Page 21

Chapter twenty-one

~IRENE~

My body goes still, my heart sinking. My breath catches in my throat like a noose pulled tight.

He knows.

His mouth is still against my skin, but my soul has left the building. My brain is static, and my chest collapses around itself like a dying star. I try to speak, but nothing comes out. My lips part uselessly, my thoughts splintering into chaos.

The boy I grew up hearing about. The reason I went into this line of work. The reason I believe in second chances. The reason I believe in Ares . Is him.

And now, he’s on top of me, and his mouth is trailing fire along my throat.

He’s known. He’d probably pieced it together that night in Florida. And I still kept it from him, because of my own fear that he’d shut me out if he knew. But he’s known, and he still took me to his beach house, told me he wanted to be close to me, and opened up to me about his past.

God, I’m so stupid. I should’ve told him.

My throat closes, and my chest aches like it’s caving in on itself, folding under the weight of realization, shock, and guilt.

I push at his chest, but it’s not to get him off me, it’s to make him stop so I can explain without his touch making every second a battle between guilt and pleasure. I want to explain and tell him everything.

He lifts his head, eyes locking on mine.

“You wanted to keep this from me?” he asks, his voice low. His expression is not cruel or angry; it’s hurt. There’s pain in his eyes, disappointment and betrayal, and it breaks my heart.

He’s letting the silence burn through me, waiting to see what I do with it. My lips part, but nothing comes out. My voice won’t work; my brain won’t connect.

I don’t know what to focus on. His face? His mouth? At his hand trailing a path between my legs?

“You’re…him,” I finally breathe, as his fingers slide my new panties aside, agonizingly slow. He drags his fingers over my bare pussy, and I gasp, my head falling back against the cushions.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to figure it out,” he says, working his fingers to spread my arousal around. I arch into his touch, trying to voice all the things in my head.

He trusted me with his pain, with his past, and gave me a chance to tell him who I am, and I didn’t. I opened myself to him in every way but that.

He’s looking at me like he’s been waiting for this moment, like the game is over and it’s time to collect.

My hands scramble for something to hold onto—his shirt, his skin, anything—because my entire world is shaking beneath me. I finally clutch at his shirt in both fists like it’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

“I wanted to tell you,” I moan out, feeling his fingers slide inside me. It’s all I can say before I’m a moaning mess again.

“You didn’t,” he bites out, his fingers curling inside me like a warning. “You kept me in the dark.”

My legs tremble around him. My body tightens, pleasure clashing with guilt. I don’t know how I’m still soaking wet for him even as my chest caves in with guilt.

I try to sit up, to say more, to explain , but he presses his palm flat against my stomach, keeping me pinned beneath him.

“No,” he murmurs. “Stay still.”

His fingers move again, deeper and faster. My legs tremble, and my body clenches around him, tight and high with need. But my heart aches, heavy with the weight of what I did to him. I made him feel like he’s a dirty secret, someone not worth loving openly. And I know I did it all from fear of losing him. I have to make him see it.

“You don’t get to run from this.” He pumps his fingers in and out while his thumb rubs quick circles around my clit.

I cry out, my head falling back, the pleasure crashing into me like a wave against stone.

“I’m sorry,” I choke out, legs shaking, heat pooling.

He studies me like he’s trying to decide what kind of punishment fits this betrayal. He leans down, his mouth brushing my ear. “What should I do to you for keeping this from me, Irene?”

He starts to move his fingers in a deep, steady in-and-out rhythm, pulling me closer with his other hand. My skirt rides higher, and my legs part automatically to adjust around him.

“Should I be gentle with liars?” he murmurs.

I whimper, feeling every second of it, the press of his massive body over mine and the relentless torment between my legs.

“I was going to tell you,” I whisper again, the words tumbling past my lips like a prayer. “I swear…”

His fingers rub slow circles around my clit again, and I writhe, desperate for more, for him, for a second to explain, but he doesn’t stop.

“Is that all I am to you?” His tone is razor-sharp. “Just a secret? A thrill you’ll get tired of?”

I gasp, shaking my head. “No-No, Ares, that’s not—”

“Are you ashamed of me?” His fingers curl inside me, hitting that spot that makes my eyes roll.

