~ Ava

 

It had all been going so well. At the very least, Ares and I were having a conversation without a blanket of sexual tension stretched taut between us. Considering how the past week had gone, the last thing I expected was for him to go easy on me, but he surprised me.

Which was, perhaps, why I now contemplated telling him what he wanted to know.

It was all very confusing. At least, for me. Ares probably knew exactly what he was doing, if all the smug orders he gave me were any indication. My mother and sister always liked to tell me I was timid—that I didn’t assert myself enough. I always wanted to prove them wrong but this... this was something entirely different.

Ares orders weren’t challenging my authority as his publicist—at least, no more than usual. Every time he ordered me to do something, there was something inside me that flickered.

Ignited.

At first, I fought it. I knew full well the man was the devil and I didn’t want to be in his clutches. At least, I didn’t when I had my wits about me. But there was something in his demeanor. The way he stood over me when we were together—the way his eyes met mine and all but demanded that I submit... I wanted to give into it. By all that was holy, I wanted to lay the entirety of my being, slathering, at the man’s feet.

It scared the ever-loving hell out of me. Even as I fell into the habit of doing as he told me with little to no hesitation, I wondered if there wasn’t something wrong with me. No woman in her right mind gave into a man without question... did she?

The moment the tone changed from “pleasant dinner conversation” to “interrogation,” I wanted to run for the hills—though whether I was running from him or myself I wasn’t exactly certain.

My love life was none of this man’s business. He was a client and I was his publicist and damned if I didn’t see this for exactly what it was; just another way for him to worm his way into my psyche. Besides that, there was nothing for me to tell. Absolutely nothing, because I had literally never had sex.

How was I supposed to tell one of the world’s most notorious womanizers that I had never been with a man? He would probably laugh me right out of the freaking restaurant.

And yet, part of me felt compelled. Maybe once I revealed my secret he’d back off and realize he was toying with someone who didn’t really know how this whole cat and mouse game worked. Or maybe... I’d just have the satisfaction of having given into his whim.

A little shiver slid down my spine at the thought.

“Ava.” Ares’ low, commanding tone jerked me back to the present, where his stormy eyes stared me down from across the table. “Answer me.”

My womb literally clenched at the command. It was the oddest, most breathtaking sensation of my adult life, and I bit back a moan at the sheer, carnal pleasure of it. It took everything I had not to squirm in my seat.

It took me perhaps ten seconds to come to a decision, and when I did, I straightened my spine and raised my head to look the man full in the face. Even as butterflies slammed violently through my stomach, I managed to get the words out. “I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t have a lover and I don’t have anyone waiting at home because I’ve never actually been with anyone. I’m... I’m a virgin, Ares.”

Under any other circumstances, his reaction would have been hilarious. Ares smug smile fell away and his eyes widened to roughly the size of saucers. Without a word, he filled his wine glass to the brim and proceeded to down half of it in one tremendous gulp. At no point during this entire affair did his gaze leave my anxious expression. It was probably the first time Ares had ever been so goddamned quiet that it scared me. This was the opposite of what I imagined he would do.

I chugged my wine before reaching for the bottle desperately. Ares beat me to the punch, batting my hand aside with surprising gentleness to refill my glass for me. After topping off his own, he folded his hands together on the table, seemingly regaining his composure. In the space of two seconds, his expression changed from flummoxed to completely calm.

He still hadn’t said a word, and I was on the edge of demanding one when he finally spoke. “The other night, when you told me you’d never had an orgasm... have you ever even messed around with another man?”

My face burned at his crass inquiry. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes I have! I messed around plenty in college!”

“With idiots.” He deadpanned. “Who were clearly single-minded.”

It riled me how easily he hit the nail on the head. When I was still in school I managed to convince myself that boys mattered less than getting my degree and that if I turned my back on a sloppy make-out session it was simply because I wasn’t ready. I certainly hadn’t been ready for Ares to touch me the way he did the previous week, and that hadn’t inhibited my ability to go off like a rocket.

“I don’t need a lover,” I finally insisted, grateful when the waiter finally arrived with our food. Eating meant I wouldn’t need to say anything for at least a few minutes—a Godsend at that particular moment.

In hindsight, I should have known better. This was Ares Wolfe we spoke of, if the man wanted something, he didn’t stop until he got it.

I had a delicate bite of escargot halfway to my mouth before he spoke again. “You need to be shown what it’s like, Ava. To lose yourself completely. To come so hard and so often that you forget your own name. To be so goddamned exhausted and used that you still feel your lover inside you the next morning.”

“Lower your voice, for God’s sake!” I tried for a commanding whisper but I could hardly get the words out. My heart stuttered in my chest as my fork dropped from my fingertips to clatter against delicate porcelain. I couldn’t ever remember my throat being so dry... or my panties so wet.

He was joking. He had to be joking. And yet, here I was, trembling at the power of mere words. I wanted exactly what he promised. To be taken and owned until I wasn’t sure where my body ended and my lover’s began. To be burned from the inside out until I couldn’t possibly take anymore.

