale eyes like a storm cloud that’s already decided what it’s going to ruin.

The second the door clicks shut behind him, the air in the room changes.

He doesn’t say anything right away. He just…stands there like he owns the room and everything in it.

“Hi,” I say, my voice slightly breathless.

“Hi,” he echoes, calm and measured. His jaw is sharp, his black hair messy.

God, my entire body buzzes the second I see him. Every inch of my body remembers what he did to me.

The weight of his gaze makes my heart stutter. This man doesn’t even have to try, and I’m already a hot mess.

“I brought you lunch.” He steps forward and drops a paper bag on my desk.

“You…what?” My heart stops for a second. These are definitely not the first words I expected to leave his mouth after all these days of not seeing him.

“Livia said she didn’t see you down at the restaurant today.” He raises an eyebrow. “Which means you haven’t eaten.”

I blink, glancing at the time and realizing I’ve been too busy thinking about him to think about food.

“I got you honey chicken and a cheesecake.”

I glance down at the paper bag he brought me. He thought about me? It’s a small gesture, yet I know it’s more than chicken and cheesecake. He considered me and brought me lunch. Warmth spreads through me at the thought.

My eyes lock with his just as he steps closer. My heart kicks at the sight of him—because for the past ten days, all it’s had is the memory of him.

I want to tell him. I want to say it. I could explain, right now. But the words get stuck in my throat every time. Every time I think about it, fear locks up my chest. I’m scared, and it’s eating me up inside.

“Thank you,” I manage, still puzzled that somehow, in between destroying me and consuming me, he thought to bring me lunch.

And now he’s standing here, looking at me like he already knows I want him again.

“You’re welcome.” He leans back over the exam table slightly, palms braced on either side of him. It makes his triceps bulge, and his arms look even bigger.

My legs tremble, and I can barely keep myself upright as I watch him. He’s too much. The way he controls every room he enters. It’s like he has the power to make me come undone without even touching me. And yet, he’s caring in his own way. He’s thinking about me. He brought me food.

I reach for my laptop, trying to pull myself back together.

“I’ve got your results right here,” I say, keeping my eyes on my screen, trying to avoid looking up at him. I don’t know how to act around him right now. Should I be all business? Or should I show him how I missed him?

“You have a contusion on the iliac crest, usually caused by a hard blow. It’s very painful, but nothing’s broken, thankfully.” I keep talking, thankful to have a topic of discussion. But there’s another topic gnawing at me. I want to kiss him, feel him again, ask him if he missed me like I missed him.

“Yeah, Mathews told me,” he says, nodding at my screen. “Before he threw me out of the building and ordered me to take two weeks off.”

I glance at his hip, still covered by his black sweatpants, immediately remembering the last time I touched it, the feel of his muscles under my hands.

“Are you still in pain?” I ask, my voice quieter now.

“Pain’s almost gone,” he admits, stretching his long leg in front of him with a small smirk. “I have you to thank for breathing down my neck about it.” He says it like a joke, but there’s a soft, appreciative edge to his voice.

“Your coach and Dr. Mathews would’ve figured it out sooner or later,” I huff out a nervous laugh. “I can’t take the credit.”

“I’m giving it to you anyway,” he says with a playful smile.

There’s so much I want to say. So much I should say. But I still don’t know him enough to be certain he won’t pull away from me.

“Do you mind if I take a look to see how it's healing?” I ask, pushing my laptop away. The way he's looking at me, that intense, dark gaze, makes it harder to breathe, let alone think straight.

Ares nods his head slowly, that little smirk still tugging at his lips.

“Please do,” he says, his voice deep and smooth.

“You’ll have to pull your pants down,” I say before I can stop myself. I almost choke on my words. My face is on fire as I force myself to meet his eyes. I’m struggling to hold it together, biting my lips to keep the heat from crawling up my throat, but he sees it.

His eyes never leave mine as his lips curl into an amused smirk.

“How are you going to look at my hip from over there, little thing?” His voice is low, amused, and just so damn confident. “Come closer.” His tone makes my entire body tingle.

