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“Oh God, Ares ...” I whimper, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I surrender to the intense sensations coursing through my body.

He pauses only for a moment, his breath hot against my thigh, before murmuring, “Lasciati andare, bambina. Ti tengo. Let me watch you come apart for me. Come for me, baby.”

His words and the way his tongue circles and flicks against my clit sends me spiralling over the edge.

My orgasm rips through me, a storm surge that leaves me shivering and gasping for breath.

His grip on me tightens, his mouth never ceasing its delicious torment until I'm a boneless, sated mess beneath him.

He slowly lowers my legs, his body sliding up mine, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

“I haven’t tasted something as sweet and sinful as you in a very long time.

” he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire.

“You taste like sin, bambina… and now that I’ve had you, I don’t think I’ll ever want anything else.

” I can feel him, hard and ready, pressing against my thigh.

My body, still humming with pleasure, responds eagerly to his proximity.

I reach up, my hands cupping his face, pulling him down to me.

Our lips meet in a fierce, hungry kiss. I can taste myself on him, and it sends another jolt of desire pulsing through me.

His hands roam over my body, igniting little fires everywhere he touches.

His lips find mine again, slower this time, no rush, no demand.

Just heat. Intention. The kind of kiss that says stay right here, I’m not finished with you yet.

His mouth breaks away from mine only to trail soft, aching kisses down my jaw. My skin is still tingling, oversensitive, and every brush of his lips makes me gasp.

Then his voice, low, hoarse, right against my mouth.

“You should see yourself, bambina…” He pulls back just enough for our eyes to lock, his thumb grazing my bottom lip as his chest rises hard against mine.

“Così dannatamente perfetta.” So damn perfect.

I swallow, throat tight, but he keeps going, his voice a rasp, thick with something raw and unsteady. “I could watch you fall apart for me a thousand times and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

My heart stutters.

There’s something in the way he says it, like he’s not just talking about sex. Like he’s talking about me. About needing all of me, over and over, until I’m etched into every piece of him.

His forehead presses to mine, his breath ragged. I can feel the way he’s holding himself back, his muscles straining, his body trembling with restraint. He could take me now. He wants to. Every part of him screams for it.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he draws in a shuddering breath, his weight still balanced on his forearms, his lips brushing softly against my temple.

He’s ready to stop.

To protect me. To give me space.

But I don’t want space.

I want him.

My legs move before I can second-guess the impulse, slow, deliberate.

I wrap them around his waist, locking him in place.

I feel the exact moment his breath catches, feel the sharp tension that coils through his body as I press him flush against me.

His cock nudges at my entrance, hard and unbearably warm, and I can’t help the way my body responds, arching, greedy, aching.

A deep, guttural sound breaks from his throat, half warning, half plea.

“Jordyn…”

My name is a growl on his tongue. Low and frayed. Like it’s costing him everything not to move.

Everything inside me clenches in longing. In absolute certainty.

I tilt my hips just enough to make him feel it, how ready I am. How much I need this. Need him.

And I whisper, barely above the sound of our shared breath

“Don’t stop.”

His body goes rigid above me, every muscle tight, every breath jagged. He’s trying to pull back, to be the man who protects instead of takes. But I feel him. I feel everything .

His chest heaves against mine. A muscle flickers in his neck, barely visible.

He’s trying to be good.

But I don’t want good . I want him , the real him. The man who kissed me like he was starving. The one who shattered in my hands. The one who makes me feel like I belong to something for the first time in my life.

“Jordyn… don’t. Don’t do that.” He grits the words out like they hurt. “If I move… if I give in now, I won’t stop.”

I wrap my legs tighter around him, hips rising with aching purpose, grinding myself slowly along the length of him. The sound he makes, deep, guttural, is pure devastation. His head drops, forehead brushing against mine like he’s begging for strength.

I don’t want him to be strong.

Not with me.

“Ti voglio dentro di me,” I whisper, my lips brushing his jaw.

I want you inside me.

His breath judders. His fingers fist the bed sheets. His entire body jerks like the words physically broke something inside him. “Voglio te. Tutto di te.”

I want you. All of you. I add, my lips brushing his with every deliberate word. My Italian still isn’t great, but he seems to understand, because he lets out a growl.