“No!” I cry out, choking on the word.

Is this what he thinks? That I’m embarrassed to be with him?

I was scared you would shut me out. I want to say it, but the second I open my mouth again, he moves faster.

“Should I fuck the truth out of you?” he whispers harshly.

I gasp, my hips twitching toward his hand, but he doesn’t let me have it.

He pulls back just enough to look down at me, his lips brushing mine.

My body is shaking, my hands clutching his shoulders, my back arching off the couch.

His lips are at my neck now, biting and sucking like it’s the last time he gets to taste me. Because in his head, I think he believes it is.

“You let me give you all of me,” he breathes, his voice wrecked, furious, and low, “and you couldn’t even give me your last fucking name.”

“Please,” I choke on a moan, but he kisses it out of me.

I don’t even know what I’m begging for anymore. Forgiveness, redemption, ruin? All of them?

“No more secrets, Irene. No more hiding,” he growls, his fingers pumping in deep, merciless strokes. “I want the truth between us. Always.”

God help me, I want that, too. I don’t want to hide from him. I don’t want to hide us.

I arch into his touch, my head falling back—until his hand grips my jaw, dragging my gaze back to his.

“But you don’t get to lie and come easy,” he murmurs, his voice like dark silk. “You need to learn what honesty costs. And do you know what liars don’t get?” he rasps, dragging my skirt up and baring me completely.

I whimper as he pulls his fingers out of me and grabs my waist, flipping me onto my stomach, pressing me into the cushions. His body hovers over mine, solid and overwhelming.

“Mercy.”

His hand lands on my butt, hard enough to sting. But then he soothes the sting with a palm drag so slow it makes me tremble.

I hear him unzip his pants behind me, and my walls tighten in anticipation. I want him so bad it hurts. I want to show him I’m staying, that I’m not going anywhere. I want to lose myself in him and explain.

I turn my head to look back at him, but he presses a hand between my shoulder blades and pins me down.

“Say it,” he growls, his voice rough with restraint. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t tell you,” I whimper, hips twitching toward him.

He slides the thick head of his cock between my lips and slowly pushes into me. My moans mix with his groan into a twisted cocktail of pleasure and guilt.

The stretch, fullness, and sheer depth make my mind go hazy.

“What didn’t you tell me?” he snarls, pulling out halfway.

“Who I am,” I gasp as he slides back in, his left hand gripping my hip. He starts thrusting harder now, every word, every admission driving him deeper. His hand wraps around my throat, pulling me up until my back is against his chest. His cock is still inside me, dragging me into every thrust.

“And who are you, Irene?” he growls against my ear, and I say the first thing that comes to me.

“Yours.”

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath and bites down on my shoulder, not hard—possessive.

I’m gone, completely his. His hand finds my clit and rubs tight, punishing circles as he pumps his cock in and out of me. I can feel the thick head poking against that sensitive spot each time he pushes in.

“Should I make sure you don’t forget it?”

I nod desperately, instinctively lifting my hands to bury them in his hair.

His grip tightens around my throat, his cock hammering into me like he’s marking me from the inside out.

His fingers pick up the pace on my clit until I’m overcome with so much pleasure that I come. Hard.

I scream his name, convulsing around him, hands pulling him closer by his hair. My body gives out, my head falling back against his shoulder. The waves of pleasure wash over my body with each slow thrust of his hips, each push of his cock deeper inside me, drawing it out until I have nothing left to give.

Slowly, he lets go of my throat, and I almost collapse against the cushions. His arm wraps around my waist, holding me up.

He pulls out of me and flips me onto my back again like I’m weightless. He leans over me, holding himself up with his left hand, his right one brushing a strand of hair away from my face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he rasps out. His eyes are wild and focused like a storm aimed straight at me.

I try to speak, but no words come. I’m completely spent.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He spreads my legs open and drops to his knees in front of the couch like I’m an altar he’s about to desecrate.

And just like that, I realize what he’s doing. He wants to punish me with pleasure.

Oh my God.

He wraps his arms around the back of my legs and pulls my butt to the edge of the couch.