I try to control my breathing, but it’s almost impossible. I take a small step toward him, almost feeling drawn in by the pull of his presence. My thighs clench together in a reflex, and it only makes things worse.

I have to crane my neck to look up at him, and the way he looks down at me has my heart racing faster.

“Tell me what to do, doc.” Ares tilts his head, his gaze never leaving mine, and I realize he’s waiting for me to be the one to make the first move.

I smile, almost too coy. So be it.

“I need to see the area,” I reply, my voice steady but a little too shaky for someone trying to play confident.

He knows exactly what he’s doing. He wants me to take the lead. Wants to watch me come undone again—and I’m already halfway there.

I step closer, my fingers grazing his chest and brushing against his abs.

“Show me,” I murmur, my lips curving into something between a smile and a challenge.

His eyes lock on mine, but the shift is undeniable. His body tenses, his jaw tightening.

I slide my hand down his chest, my fingers trailing along his abs through the fabric, watching how his breath catches. I love watching him react to me.

Ares’ gaze darkens, but this time, it’s me taking in the sight of him, not him studying me. My heart pounds as my hands trace the outline of his muscles through his T-shirt.

His pupils flare, but he doesn’t stop me. Instead, he leans in, his voice low and teasing.

“I think you’re the one who wants to look, little thing.”

“I’m not so little,” I tease, my voice too steady for the heat rushing through me. “Now, show me,” I add, tugging on his shirt.

“Show you?” Without breaking his eye contact, he slowly starts lifting his shirt.

I can see the muscles in his abdomen, the way his abs flex as he lifts the fabric higher, and I’m paralyzed in place. He doesn’t stop, pulling the T-shirt up just enough to reveal the tattoos covering his chest. His entire torso is inked, the designs snaking across his skin, and I can’t look away.

God, how does he make something as simple as taking off a shirt feel like a damn weapon? He knows what he’s doing. And I know that he knows. This slow, torturous strip-tease? It’s all for me.

My breath stalls when he bites the hem of his shirt, keeping it up while he starts pulling down his sweatpants. My eyes are glued to the movement as he exposes the sharp V-line of his body, the lines of muscle that I know are just as dangerous as his stare. My pulse spikes, and my head is spinning with the sight of him. My entire body is aching for him.

I manage to look down at the fading bruise on his hip. It’s already looking so much better, but I’m too aware of him with so much of his body on display, and I feel like I’m suffocating in the desire he’s building in me.

I breathe out, letting my fingers brush the area. It’s gone from a deep purple to a fading pink, and I try to concentrate on the medical details, but it’s hard when he’s standing over me like this, his body demanding my attention. And I intend to give it all to him.

“It looks so much better,” I murmur, trying to sound like the professional I’m supposed to be. “I see the swelling has also gone down. The rest has done wonders.”

I wish I could be more clinical, more detached, but I can’t. Everything in me is screaming for him to touch me again.

I force myself to pull my hand away from his skin, but it’s like it’s been branded on me. Ares slowly releases his shirt from his teeth, letting it fall back over his stomach, but it’s still lifted just enough for me to see the shape of his abs. I try to look away but can’t stop my gaze from drifting back to him, my pulse racing.

“Are you sure?” he asks. And then, like the devil himself, he lifts his hand slowly, tracing his fingers up the side of my neck, over my jawline, until his thumb brushes my lip. I instinctively open my mouth, letting his thumb slip inside. And then I bite, my teeth clamping around his finger just past the first knuckle.

Ares inhales sharply, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. I love doing this to him, watching him react to me the same way I respond to him.

“No,” I murmur around his finger before letting go of it. “I think I need to get a closer look,” I add, my eyes flicking down and then back up to his. I would have never even thought of saying something so bold before. This is what he does to me, and I never want it to end. I like this version of myself. I like the fact that it’s for his eyes only.

Ares releases his bottom lip from his teeth with a wolfish smile. His hand travels down my neck until it settles in my hair at the back of my head. My breath catches in my throat as he pulls me closer, his touch possessive, demanding.

“I think so, too,” he murmurs, the words vibrating through my chest.