“Cristo, Bambina?—”

I lift my hips again, desperate now, my body open and trembling beneath him.

“You think it’s what you want right now, but you’ll regret it.” His voice is rough, like it hurts him to say it. Like he’s trying to give me one last out.

But I don’t want out.

I shake my head; my eyes locked on his. My voice is barely a breath, but it carries everything I feel.

“I’ll regret it if I don’t.” I reach up, brushing my fingertips over his cheek. “I know what I’m asking… and I know I want you .”

His eyes flare, dark, intense, burning with something wild and unspoken.

It hits me like a current, stealing the air from my lungs.

Ares presses his forehead to mine, his voice low and trembling.

“Are you absolutely certain, Jordyn?” he whispers, as his nose brushes against mine, a gentle sweep that feels like a question and a prayer all at once.

“More than I have ever been,” I whisper.

And then, finally , he breaks.

His lips brush mine again, softly before he pulls back just far enough to see me, his hand cupping my face like I’m something breakable.

“Bambina…” he says, his voice low, steady, and raw. “It’s going to hurt. I’ll be as gentle as I can, but, if it’s too much, if you change your mind… you tell me, and I stop.”

I nod, my heart thundering in my chest. “Okay.”

But he shakes his head, his eyes locked on mine. “No. I need to hear it.”

I hold his gaze, completely open, breathless but grounded. “If I need you to stop, I’ll tell you. I promise.”

Ares exhales slowly, something in him releasing and I feel him visibly relax, not completely, but enough.

Then he leans down and brushes a tender kiss to my lips before reaching with one hand to the drawer beside the bed and pulls out a small foil packet, and I swallow a gasp, from the sudden, quiet intimacy of it.

Ares tears it open with his teeth, his gaze never leaving mine. “I’m not risking anything when it comes to you,” he murmurs, his voice a warm, low caress that sends shivers up my spine.

Engulfed in the heat of the moment, I realise that protection had slipped my mind entirely, but once again, his attention to detail tames the chaos warring in me.

I watch, my heart racing, as he rolls it on, his movements practised, but unhurried.

I don’t know why, but there’s an unexpected beauty in the ritual, a silent acknowledgement of care and respect, that transforms the simple act into something so attractive.

And then he settles between my thighs again, his hand returning to my cheek.

His body lowers onto mine, warm and solid, every inch of him pressed to me as his hand skims the curve of my hip, then down between my thighs.

He touches me gently at first, coaxing my legs wider, drawing soft sounds from my lips as he explores me, patient, thorough, regardful. When he finally presses himself up against my entrance, I feel the thick pressure of him, hot and demanding.

But still, he pauses.

His eyes search mine again, his thumb stroking my cheek. “Breathe, bambina. Keep your eyes on mine.” I nod mutely. “Are you ready?”

I nod again, and this time, he moves.

Slow, careful and controlled despite the hunger roaring in his dark eyes.

There’s a sharp sting that steals the breath right out of my lungs. It’s uncomfortable, but not too painful that it’s unbearable. It’s pressure and stretch and the dizzying, overwhelming feeling of being completely filled.

Ares groans and buries his face against my neck as he sinks deeper into me, inch by delicious inch. “You’re so tight, Jordyn… fuck .”

He stills once he’s fully inside me, holding himself there to give me time to adjust to his size. His lips find my temple. “Talk to me, baby. Are you okay?”

I breathe through it, adjusting to the feeling of him, of us . I nod, threading my fingers through his hair.

“It’s a lot,” I whisper. “But I don’t want you to stop.”

And that’s all he needs.

He starts to move with slow, rolling thrusts that build heat and melts the ache into something sweeter, deeper. With every breath, with every touch, it becomes less about pain and more about connection. About being unravelled piece by piece in his hands.

I cling to him like I never want to let go. Because in this moment, wrapped around him, completely bare, I don’t .

The sensation of Ares’s lips and tongue gliding along the column of my neck is electrifying, each touch setting my skin ablaze, while he moves within me in slow, deliberate thrusts that leave me mewling beneath him.

As the initial pressure and sting gradually fades, it feels as though I've been left breathless, suspended in a moment of pure euphoria.

The all-consuming pleasure courses through my veins like wildfire, a sensation beyond anything I could have ever imagined.

And fuck, I want more.