But the man was announcing it in a public place, for God’s sake. It took me a moment to remember how to breathe, but when I did, I realized that more than one person was staring at us. I couldn’t do this. Not with him, not in public. It was too overwhelming and a larger part of me was desperately afraid I’d do something I’d regret. “I... I need to go.” I started to rise from my chair, startled to find that my legs had all but turned to jelly.

“Sit down.” Ares didn’t miss a beat, and I dropped back into my chair almost without thinking. “Have your escargot and we’ll get the check.” His words were innocent enough, but his gaze devoured every bare expanse of flesh it could find, making me feel all but naked.

Slowly, I took up the fork again and ate. It was delicious, despite the strange mix of nervousness and acute arousal churning in my belly.

My suspicions that somehow Ares would find a way to keep me at the restaurant were assuaged when, miraculously, he did call for the bill as soon as we’d finished the appetizer. Thankfully, by that point, everyone who’d been eavesdropping on our conversation seemed to have lost interest. “Finished, Ava?”

I’d never been so grateful to leave a public place. Ares, to his merit, played the gentleman, opening doors for me as I rushed from the establishment. Before I could raise my hand to hail a cab, however, Ares took firm hold of my wrist. But not too firm. If I’d wanted to pull away, I could. His goal was to get my attention, and he had it the moment he touched me. I could feel the heat of his palm against the pulse feathering in my wrist and I swallowed thickly.

“Come have a drink with me.” Goddamn it. The man was sexual napalm and he sure as hell knew it—why couldn’t he cut me a break?

“I should go. I’ve got some paperwork to go over tomorrow—”

“One drink, Ava.” His thumb slid over the delicate skin of my inner wrists and I couldn’t swallow the hitching, indulgent little breath that escaped me. “I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.”

I knew better. The smart choice would have been to refuse him. To yank my wrist from his hand and catch the next taxi that pulled up at the curve. However, my sense of self-preservation went out the window when Ares touched me.

And ten minutes later, I found myself in the back of his Rolls Royce once more.

He didn't crowd me; didn’t try to get close; or, touch me. He didn’t have to. Just being in the car with him was enough to remind me of what happened the last time we rode together. How he’d lifted me into his lap with such ease and his hand wreaked havoc between my thighs. Truth be told, even watching the man hold a freaking pen made me uncomfortable these days simply because I knew what those dexterous fingers were capable of.

The man must have been a mind-reader because the next thing I knew, he was drumming said fingers on the gleaming leather seat between us. I caught my breath, pressing my thighs together at the breathtaking ache that bloomed between them.

And he hadn’t even come near me.

I was so caught up on reigning in the effect he had on me that I hardly noticed where we were going. When the car stopped, however, and Ares held the door open for me, I immediately tensed.

We had arrived at the last place I needed to be in my current condition.

As his publicist, I knew where Ares lived. I made it a personal point to avoid even the neighborhood when I could but, here I was, right on Central Park East. Ares owned the building, and several others adjoining it, and he’d allocated the top two floors for his personal penthouse.

I opened my mouth in an attempt at blatant protest only to have the man steer me into the lobby before I could even say a word. By the time we were in the elevator—his private elevator—I whirled on him, wrapping my arms around myself defensively. “You said a drink.”

“I did. I have a thirty-six-year-old Macallan that just might convince you to actually like whiskey.”

I merely glared at him suspiciously. “One drink, Ares. One.” He couldn’t possibly think I was drunk enough to fall into bed with him after only two glasses of wine.

Of course, I admitted to myself that I was inebriated enough to ogle the man’s behind as he stepped out of the elevator—but no more than that.

However elaborate I’d expected Ares’ penthouse to be, his decorative tastes surprised me on all fronts. The furnishings were sleek, minimal, and modern from the sofas to the elegant fireplace, still burning in the heat of summer. Another thing that surprised me was that the man didn’t seem to have a staff on hand. The only presence in the immense two-story penthouse was ours.

Which only made me more nervous.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said.

I draped my coat over the back of a streamlined leather couch in the living room before situating myself as primly as I could. A low sound of surprise escaped me when Ares knelt in front of me. My breath catching, I wiggled back against the sofa in a bid to escape—only to have the man chuckle softly in amusement as he plucked one of my feet from the marble floor to extract my foot from the sky-high Louboutin heel. “As lovely as these are, Ava, I’m sure they’re not very good on your arches.”

I watched, completely nonplussed, as he slipped my other shoe off before placing the pair neatly next to a nearby coffee table. “Better?”

At his inquiry, I could only nod breathlessly, my feet and ankles buzzing with a strange sensitivity where he’d touched me. A low sound of approval escaped Ares before he disappeared down the hall in the direction of what I assumed was the kitchen. While he was gone I forced myself to take a few deep steadying breaths. My presence in his house didn’t have to mean anything. I said one drink and I meant to keep my word.

Which was hard when I was smack dab in the middle of his domain. His scent permeated the air and his bold personality was apparent in everything from the shapes of the furniture to the artwork on the walls. The Ares represented here was, by no means, the wholesome businessman I was trying to mold him into— and the contrast made me squirm slightly.

“Here. Try this.” I jumped as the man’s voice came, low and silky, against my right ear. Somehow, he managed to avoid spilling the drink he held out to me. The liquor was a clear honey hue, and I could smell its potency even from two feet away. I made a face.