“Ares, please—”

He cuts me off by covering my clit with his mouth, pulling a desperate shriek out of me. My body arches into his touch, begging for more but unsure if I can take it.

His tongue works with greedy precision, like he’s starved and I’m the only thing that can satisfy the craving. He grabs my wrists and pins them down above my hips, locking me in place.

“Take it,” he growls against my pussy.

“I…I can’t,” I pant, shaking my head from side to side, yet my hips lift to meet every single lap of his tongue.

“You will .”

His tongue drags flat and slow over my clit, and I jerk. I lift my legs and wrap them around his neck, pulling him closer against me. I’ve caged him in.

His mouth doesn’t stop, and he chuckles against my clit, sending vibrations up my core.

“You’ll take everything I give you,” he murmurs, his hot breath caressing my lips.

“Oh my God, Ares!” My thighs are shaking violently, yet my legs are still pulling him closer.

He groans and takes my clit between his lips and sucks on it. He curls his tongue exactly right, and I break apart again, screaming, clenching, and soaking his mouth. It feels like he’s programmed me to come undone for him whenever he wants.

And still, he doesn’t stop. He licks me through it, like he’s milking my guilt from between my legs.

My voice is gone, and so is my mind. My body isn’t mine anymore; it’s his. Every nerve ending belongs to him.

“ Please, ” I beg, writhing with my legs still locked around his strong neck. He looks up at me, his black hair falling over light blue eyes, mouth raw and glistening with my arousal, heavy brows giving him an even more menacing look. He looks like a dark god brought to his knees.

“One more,” he says, kissing the inside of my thigh.

I’m limp, breathing like I just ran from death and didn’t make it out alive.

My throat is raw from moaning, my vision’s blurred, and my body is wrecked.

“You’ve got one more in you.”

I shake my head, yet the pleasure coils inside me again, my body insatiable when it comes to him.

My hands are useless, still pinned to my sides.

“You’re taking it so well,” he praises, spreading me open again. “Is this the only thing I’m good for, Irene? Giving you orgasms, giving you the broken piece of myself, and getting nothing but distrust back? Is this my only place in your life?”

There’s pain in his voice—sharp, unguarded—but there’s devotion, too. And he’s still here. Still looking at me like I’m something he’d set fire to the world for. I want to sit up, wrap my arms around him, and pull him against me. I want to tell him how all these things aren’t true, but my body is so spent, the only thing I can do is surrender to his pleasure punishment.

He lines himself up, strokes the head of his cock through the mess he’s made of me—slick, swollen, pulsing—and I shudder at the contact alone.

Then he pushes in, burying himself inside me. I watch the thick length of him stretch me again, feeling my body tighten around every inch. I watch the way I take him—completely—and it’s the filthiest, most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

He grabs my hips and starts moving—long, possessive thrusts that grow rougher by the second.

Then his hands slide up, bracing both sides of my head, arms locking around me as he drives deeper.

Each thrust is a vow. A confession. Raw and wrecking.

I cry out, my body convulsing around him again. My orgasm hits, blinding and violent, my vision going white as I splinter. He keeps moving, dragging every ounce of pleasure from my overstimulated body.

I’m clinging to him, still moaning, still riding the high of everything—his truth, my lies, the punishment, the forgiveness I know he’s giving me with every thrust.

He groans low and guttural, then yanks out at the last second. A thick, hot rush coats my belly, my thighs—his release spilling out of him as he collapses over me, still bracing his weight.

We’re both panting and shaking. I turn my head and find his eyes—wild and worshiping. He kisses me, and I melt into it.

He pulls back, lips brushing my ear.

I’m sticky with him, aching in places I didn’t know could ache. And still…I feel safe. Here. In his arms. In this place, that’s not mine, but somehow, feels like home.

“I wanted to tell you…” My eyes flutter open, my voice barely a breath.

His lips press to mine again. He tastes like mint, whiskey, and the ghost of me still lingering on his tongue. His thumb drags along my cheek.

“I love your light, Irene,” he whispers against my lips, his forehead pressed against mine. “Please don’t keep me in the dark again.”