I snap my eyes up to his. My pulse races, my body reacting before my brain can process it. He doesn’t need to say anything more; the implication is there. It’s that deep, sure voice of his, the one that drags me to him and says “come here” without needing to say it.

Slowly, he presses his hand into the back of my head, gently guiding me down. My pulse skips, my body tingling with heat, as I realize what he’s asking me to do.

I glance at the door, suddenly remembering where we are. Anyone can walk in, but everything inside me wants this.

“Down,” he orders with the softest, deepest voice.

Oh my God.

My entire body trembles as he guides me to my knees. Raw, desperate need courses through me as I look up at him, my heart pounding, every part of me aching for him.

Ares stands over me with his hand on the back of my neck while I’m on my knees, my breath shallow. The heat between my legs is throbbing. It’s unbearable, this ache that he’s caused, and I know it’s only going to get worse the closer I get to him.

His smirk widens, and I see the hunger in his eyes. His hand releases my hair, but only to slide down, his fingers trailing slowly over my throat, feeling my pulse jump under his touch. The warmth of him is like fire, branding me. Everywhere he touches burns. I feel my body respond before my mind can stop it. I want him. I need him.

“So beautiful,” Ares murmurs, watching me closely, his voice a dark, seductive lullaby.

His fingers trail until they rest under my chin. He lifts my head with the slightest pressure, pulling me into his gaze. He leans down, and my breath hitches, desperate for him to close the distance. His thumb presses down on my chin, forcing my lips apart, and he brings his mouth to mine. I moan into it because I’ve missed the taste of him.

His kiss deepens, hardens, and suddenly, I’m drowning in him. I can feel the hunger in every stroke, every shift of his lips. His tongue brushes mine, and I’m lost. Every inch of me is on fire. I grab the hem of his shirt, tugging it down toward me. Ares groans, his grip tightening. I can feel his approval in the kiss. My hands move up his chest, exploring the hard lines of muscle under his shirt. I want him to lose himself in me, just like I’ve lost myself in him.

Ares deepens the kiss, his tongue brushing mine with slow strokes.

He pulls back a little, my lips hovering over his, and I can feel his breath, ragged and desperate.

“Did you miss me, little thing?” he murmurs, his lips brushing mine again, not kissing, just teasing. Torturing me.

“Did you miss me?” I challenge, my voice hoarse. My body screams for him, for his touch, for the way he makes me feel alive.

“More than you know,” he whispers before straightening and stepping back slightly, and I catch my breath. His eyes are still on me, never leaving me, as his fingers curl around the hair on the back of my head again. He pulls me back slightly, his fingers curling into my scalp, forcing me to look up at him.

“You wanted to see it better,” he says, his eyes dark and unrelenting. “Are my clothes in the way?”

He knows exactly what I want, what I crave, but he’s making me say it, beg for it. My eyes dart to the fading bruise peeking above the waistband of his sweats, and I swallow hard.

“Yes,” I choke out. “I have to take a better look,” I add, biting my lip at my own words. He’s pulling a version of me out that I didn’t even know was there.

And I can see the desire in his eyes. The cold satisfaction that comes from knowing he’s driving me to the edge.

With his left hand, he grabs the waistband of his boxers and slowly pulls them down.

Every muscle in my body tenses as I watch. I can see the outline of his cock through his sweatpants, huge and hard. My eyes are drawn to it, the sight of him making me feel hungry and desperate for it. My fingers are itching to reach up and do it faster. His grip on my hair never loosens, keeping me in place, forcing me to take in everything he gives me. He pulls on his waistband, and his cock springs free.

I suck in a sharp breath, my eyes widening as I take in the sight of him. He’s huge, thick, and long, veined and leaking precum already. My mouth waters, my tongue dying to find out what he tastes like.

I can’t look away. My whole body is alive with need, but I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know if I’m supposed to stroke him first or lick him, or a combination of the two.

His eyes hold mine as he pulls me closer, his cock brushing against my lips, teasing me with the mere idea of what’s to come.