“I don’t know if I could ever like whiskey the way you do.”

“Of course not. It’s in your nature to like sweet things, Ava. I jazzed it up a bit for you. Try it.” I took the glass from him with extreme reluctance, lifting it to my lips to take the tiniest sip.

A soft sound of surprise escaped me as the burning, sweet heat coated my tongue. “It’s sweet! And warm.”

Ares chuckled, the sound heating me almost as much as the drink. “Added a bit of honey for you. Acceptable?” I took another sip, indulging in the delicious rush of alcoholic euphoria.

“It’s delicious.”

“See? Told you you’d like it.” He dropped into an armchair across from me, looking every bit the international sex symbol I was trying to breed out of him. Those dark eyes alone were enough to make my heart pound—mixed with alcohol and the man’s raw allure, there would be trouble.

The question was did I want trouble?

“I assume yours doesn’t have honey,” I commented, in an attempt to soothe my own jangled nerves.

Ares shook his head with a smug smile. “You know how I like it, Ava.”

I swallowed thickly, my toes curling against the cool, smooth floor. I’d certainly heard enough of his exploits to assume... but I suppose I knew how he liked his whiskey too.

“You know... it’s still a bit hard for me to wrap my mind around the idea that you’re a virgin.”

I immediately stiffened, caught completely off guard by the sudden change of subject. I should have known he wouldn’t let such revolutionary information go so easily. “I am,” I finally answered, with what I hoped was a fair amount of gusto. “And I have absolutely no issue with it.”

“I do,” he replied almost immediately, making me stare at him in incredulity. “It means that no man has ever taken the time to make you feel good. Not the way you deserve.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I remained judiciously silent, taking another sip of my honeyed whiskey. “You’re good at your job, Ava. Extremely good. And beneath all that vim and vigor, you’re sweet, innocent, good, and just all around fucking beautiful. That’s something a man can appreciate... should appreciate. With his loyalty, his mouth and his body and everything else there is.”

I was used to being in a near-constant state of arousal around Ares. Used to tip-toeing around him while trying to maintain some semblance of authority. But this? This was completely new to me. The man was talking about something intimate, but he wasn’t growling threateningly like he usually did. He wasn’t promising to take me to bed. He was complimenting me. In his own unique way, of course, but I could swear the man was looking at me with something very much like admiration in his eyes.

“I... Thank you.” It was all I could think of and I only hoped it was the right thing to say. At that point, I was more comfortable with Ares’ aggressive come-ons than his compliments. Every time I saw him, I struggled to contend with a hard-assed playboy who didn’t take lightly to being told what to do. He thrived far more on giving orders than taking them and was rabid when it came to getting what he wanted.

So, what was this? Ares was suddenly acting almost considerate. The revelation warmed me in a way that, strangely, had nothing to do with lust. So, of course, I immediately changed the subject. “You... um... you have a couple of appearances in the next few weeks. Anniversary stuff celebrating your firm’s incorporation. It’s been what now, ten years? Twelve?”

“Something like that.” Thankfully, he seemed receptive to the new line of questioning. Ares was always open and willing to talk about his business. It was his pride and joy—the one thing he never took for granted or neglected. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Anniversaries mean parties. Do we need to go shopping for you again?”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t keep myself from smiling. For a notorious womanizer, Ares had a weird proclivity towards pampering me. He always paid for any meals I had while we worked, insisted on footing the bill on anything I needed, and was still trying to revamp my wardrobe. Deep down, a part of me liked it.

But he would never know that. “How did you even get into real estate, if you don’t mind my asking?” I suddenly found myself genuinely curious. While I had done a hell of a lot of research on the man before I signed the contract, I knew next to nothing that didn’t occur before his business took off. Any fear I that I might be prying was assuaged when Ares merely smiled fondly, taking another long sip of his whiskey.

“That,” he revealed good-naturedly, “Would be my grandfather. I was a pretty shitty, troublemaking kid, but I always behaved for him. He made me feel comfortable—wanted. When he died it was like I lost a piece of myself. He left me a pretty nice inheritance. Shocked the hell out of me. I never knew the old man was squirreling all that away.”

Ares had shucked his suit jacket and kicked off his shoes, settling back in his chair comfortably as he spoke. It was, perhaps, the most relaxed I’d ever seen him, and it felt surprisingly intimate. And then there was what he was saying. I didn’t want him to stop talking, so I didn’t interrupt, utterly riveted.

“After he died, I didn’t know what to do with the funds but I knew I didn’t want to blow them. The old man would never forgive me for that. So, I looked into housing. My father was a builder so I knew a thing or two... but he was also a fucking drunk who didn’t know his ass from his elbow so I couldn’t depend on him to teach me.”

“What about your mother?” The words escaped me before I could stop them and I immediately flushed in embarrassment, worried he’d stop talking.

While Ares scowled, he continued after only a moment’s pause. “She died having me. “

My stomach twisted in sympathy and I found myself setting my whiskey glass aside as I straightened. “I’m sorry, Ares.”

He shrugged, but it occurred to me that I’d never seen that pensive look on his face before. “Not your fault.” He took another drag of his whiskey. “Pretty sure my dad thought it was mine. He never liked me very much.”

