Page 71 of Reverence

The pain seared through me as I whimpered loudly, but the sounds leaving my lips were muffled by the pillow.

Ares groaned, filling me halfway. “Shit, you’re tight.” He inched in slowly, providing me with a little bit more until the fullness had me clawing at the sheets.

My entire body burned, hot sticky heat dripping through my bloodstream.

Then he pulled out and his movements came to a complete halt. I gripped the sheets tightly, breathing through my nose. “Amala.” He said huskily.

I didn’t respond, didn’t make a sound.

He bunched my hair into a ponytail, pulling my head up until our bodies were flush against each other.

“Don’t tell me you’re a fucking virgin.” He whispered into my ear. I gulped softly, the tears streaming down my cheeks.

“I’m not.” I lied.

He gripped my jaw, forcing me to look at us in the mirror. “Christ, Amala.” He sighed, wiping my tears away.

“Don’t do that.” I released a soft breath. “Don’t go easy on me now, Valiente.”

“You want me to fuck you rough? Is that it?” He murmured, moving my head sideways.

I nodded, holding onto his arms. “No.” He deadpanned. “Get on your back.”

I furrowed my brows, wanting to look at him but he quickly pushed my head to the front so we were looking at each other in the mirror. “Hurry.”

The look in his eyes resembled one of a deranged man, a man holding on by a loose thread. I obliged, wincing when I moved to switch positions.

He spread my legs slowly, placing both of his palms on either side of my head. “Just so you know, I’m not going to be rough with you. I shouldn’t even be fucking you at all but your blood is covering my cock right now and I want you to know what that means.”

He slowly pushed back inside of me, and it still hurt badly.

He kissed me in my neck, whispering sweet nothings. “What does it mean?” I moaned softly, digging my nails into his back.

“It means,” He pulled out, only to slowly enter me again making me whimper as he panted in my ear. “That you now belong to me.”

He stilled, resting his forehead on mine.

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me?” He whispered, slowly rolling his hips. Torturously slow.

The tears streamed down the sides of my face as I gaped at him, scratching along his back muscles—earning me a sharp intake of breath from him.

“Did you think—” I couldn’t finish my sentence.

“What?” He hissed, moving slowly. “Did I think what?” His breath fanned my cheeks.

“That I was a whore?” He froze, his broad, firm chest pressed against mine.

“The urge to fuck you senseless right now is overwhelming, especially after that bullshit you just spat.”

He groaned. “God. You frustrate me. You drive me mad.”

“Why?” I tossed my head back, feeling the pain spread through me like wildfire.

“I shouldn’t have been your first, Amala. What have you done?”

He still hadn’t moved and I clung to him, desperate for him to manhandle me.

He was being too gentle for my liking and I hated every second of it because that implied that he cared.