“You missed it, didn’t you?” he asks, his fingers tightening in my hair. I nod, my throat too tight to speak. “Words, Irene,” he growls, and the command sends a jolt of heat straight to my core. My hand moves on its own, reaching for him, but he catches my wrist before I can touch.

I look up at him, knowing what he wants to hear.

“Yes,” I whisper. “I missed it so much.”

“Did you miss me?” he asks again, and this time, there’s no playfulness to his tone. He’s genuinely asking me if I missed him, not just his body. And the answer is simple.

“I did.” I nod once, and look up at him. “A lot.”

He hums, satisfied, and his hand slides from my hair to my throat, his thumb brushing against my pulse point.

“And I missed you,” he says. “A lot.” There’s something in his eyes that’s almost… pained. It makes me want to reach up and run my hand over his cheek, to bring him closer and show him what he means to me. But before I get the chance, he tucks himself back in his sweatpants, making me groan out in protest.

“Do you think it’s fair for me to be half-naked while you’re still fully dressed?” he asks, his tone deceptively soft. I shake my head, my breath coming in short pants.

“No,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

“Me neither,” he purrs, and my stomach clenches. “Unbutton your top.”

My hands shake as I reach for the top button of my blouse, fumbling with the tiny pearl. I manage to undo the first two, but I stop, my cheeks flaming. Without saying a word, he knows what I’m thinking.

“If I do it, I’ll rip the whole fucking thing off.” He chuckles. “So, unless you want to walk around with your tits out all day, you better do it yourself,” he adds, his voice a warning.

I nod, completely transfixed by the possessive edge in his tone. My fingers tremble as I undo the next button. His eyes burn into mine, watching every movement.

“That’s enough,” he says when I pop the third pearl. He reaches for me and tugs my bra down, freeing my breasts. I gasp, the cool air hitting my skin as he lets go of my bra, which only pushes my breasts up for him even more.

His eyes rake over me.

“Do you have any idea how stunning you are?” he asks, his thumb running over my bottom lip. “I wonder what Coach Brown would say if he walked in right now,” he asks, his voice teasing. My eyes widen, and I freeze, panic seizing me at the thought of my father seeing us. My head snaps towards the door. I can’t… my father would never look at me the same way again.

I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest.

Ares tilts his head to the side, his dark eyes gleaming and dangerous. He bends down and brushes his lips against my ear.

“Go ahead. Lock the door before someone walks in.” His breath is hot on my skin.

He straightens and steps back, nodding toward the door. I scramble to my feet, my legs weak and shaky. I hurry to it, fumbling with the lock until I hear the click that seals us in.

I turn back to him and freeze. He’s standing there, his stance wide, his gaze locked on me, and his cock back in his hand.

He looks devastating.

“Get back here.” He points his chin to the floor in front of him.

I swallow, my heart pounding as I walk toward him. When I reach him, I drop to my knees without hesitation, my body begging for whatever he has to give. His fingers tangle in my hair, holding me still with his left hand, and every inch of my skin prickles with need.

“You’ve never done this before?” he asks, brushing the head of his cock against my lips. I can feel the warmth of him, the slickness of his precum as he smears it across my mouth like lipstick.

“No,” I answer him truthfully, my voice barely a whisper.

“Should I teach you how to suck my cock, little thing?”

My cheeks burn, but I nod. He raises a dark brow, and I already know what he’s going to say, so I get ahead of him.

“Yes, please.” I use my words, just like he wants.

“A fast learner.” His grip on my hair tightens, and the tip of his cock presses more against my lips. My whole body shakes. I want this so bad it hurts. The heat, the hunger, it’s all crashing together in a desperate, aching need.

“Open,” he commands, and I part my lips. His thumb hooks around my bottom teeth and gently forces my jaw further down. “Taste it.” He slowly slides the head of his cock past my lips, and his thumb disappears, making room for him. A moan crawls up my throat, and my eyes flutter shut. Heat explodes deep in my core as I take him into my mouth, feeling the width, hot and hard. The salty taste explodes on my tongue. I feel another rush of heat between my thighs as he groans above me.

“Fuck,” he curses, his hand guiding my head as he starts to push in deeper. “I’ve imagined my dick in your mouth so many times.”