My fingers curled around the edge of the expensive couch as I felt my heart twist in my chest. Jesus... if that was the case, no wonder he didn’t want to talk to anyone about his father. “It wasn’t,” I said. I was no therapist, but somehow I couldn’t stand the idea that he might think so.

“Of course, it wasn’t.” His reply was far too casual for me to believe that the idea had never crossed his mind. “Tragedies happen. But tragedies and alcohol and years of resentment fuck shit up.” He raked a hand through his dark hair and some of the looser strands fell around his sharp features, softening them somewhat. “In the end, I had a shitty time of things and my dad drank himself to death, so we were both worse off for it.”

I swallowed thickly, my hand rising to my throat as I carefully contemplated my reply. I didn’t know if it was the drink or if Ares was simply telling me out of a need to divulge—either way, this flood of information deserved a proper answer. “Not that I think I’m an expert on the matter or anything, but families can be... difficult, sometimes.” I bit my lip slightly before continuing. “Everyone has their own agendas, wants, and needs. And sometimes they superimpose those onto you and everything gets... messy.” I blew out a breath, remembering my last meeting with my own mother with a pang of guilt.

“Speaking from experience?” Ares arched a dark brow and I repressed a groan.

“Don’t get me started. My mother’s a top surgeon in her field and my sister is a high-powered attorney. Both of them are convinced that I went into the wrong field. They never forget to remind me of it.” I exhaled a long sigh. “Family can suck.”

“No fucking kidding.” He finished the rest of his whiskey before setting his empty glass on the table between us. “What’s your dad have to say about all this?”

I sighed, rubbing my arms self-consciously at a surge of unexpected grief. It had been ten years. I kept expecting the heaviness in my heart to lift but a small part of it remained. Always would remain. “He died when I was fourteen. Cancer.”

Ares winced, frowning slightly. “I’m sorry.” In his eyes, I saw genuine empathy... something I’d often wondered if he was capable of.

I rubbed my arms to ward off the sudden chill of grief. “Not your fault. He was suffering. In the end, it was better to let him go.” I exhaled a long, shuddering breath before reaching forward to down the rest of my drink. The last thing I needed was to go all emotional in front of the man I worked for.

“You all right?”

I could feel his eyes on me as I finished the whiskey in two massive gulps—not predatory or seductive, but concerned. Perhaps he wasn’t as bad as I’d pinned him to be after all. I smiled, meeting his gaze reassuringly. “Fine. A little tipsy, maybe, but fine.”

The corners of his mouth quirked upwards in amusement. “You can hold your liquor, Ava. I respect that.”

My heart did an involuntary little flutter in my chest and I felt my face heat. Sexy, overbearing Ares was one thing, but caring, relaxed, relatable Ares was, somehow, all the more intimidating. I made a great show of checking my watch, eager to escape before I did something stupid. “Jesus, it’s ten. I should probably get going.”

I expected him to stop me. To snap back into his old behavior and bear down on me, all demands and sultry promises—but Ares did no such thing. He merely stood, stretching that tall, powerful form of his lingeringly a moment before his eyes met mine once more. “Of course. I’ll walk you out. Before you go, Ava, there’s actually something I wanted to show you.”

With no further explanation, he turned to make his way down the hall behind him, and I grabbed my shoes before hurrying to catch up with him. The penthouse was even bigger than I thought, and we passed a spare bedroom and two bathrooms before he led me into a space with high ceilings and bookshelves lining the walls. His home office.

Ares led me to the opposite wall where I found myself faced by a portrait about two by two feet square. It was him. Or, at least a man that looked very much like him. Upon closer inspection, the man in the painting looked very much like I imagined Ares would in twenty years or so—same rugged handsomeness, same gorgeous, slate-colored eyes. The lines on his face made him look wiser, and a slight smile lent him a kindness I seldom saw on the face of his doppelganger.

It took me about a moment to realize why Ares led me here, but when I did, my eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Your grandfather?”

He nodded wordlessly, staring at the painting as if he expected to find some unexplained wisdom in it—a key to a puzzle he sought to unlock.

“It’s beautiful,” I said. And it was. The talent of the artist was apparent in every loving stroke on the canvas. “Who painted it?”

Ares exhaled a long breath before turning to face me, something very much like hesitation in his usually confident gaze. “I did.”

For a split second, I forgot how to breathe.

Ares put his grandfather to canvass? He was the artist?

My brain could hardly fathom it. This man was most comfortable behind desks in well-tailored suits, giving orders. He reveled in watching people bow and kowtow to him. The artist responsible for the piece in front of us had poured his heart and soul into the work. It was like seeing a memory laid bare on canvas I should know.

I swallowed thickly, my heart thundering in my chest. “Why would you show me this?”

Ares’ hands slid into his pockets as he glanced back at the painting. When he spoke, his tone was careful—as if he expected me to lash out or judge him. “Maybe I wanted you to think better of me... wanted a little something to convince you I’m not the grand asshole you think I am.”

