But the second every other distraction is gone, it’s just us, the silence pierced by the sound of our beating hearts, the pull of our bodies that’s too loud to ignore.
I lower onto him—slow, too slow, painfully slow, watching the anticipation in Ares’ eyes confirm it. He might not say anything, but the way his jaw tightens and his pupils flare tells me everything I need to know.
I gasp as my pussy swallows another piercing, then another, and my back arches. And another, and I close my eyes. I might not have liked sex before, but I’m starting to think I’m turning into a nympho around him.
And another, and I lean back, grabbing his legs for support. Another, and I watch him, his eyes no longer able to feign indifference, now focused on the sheer piece of lingerie he bought me.
Then the last one, my nails digging into his skin as I hear him groan, feeling the tightness, the grasping sensation that claims him entirely. The hold so maddening for both of us, the sensation spreading like a drug in every cell.
My mind wanders for a second—maybe my soul as well, the feeling of us united so complex I can’t even describe. A few moments later, I’m still trying to get a grip on reality like the damn thing ran off the second I got on top of him.
My hips are governed by pure craving, but I don’t rush. It’s one of the few moments where the outside world stops, leaving just the two of us, and I want to make it last as long as possible. In fact, I don’t think I ever want to stop.
It’s as if Ares understands the unspoken need ruling my body. He doesn’t make any hasty gestures or try to take control. He just lets me claim whatever I want from him.
Still, as much as I revel in the feeling of being so full, it’s never enough. I’m not even referring to my body. My body is one step away from breaking, disintegrating on top of him. I mean, I can’t get enough of him. No matter what I do. No matter how badly I know I should stay away.
Just as I lose myself in the storm of our connection, a jolt of pain shoots up my thigh when my knee hits the mattress. My damn leg is giving me trouble again.
I shift my weight so I can keep moving. I think I could be dying right now, and I still wouldn’t stop arching against him.
It’s only then that he reacts, his hands grabbing my hips, helping me lift myself. His grip strong enough to take away the pain, yet light enough so I can still move freely. That’s exactly what I do, swirl after swirl, motion by motion, groan after groan.
Truth is, I'm expecting him to say something stupid, like I can’t help myself when it comes tohis out of this world cock, or who knows what to boost his manly ego. Instead, he stays quiet,only the sounds of his harsh breath every time he bottoms out in me, where I can feel him in the pit of my stomach.
All of a sudden, he lifts himself higher on the bed until his back presses on the headboard and the distance between our lips is impossibly small. I don’t waste time eating up that space. My arms wrap around his broad neck. A few of his braids tickle my shoulders as I kiss him hard. Hard enough for him to feel that I mean it. Hard enough to matter.
My breasts press against his chest, my lips join with his, and my pussy swallows him whole like a greedy vice, clamping over and over again around him, as I ride him through an orgasm so intense that both of us tremble as I feel the warm result of his release, filling me up.
The night could stretch on for hours. It wouldn’t have been the first time that happened. But this wasn’t about sex. It was about something deeper, an undeniable connection.
I think that’s what makes Ares hold onto my hips, anchoring me in place and keeping me from moving off him. Not even as I fall asleep on his chest, his arms wrapped around my back, his heart like a lullaby beneath me.
But deep down, I am a warrior like him. I don’t need lullabies. I need a song of war.
The dawn brings me exactly that. The thought of stopping my search for Elias' killers never crossed my mind.
Still, I didn’t just sleep with Ares to soften him into helping me. It was about so much more, and I know he won’t let me off easy just because I played the nice girl for a night.
So I guess it’s safe to say it’s gonna be a tough morning.
twelve
-Brynn-
I try to get off of Ares… and implicitly get him out from inside me, but he just mutters ano,tightening his grip around my back to keep me on top of him for another hour. That’s how long it takes him to finally wake up and let me escape from the dick prison. Not that I complain. I’d likely be one of those prisoners who, the second they’re released, go do something stupid just to end up behind bars again.
Ares still doesn’t play nice and barely acknowledges my presence for the rest of the morning while he’s working from his home study. I know he’s still angry with me. He’ll be angry for a long time, and I’m ready to face the consequences. I have a feeling I might even enjoy some of them more than intended.
Still, I’m starting to feel like a damn cat in a cage. I can’t stand still for a second, not even long enough to enjoy our late breakfast or taste the spread laid out on the counter. Even if the damn thing looks like it’s something out of an all-inclusive resort. A maid came earlier and set up everything. I’m so restless that I even offered to help, even though house chores are one of my biggest nightmares. I mean, I do them, but don’t enjoy it.Besides, I’m not good at arranging things either. You can say my main specialty is organized chaos.
Ares stays focused on his phone, staring at the screen, like his life depends on it. But no matter how badly he controls himself, not even he can ignore me for that long, considering I’m about to burn a hole through the floor.
“What?” he mutters, keeping the same pissed-off tone. I guess the peace is over, and I’m heading straight into the battlefield.
Though cautiously this time. “Nothing,” I answer, in a not-so-convincing voice. I don’t want to blurt everything out. I’m not even sure I want to tell him how restless I am to get to the real killer because I’m afraid he’ll handcuff me to the radiator again. Probably for the rest of my life.
“Fucking shit, Brynn,” he says, tapping his fingers against the counter like it’s a nervous tell. “You really have a death wish, don’t you?”
