Page 29 of Ares


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Resting on his strong forearms, he leans down. “God isn’t going to make you come, baby…” His lip brushes my ear. “I am.”

One more powerful thrust and I unravel beneath him. And this time, it’s going to blow my mind even more.

My back arches and my nails dig into his muscular shoulders as he grinds hard into me.

But I’m not even here anymore.

I don’t know where I go.

I cease to exist.

Swept away by the storm.

Mind successfully blown.

He kisses me back to reality.

“I love hearing you come,” he mutters against my lips. “I love the way your pussy tightens against my cock.” I clench, and he groans. “Yeah, baby, just like that.”

High on dopamine and oxytocin, I ease up onto my elbows to watch his thick cock sliding in and out of me.

Over and over again.

But it becomes too much for my senses, and I fall back to let another orgasm consume me with its delicious, sweet heat. I lose myself in sensation after sensation as he goes on to give me one orgasm after another without showing any signs of coming himself.

My body is on overload. Thank the Almighty for not giving me a refractory period. Because just as I get over one orgasm, he conjures another with his magical cock.

This man has stamina.

“Get on your knees,” he commands, pulling out.

My legs are shaky, and my pussy throbs. I’ve come so many times I’ve lost count.

He guides me onto all fours.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful.” His voice is smooth. “Look at that pussy, so pink and tight.”

He notches his cock to me and eases in slowly, letting out a low groan. “You’re so fucking wet, baby. You know what that does to me? Feel how fucking hard your pussy has got me.” He thrusts in, deep and hard, and my head drops as pain collides with pleasure.

He continues to rock with a punishing rhythm, his cock so big it hits me in places no other cock has come close to touching. I grip the bedsheet and moan because no one has ever fucked me this good.

“Oh fuck, your pussy… you’re so fucking perfect…” Ares lets out an urgent growl and slows his pace. His hands grip my hips as his head falls back. “I’m going to come…”

Deliciously drunk on my post-orgasm highs, I watch over my shoulder as he pulls out and runs his palm up and down the thick shaft, unleashing a deep, primal groan as streams of cum rain down on my ass.

When he’s done, he eases down beside me, his rock-hard chest heaving. His eyes close, and his pulse races in his throat as he tries to catch his breath.

This isn’t what I came here for.

But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t exactly what I wanted.

He’s a killer, and it excites me.

So does the way he uses his cock and the orgasms he gives me.

I want more, and anything else can wait until I get my fill.

I’m selfish that way.

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