I immediately scowled. “I never called you an asshole,” I said, casting another glance at the portrait. The artwork was truly remarkable, and the fact that Ares had painted it blew my mind entirely. Beyond that, it made my body heat in ways I hadn’t even begun to anticipate. When I looked back at Ares, there was a gleam in his eye that I recognized. Hunger. Physical need. But there was something else there that knocked me completely flat—a softness and genuine vulnerability that took my breath away.

When he bent his head to kiss me, I let him. My hands went to his shoulders as I rose onto my toes to press my mouth eagerly to his, hungry for the taste of him. Ares’ hands came to my waist as his tongue swept across the seam of my mouth before sliding against my own, making me shudder.

But this... this wasn’t like the kisses he’d given me before. Ares wasn’t all over me and his hands weren’t searching for the hem of my dress. He was just kissing me, and it was absolutely glorious.

I knew from the first time in the dressing room how well the man could disarm with a single kiss, but that didn’t mean I was any more prepared for it. Ares tugged me against his hard front, his mouth devouring mine in lingering sweeps that sent sensation pouring through me. All at once, I ached. The tips of my breasts drew taut beneath my dress and the softness of my thighs tightened in longing as I drew closer to him in a desperate bid for more.

Ares’ hands slid from my waist to cup the back of my head in a surprisingly tender gesture as his mouth left mine to trail over my jaw. A soft, trembling sigh escaped me as hot, lingering kisses worked their way down my throat to my shoulder. He was being gentler than I’d ever known him to be, and the sensation of his mouth against my suddenly bare skin made me squirm.

“Ares…”

Dear God, was that breathy moan me? Under any other circumstances, I might be embarrassed, but, at that moment, I felt as if I might die if he stopped kissing me. When he found a particularly sensitive spot at the juncture of my neck and shoulders, I clung to him to keep from falling as he licked and bit, working my nerve-endings until they were hot and raw.

A heavy hand found my breast, cupping it to smooth tiny circles around the tight, tender bud of my nipple and my knees buckled with amazing speed. Ares caught me before I could hit the floor, scooping me up into powerful arms as my face flamed. In a trice, he was carrying me down the hall, his long strides eating up the distance.

I didn’t know the layout of the man’s penthouse, but I had an inkling of where we were going. By the time Ares set me atop the cool, silken sheets of an immense bed, there was a profusion of thoughts running through my head. I wanted to flee. I wanted to tug him down on top of me to feel the length of his body against mine. I wanted to kiss him until I forgot how to breathe... and I was terrified of what might happen if I let him give me pleasure anything like what he already had.

“Ava.” Ares pulled me from my thoughts with a single word, tipping my chin up so I was forced to meet his gaze. “Let me touch you. Let me taste you. I want to make you feel so good that you lose yourself.” His words were both lustful and almost pleading all at once, and my heart stuttered in my chest. “I swear to God I won’t hurt you... just let me…” His hand trailed down my throat and over my shoulder where his fingers curled under the strap of my dress.

His touch was like fire, and despite the careful way I’d lived my life up until that point, I wanted to be burned. Reaching up, I cupped his face with both hands and drew him down to me for another soul-searing kiss.

And I let go.

Ares groaned, low and indulgent against my mouth, as his weight dipped the bed. Within seconds his hard body stretched over mine, bearing me onto my back against the sheets. He took my lower lip between his teeth to tug as he tugged my dress down and over my shoulders to pool at my waist.

Beneath the thick material, I was wearing a transparent, lacy white number that had literally been in the back of my underwear drawer for years. I bought the gorgeous teddy in a fit of bravery that fled the moment I left the shop. When I pulled it on beneath my dress tonight, I wondered what the hell I was thinking.

But the look on Ares' face was worth the few minutes of indecision I’d suffered. His gaze swept over my torso, my breasts plumped high in the lacy undergarment, and a single, low epithet escaped him. “Fuck.”

At the heat that flared in his gaze, I instinctively raised my hands to cover myself but he caught my hands the moment they left the mattress. “Don’t. Let me see you, sweet. You’re so goddamned gorgeous.”

The words were like a shot of heat—down my gullet to linger in my belly before pooling between my thighs. Ares ran his fingertips briefly along the line of my collarbone and down the vee of my breasts to smooth over the texture of the lace teddy. I knew that everything was on display, from the pebbled peaks of my nipples to the freckles that spotted my ribs and belly.

And Ares was utterly transfixed.

After a long moment, he dipped his head to kiss me again, briefly. His hands covered my breasts, each thumb working a nipple into a tight, painfully aroused peak until I was squirming against him. His mouth worked its way over my throat in a leisurely trek southward to meet his clever hands as I did my utmost to remember to breathe.

This was nothing like the way he’d touched me before. That had been heated, hard and overwhelming—shoving me off a precipice before I even realized what was truly happening. This was slow, lingering and so sweetly agonizing I trembled with the sweet torture of it. When Ares peeled down one lacy cup to take a nipple into the heat of his mouth, I gasped at the sensation that jolted through me. Dear God, that.

I needed more of that.

My fingers threaded through his hair as I arched from the coverlet, my mouth a wordless ‘o’ of sensation. Ares drew on me with his lips, his teeth, and his tongue as I panted, quickly reduced to a writhing mess against him. One of my legs seemed to rise of its own volition, wrapping around his waist in a gesture both possessive and hungry as he tugged on my nipple with his teeth. A sharp exclamation of pleasure tore from my throat, and when I strained against him, the agonized, hungry ache between my legs came into contact with proof of his own arousal.