My response is a muffled moan around his cock. My hands instinctively fly up to his strong thighs, steadying me. My tongue presses against the underside of his shaft as he slides further into my mouth.

“That’s it. Take me deeper,” he praises, his voice rough. “I want to feel every fucking inch of that sweet mouth.”

He moves his hand from my hair to my neck, his fingers pressing lightly against my throat as he starts to thrust, shallow at first, but with each movement, he pushes deeper, his cock hitting closer to the back of my throat. My body is loving every second of the intrusion. I take more of him, using his thighs to pull myself forward, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. I can’t believe all of this was inside me.

“Relax your throat,” he commands, while pulling out of my mouth and sliding back in even deeper. “Now, suck me harder.”

I do as he says, forcing myself to breathe through my nose as he fucks my mouth, his movements speeding up but still controlled. His grip on my neck tightens, and he groans, the sound sending liquid fire between my thighs.

“Fuck, the things I’m gonna do to you if you keep sucking me like that,” he whispers, his voice strained.

His grip in my hair tightens enough to make my scalp sting, and a broken sound escapes me, vibrating around his cock. A low groan rumbles through him, and I feel him twitch in my mouth. I want to hear more; I want to make him moan. I angle my head down, trying to take more in.

His hand coils in my hair, guiding me back as he slides out, leaving just the tip resting on my tongue.

“You don’t get to gag on it,” he murmurs, voice low and commanding, “until I say so.”

I nod, or try to, his eyes locked on mine, dark and hungry.

“Now, open.”

I obey. My mouth stretches, and he fills me again—iron-hard, pulsing, and demanding.

“Good girl,” he rasps.

I hollow my cheeks, seal my lips around him, and suck, sliding my tongue underneath, and the sound he makes… Oh, God. It lights up in me. Makes me want to break every rule I’ve ever followed.

I moan around him, increasing my pace. “Christ,” he growls, “Do you want to choke on it, little thing?”

“Yes,” I pant, my body burning between my thighs, throbbing with every filthy word he says. Every rough tug on my hair, every command.

I’m not even thinking anymore; I’m just reacting. I want him to keep praising me. I want to taste his cum so bad, it’s dizzying.

He hums, his eyes blazing with need, and he pushes into my mouth, this time going deeper. His thumb drags across my bottom lip where it stretches around his cock, and he tilts my head just slightly.

“Take more of it. I want to see how deep you can go.”

I inhale through my nose and sink farther, letting him fill my mouth, sliding back until my throat tightens. I gag around him. My jaw hurts, but I want more. I want to try to take all of him.

He starts guiding my rhythm now, steadily thrusting into my mouth, using my hair to control the depth, pace, and angle.

My eyes water, and my mouth is messy. I can feel spit dripping down my chin, and I’ve never felt dirtier, more wanted.

“That’s it,” he growls, his voice wrecked. “You’re such a dirty girl, aren’t you? On your knees with your tits out, sucking my cock.”

The words make me spiral. I roll my tongue around his tip, and his body jolts.

"Christ," he grits out, his grip tightening as his cock twitches against my tongue. "You want it, don’t you? Want me to come in that pretty mouth… let you taste how bad I’ve needed you?"

I nod with hunger, my eyes wide and desperate.

I can feel my own arousal building, my pussy aching with need as he fucks my mouth, his cock hitting the back of my throat with each thrust. His hand moves from my neck to my cheek, his thumb brushing against my jaw as his movements become faster, more erratic.

His grip tightens in my hair like he’s right on the edge of snapping. His cock throbs against my tongue, his abs tense, his body straining. I can feel it in the way he twitches. The way his breath gets ragged. The way he mutters a low, “Fuck, don’t…stop,”

And I don’t stop. I suck harder, deeper, dragging my tongue along the underside of his shaft just like he told me to. I want to ruin him. I want him to fall apart because of me.

His hips jerk forward, making me gag a little, and he groans, deep and broken.

I let him hit the back of my throat, but I don’t pull away.

I want this. I want to feel every ounce of his pleasure. I want to taste what I’ve done to him.

