Page 64

My hips start to rock in a matching rhythm with his thrusts. I hear Ares moaning into my neck before he pulls back, just enough to look down into my flushed face.

His eyes meet mine, dark, heavy, searching, and for a second, everything slows. There’s something unspoken in the look he gives me. Not just lust. It’s more than just need. Like this is more than just sex, and we both know it.

Then he shifts his hips, pushes in deeper, and I can’t hold back the sound that tears from my throat. My fingers clutch at his back, nails digging in as I gasp. He’s everywhere, in me, over me, around me, and I can barely catch my breath.

“Good?” he pants between thrusts, and I nod.

“Yes,” I whimper, breathless. “so fucking good ...”

We’re a mess of heat and skin and need. His rhythm picks up, every thrust rougher, more desperate. The air between us turns thick and hot, and all I can hear is our breathing, our bodies, the soft slap of skin and the sounds that escape my lips before I can swallow them down.

I wrap my legs around his waist, holding him closer, drawing him deeper. I don’t want space between us. I want all of him. Every ragged breath, every broken sound. I want it all.

Ares finds my hand and laces our fingers together, squeezing tight. That small, simple touch nearly undoes me.

My body is shaking. My head is spinning. I can feel the pressure building fast, too fast, coiling low and hard and unstoppable. I look up at him, and his face is tight with focus, like he’s barely holding on. His name tumbles from my lips, a whisper that sounds like a plea. “ Ares ...”

“Cazzo, bambina,” Ares growls, pressing his forehead to mine. “Mi stai facendo impazzire.” Fuck, baby, you’re making me crazy.

He’s shaking, every inch of him straining to be gentle, to not break me even though I can feel how close he is to the edge.

I tip my head back and kiss him, soft, hungry, aching. My lips barely leave his when I whisper, “Let go, Ares. I can take it.”

His breath hitches, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he holds still, trembling with restraint. His hand tightens around mine, and he presses deeper, grinding against me until I gasp.

“No,” he groans, voice frayed at the edges. He kisses me again, quick and shaky. “You’re not ready… not yet.”

And then he moves.

Still kissing me, he releases my hand and shifts, sitting upright with practised strength, his arms wrapping around me.

In one swift motion, I’m in his lap, straddling him, chest to chest, our slick bodies sliding against each other.

In this position he feels even bigger, deeper and it catches my breath.

His hands grip my hips, steady and commanding. “Rock your hips.” Then, quieter, gritted and full of heat he adds , “Scopami.”

I don’t hesitate. I just move.

It’s a little awkward at first, my movements hesitant, uncertain, but the moment I shift forward and that hot, electric jolt of pleasure spikes through me, I suck in a breath and do it again. And again.

Ares watches me, eyes fixed on mine, his chest rising and falling as he lets me find the rhythm. His hands never leave my hips, guiding me, grounding me, owning me without taking over.

My head drops to his shoulder, lips parting on a moan. “Oh God…”

His grip tightens, voice a growl against my ear. “You’re mine, Jordyn, mine. Do you feel that?” He thrusts up into me, slow but deep, sending another gasp tumbling from my lips. “How good we fit together. No one else gets this. No one else gets you .”

One hand stays locked on my hip, guiding my rhythm, while the other tangles in my hair, tugging just enough to drag my mouth back to his. He kisses me hard, filthy, claiming, nothing soft about it. It’s not a question. It’s not a request.

It’s a statement.

Ares doesn’t need to say I’m his, he shows it. With his body. With every thrust. Every sound torn from his throat. With the way he devours me like he’s starving and I’m the only thing that’s ever fed him.

And just like that, whatever softness there was between us shatters.

All that’s left is heat. Urgency and raw need.

My body arches, a scream breaking free as pleasure rips through me. I can’t think. Can’t breathe. I just feel waves crashing over me, pulling me under.

Ares isn’t far behind. He groans my name, his body jerking against mine as he comes, burying his face in my neck. I feel the tension snap through him, feel him fall apart in my arms.

Then he’s still.

I stay curled in his lap, my knees tucked against his hips, chest pressed to his as we both try to catch our breath. His arms are still around me, tight, steady, like if he lets go, I might fall apart.

We’re both shaking. Dripping with sweat. Messy. And completely quiet.

His forehead rests against mine, our breaths coming fast and uneven, basking in the afterglow of our release. One of his hands is still gripping waist while the other resting at my nape.

I turn my head and bury my face in his neck. Breathing him in. He smells like heat, soap and something I didn’t realise I needed until now. Something that makes my chest ache.

I don’t say anything and neither does he. Just presses soft kisses along my shoulder while our bodies calm and our breathing evens.

Whatever that just was… it wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t just heat or lust or release of the tension lingering between us.

It was us . Raw and real.

And somehow, that makes it feel even bigger and so much more terrifying.