The long, hard length of him slid against my lower belly and my breath caught. Not that I had ever taken much stock in rumors, but I’d been near Ares in a fair number of his well-cut suits. It was enough to give me an inkling of his sheer size, but feeling him? That was something else entirely. I moaned unabashedly as the heat spiked, ratcheting my need from painful to nigh unbearable. I wanted him, and I wanted him now.

When I reached down between us, searching for the heat of his trapped cock, however, Ares caught my hand, drawing it back up to place a lingering kiss against my wrist. “Patience.” He murmured the word hotly against my skin before pressing his lips against the surprisingly sensitive skin inside my elbow and finally pressing his mouth to my opposite nipple so tenderly that I cried out softly.

He did assuage the ache between my legs—or rather, he pressed himself flush against me so his erection slid against the damp lace of the teddy, making me groan. As Ares’ tongue worried the overheated tips of my breasts, he rocked his hips slowly—intoxicatingly—until delightful shocks of pleasure seemed to zip over the surface of my skin.

When my head fell back against the coverlet, he nipped at my ribcage, his hand sliding down between us to find me embarrassingly slick. Considering I hadn’t worn my teddy until tonight, I was probably going to ruin it after a single use—and I was perfectly alright with that. When his fingers found the drenched material between my thighs, Ares made a low, hungry sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “Christ, you’re soaked.”

I laughed weakly. “Totally your fault.” My voice came out in a breathy whisper that I hardly recognized.

“Thank fucking God for that.” His fingers skated along the length of my opening through the thin, damp fabric pressed taught against the tenderest part of me and my breath hitched. As Ares lowered his head to suck devotedly at a soft spot beneath my breast, his thick, calloused digits slipped past the barrier of my teddy to find my slick lower lips. He stroked over me once, briefly, before his fingers slid inside me.

I cried Ares’ name, clinging to him tightly as sensation sang through every nerve ending. He wasn’t even doing anything—not fucking my clenching tightness or stroking my inner walls. He was just there, his presence stretching and filling me so I trembled, trying to catch my breath. “Feel good, sweet?” When he wiggled his fingers slightly, I forgot how to breathe, my head falling back in divine pleasure.

“Yesss…” Of course, I’d touched myself before. I wasn’t a complete amateur. But my own fingers didn’t fill me up like this. They weren’t as long and thick and utterly breathtaking.

Ares' thumb slid up to find the engorged bud of my clit, applying careful pressure until I writhed beneath him. As pleasure coiled, tight, hot, and inviting, in my belly, his mouth returned to my breast, sucking hard at my aureole until I was arching, an inhuman sound of pleasure escaping me as my orgasm crashed over me.

I could feel myself quivering, clinging to the man like a port in a storm as he gently eased me down. Slowly, over the course of a minute or so, the delicious heat ebbed. With a shuddering groan, I buried my face in his shoulder, hiding my burning face. “Christ.”

Ares chuckled, releasing my nipple with a wet pop. “Oh, Ava... you’re so fucking sensitive. This is going to be even better than I thought.”

If anything, I only blushed darker, glad my face was hidden. “Don’t stop... please…” Knowing how good the man made me feel was like a drug... and this time, I didn’t have to stop. I didn’t have to worry about propriety or what it meant in the future. I’d chosen this... and, greedily, I wanted to take and take until I was completely satisfied.

Which meant much, much more.

“The notion didn’t even cross my mind,” Ares assured me. Giving my nipple a final nip before continuing his path southward. As he kissed over each of my ribs and down over my stomach, one hand tugged my dress over my thighs, down my legs and off the edge of the bed. My teddy followed suit, albeit much more slowly.

“Any other man ever see this little number?” Ares tugged at the ornate lacy hem of the teddy against my thigh before nipping at the smooth flesh just below it.

“No…” I managed breathlessly. “I’ve never worn it before.”

“And you’ll never wear it again. For my eyes only, right?”

I might have had the wherewithal to refuse him if his fingers hadn’t been tracing the juncture of my thigh and pelvis leisurely, raising goosebumps with every stroke. “Y-yes.”

“Good girl.” His tongue dipped briefly into my belly-button and I arched against the gesture, my fingers threading desperately through his hair. He peeled my teddy off completely to toss aside before settling between my legs. Ares’ fingers curled around my thighs as he lay on his stomach. Staring unabashedly at the most intimate part of me until I started to squirm.

When he finally placed a tender, barely tangible kiss against my lower lips, I jumped, instinctively driving myself halfway up the coverlet. Ares rectified the movement with a swift tug of muscular arms, bringing me right back to his mouth.

His next kiss covered my clit and I gasped, my toes curling, as he repeated the action. Ares then proceeded to paint the entirety of my inner thighs with slow, torturous sweeps of his mouth that soon had me all but tugging his hair out at the root. Starting at the inside of my knee, he worked his way up one thigh until I could feel the heat of his breath. Then, he switched to pay the other the same attention, ignoring my plaintive, impatient whimpers.