His hands tighten, forcing me to look up at him, and God, the way he stares down at me while using my mouth to get himself off. His eyes are wild, jaw clenched and chest rising like he’s barely holding himself together.

I moan around him, starving for it, and dig my nails into his thighs.

And that’s it. He snaps.

With a brutal groan, he drives himself deep, holding my head still as his cock pulses. Hot cum spills on my mouth. I try to swallow around it, but there’s so much. He’s coming hard, panting and groaning my name. He holds me there, forcing me to take it all, and I do, my body trembling with the effort.

“Take every drop,” he rasps, not letting up, riding it out while his body tenses from the force of it. “Swallow it all like my good girl.”

His words have my thighs pressing together with need, the throbbing between my legs unbearable.

I swallow again, tears slipping down my cheeks, and I love it. Every dirty second of it.

When he finally pulls back, his cock slides from my lips with a soft, wet sound, and I’m left gasping.

He stares down at me, breathless. Ravaged.

“Fuck me,” he breaths in heavy, still trying to catch his breath. “That was incredible.”

He grabs my waist and drags me up off the floor. I stumble, and he catches me with one arm, the other already unbuttoning the rest of my top and tossing it to the floor.

“You did so good, little thing,” he says, spinning me around and leaning me forward. “But we’re not finished yet.”

My hands slam against the polished wood of my desk. Ares shoves papers and objects out of the way with one sweep of his arm.

“Bend over,” he says, and I obey before I can even think.

My breasts hit the cool surface, my ass in the air, legs shaking beneath me.

He moves behind me, fast and hungry. His fingers hook into my skirt and yank it down, my panties with it. I gasp as the air hits my soaked skin, every inch of me burning.

“Gorgeous,” he praises from behind. “Look at that wet little pussy”

A sharp slap lands on my ass, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to shock. I feel him drop to his knees behind me. His hands spread me open, and I try to twist away from how exposed I feel, but his grip is iron tight.

“I want to taste the mess you made for me.” And then he devours me from behind, his tongue stroking between my lips with devastating hunger. I moan, gripping the edge of the desk so hard my knuckles go white.

His mouth is merciless. His tongue slides inside me and then drags up to flick my clit in tight circles before plunging back down again.

He’s not gentle. He’s not sweet. He’s starving. And I’m already unraveling.

His tongue works me in unimaginable ways. His hands grip my ass, spreading me wider, pulling me closer to his mouth, and he moans into me like he’s addicted to the taste of me.

“Ares!” I gasp, voice broken.

His tongue flicks over my clit in tight, relentless strokes.

“Don’t stop. Please don’t stop,” I beg, my voice high-pitched.

“Let go,” he growls, sounding muffled against me. “I want to taste this little pussy when it comes for me.”

The orgasm rips through me like fire, my whole body convulsing, thighs shaking. I cry out, falling forward onto the desk, my cheek pressed against the cool surface as I sob out his name.

He doesn’t stop licking me until I twitch from oversensitivity. Then, finally, he pulls away.

I hear the soft sound of him standing, the low rustle of fabric. Then…warmth as he gently slides my skirt back over my hips, smoothing the fabric down with both palms. The contrast of his tenderness after what he just did makes me feel dizzy.

Then he leans in and presses a soft, tender kiss to my butt cheek.

I turn my head slightly, still breathless, still reeling.

He points to the side of the desk where the paper bag he brought sits innocently.

“Eat that,” he says.

My brows knit together, but I’m too gone to argue. He walks around me, towering over me, his expression unreadable.

“Don’t think I won’t come check,” he adds.

He tucks himself back into his sweatpants, and I already miss the sight of him.

He walks toward the door, unlocks it, and glances over his shoulder, “I’ll come get you when your shift ends. I want to take you somewhere special tonight.”

He gives me one of his cocky smirks before he opens the door and walks out without another word.

I slowly push myself up, and that’s when I realize…my panties are gone. He took them. Again!

That’s the third pair.

What the hell is he even doing with them?

I look at the paper bag full of food and the door he just walked out of.

And smile.