When his tongue finally, finally glided over the seam of my aching flesh in one long, luxurious lap, I cried out loudly. Ares groaned, his grip on my thighs tightening as he fell to feasting at the treat he’d found.

Within the first five minutes of his tongue stroking, lapping, and teasing my lower folds, I was grasping at the coverlet, his forearms, anything I could possibly find for purchase. I had never, in my twenty-four years of being alive, felt something so earth-shatteringly good.

And it wasn’t just that Ares was particularly talented with his tongue—the man’s enjoyment of his task seemed to rival mine. Guttural sounds of satisfaction hummed from his throat, vibrating against my wet, sensitive flesh until I was all but thrashing, begging him for the release that I so desperately needed. Ares was edging me—giving me enough contact to stimulate sensitive nerve endings without letting me reach completion.

“Ares, please…” I finally groaned desperately, as his tongue dipped inside of me. I clutched the sheets so hard I thought I might rip them, wondering if the man was trying to kill me. “Please, please, please…”

He tortured me for a moment more before finally fastening onto my clit to suckle, hard as two fingers slid inside me. I all but screamed the man’s name as his tongue flicked headily at the tiny bundle of nerve endings, his fingers milking my pleasure from me. It barely took half a minute before I was coming again, this time so hard that I momentarily blacked out.

I had no idea how long it took for the pleasure-filled haze to abate. I was too busy riding the wave of euphoria Ares incited as easily as he breathed. Eventually, however, I recognized the sensation of him kissing my still quivering inner thighs, one after the other. With a soft groan, I hauled myself up on unsteady arms to look down at him. “What are you doing to me?”

My faint question only earned me a heated stare. “Tasting you.” I watched, transfixed, as the man lifted his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean, one by one. The sight sent a shudder of satisfaction and arousal straight through me and when he lowered his mouth again, I shrieked in surprise, still overly sensitive.

Though I tried to backpedal madly against the sheets, Ares hauled me back against him, ruthless in his exploration of every intricate fold of me. The second time around, I went from zero to a hundred in roughly four minutes, and when I came against the man’s eager tongue, I thought my soul might have left my body.

While I was still trying to catch my breath, Ares straightened, lifting one of my feet to place on his shoulder and kiss my instep. He massaged my opposite thigh as he pressed soothing kisses up and down the line of my calf until I finally returned to the world of the living.

This time, when I reached for him, he let me.

I half-sat up, grasping impatiently at the button-up shirt he wore before I found the buttons and worked quickly to undo them. Bending down, Ares kissed me—every bit as hungry as that first kiss in the dressing room and then some. I bared his chest inch by inch, almost popping the buttons in my enthusiasm to undress him. When his shirt finally slid from his shoulders, it was all I could do to keep from salivating.

In college, I had my share of dates with academics; rich boys; athletes; and playboys alike. Few, very few of them had bodies worth fantasizing about the next day.

Ares' torso was like something straight out of the pages of GQ, a testament to every smutty romance novel I had ever read with smoldering, half-naked men on the front cover. He hadn’t lied when he said he worked hard to sculpt himself and, the result was well worth it.

“Dear God…” I whispered, running my palms over the flat panes of his chest and down his chiseled abdomen. “You’re a goddamned work of art.”

It was a cheesy line, and I regretted it the moment it left my mouth—but Ares didn’t seem displeased. Far from it, in fact. He let me touch him, my hands skating over the lees and valleys of his physique until they found the waistband of his slacks. When my gaze met his, he cupped my face, drawing my mouth up to his as I fumbled with the belt.

Given Ares proclivity towards pants cut narrow in the groin and his impressive erection, it took me a moment to get the slacks down over his hips. Once I had, however, he did the rest of the job for me, kicking them off into the darkness somewhere.

The action left the man as close to gloriously nude as I had seen in a long, long time, and I admired him unabashedly. The black boxer-briefs he wore clung to his body, outlining the hard length of his cock between his solid thighs and I swallowed thickly. I was, by no means, a large woman. For the first time since we started, I had a few doubts. Would he even fit inside me? Would it hurt?

Well, I knew the answer to the latter. I wasn’t a fool.

“You all right, Ava?” His low question snapped me from my reverie and I nodded immediately, reaching for him once more. Ares seemed to sense my misgivings as he bore me back to the sheets once more, his body covering mine. “Nervous?”

“A little,” I admitted my breath hitching as his lips feathered over my face, lips, and neck. He was rapidly distracting me, to the point where my hips began to rise, searching for his, despite my nervousness.

“I’ve got you, sweet.” His hands were everywhere, stroking the lines of my thighs and stomach, cupping and kneading my breasts, and smoothing my hair back from a damp brow. “I’ll take care of you.”

“You’ve already been taking care of me.” A soft, breathless laugh escaped me as he nipped at the side of my breast gently. “Very well.”

“I need you wet.” His reply came, low and hot, against my shoulder. “Soaked. I want to slide into that sweet little pussy with little resistance.”

My toes curled at the prospect as I writhed beneath him. By this juncture, his cock, separated from me by only the thin material of his underwear, lie scalding and heavy against my thigh. “I’m ready,” I whined, impatient and needing him. “Ares…”

“Shhh,” He hushed me in reprimand, his fingers toying with the tips of my breasts deliciously. “I say when you’re ready, Sweet. I want you to come one more time before I’m inside you.”

I groaned at the prospect. “I can’t.”

Ares met my protestation with a low chuckle. “You can.” He nudged my thighs open wider with one of his own, settling between as if he belonged there. The huge man shifted until he was pressing his erection against my overheated flesh—butting right against my immensely tender clit, and a soft cry escaped me. When he began to rock his hips back and forth, creating a glorious friction that went straight to the core of me, I knew he was right. I could come again—and I would in short order.

Ares rolled and pinched at my nipples as he rutted against me, whispering things both filthy and beautiful against my ear, and I grasped at his bare shoulders hard enough to leave marks. His hand slid down to tug one of my legs over his hip and allow him even better access to me. The adjustment pressed his erection even firmer against my clit and within minutes I was keening and gasping, coming hard against the only barrier left between us.

“Oh my God…” I moaned against his shoulder, my body still tremoring with aftershocks. “Oh my God…”

“Save that for when I’m inside you, Ava.” Ares pulled away just enough to rid himself of his underwear and when I caught my first glimpse of his proud, erect cock, I forgot how to breathe. Any and all suspicions I had about his size were irrevocably confirmed at that moment, and I stared, my lips slightly parted in a mixture of lust and trepidation.

Ares’ cock was long, thick and flushed with his arousal, bobbing indulgently against his stomach, droplets of clear, viscous fluid at the tip evidence that he was just as hot as I was—if not more so. When I reached out to touch him, his breath hissed between his teeth and the muscles of his thighs clenched beautifully.

My fingers could hardly encircle his girth and the realization sent another wave of need hurtling through me. I stroked the heated column of flesh slowly, from base to tip, reveling in the effect I had on him. He was like velvet over pure steel, twitching in my hand every so often, and when I began to stroke him with two hands, Ares cursed lowly. “Fuck. That’s enough of that.” Taking hold of my hips, Ares hoisted me up higher on the bed before spreading my legs with strong hands. He gave me a long once over, from kiss-swollen lips to the slick folds between my thighs, and I watched a ripple of restraint work its way through the muscles of his torso. “I’ll go slow, Ava. You tell me if you need me to stop.”

I nodded, breathless with anticipation—and then, he was there. The thick, blunt tip of his cock pressed against my slick entrance, stretching me open wide. As Ares began to fill me, my head fell back and I gasped, shifting and writhing as I attempted to adjust to his immense size. He stretched me almost to the point of discomfort—and he kept going and going until I felt a flare of sudden pain. A momentary burning sting that made me catch my breath as I curled my fingers plaintively into his shoulders.

“I’ve got you, Ava.” Ares paused for only a moment to lay a warm, encouraging kiss against my neck. “I’m here. It’s only for a second, sweet, and then I’ll make you feel like you’ve never felt.”

I merely nodded, too overcome by the sensation of him inside me for a proper reply. True to his word, Ares waited a minute that seemed to last an eternity before pressing the rest of the way in—until I swore I could feel the crown of his erection pressing against my cervix and the feeling drew a long, agonized moan of pleasure from me. My inner muscles clenched instinctively around the invasion and the man above me groaned, dropping his forehead to mine. “You feel so goddamned good, Ava. I’m losing my mind.”

I raised my hands to cup his face between them, drawing his lips to mine for a brief, heated kiss. “I’m all right,” I finally murmured against his mouth, my toes still curled at the sensation of being so amazingly full. “You can move.”

I expected him to cite patience again, but that seemed to have flown out the window. Ares withdrew from me halfway to slide back in again, and this time, the sting was barely there. In its place, a hot, sweet ache settled, and I arched my hips against Ares’ in a desperate bid for more. He groaned my name, beginning a slow rhythm of strokes that left me breathless. Each time he pressed deep, I cried out, my fingers raking down his back. There would undoubtedly be welts the next day, but at that point, I hardly cared.

Ares was right. Nothing had ever felt like this. The man was a part of me, stimulating all the most delicate parts of me as he slowly ground my sensibilities to fine dust. His cock rubbed my insides deliciously, and he was so thick that he rasped against my clit with every buck of his hips, making me clutch him all the harder. I needed more, deeper, faster.

I wasn’t even aware that I was saying the words until Ares’ hissed a low breath, sucking at my neck hotly, and gave me exactly what I wanted. The next thrust was even deeper than the last, and the force threatened to drive me against the headboard. I shrieked even as one of his hands came around the nape of my neck to cradle me protectively. When juxtaposed with each jarring, cleaving thrust, the gesture was surprisingly tender, and I melted even as I hurtled towards what promised to be an earth-shattering climax at lightspeed.

When Ares reached down between us to find the slick bundle of nerve endings just above where we were joined, I jumped, gasping as my thighs quivered. My head fell back as he stroked me both inside and out, and I knew I was lost.

Utterly ruined.

My last orgasm was the most powerful of the night. I could actually feel my body seizing up, contracting around Ares’ cock and milking it as pleasure spasmed through me. My mouth was open, every muscle in my body taut, and I was certain that, in that moment, I knew what heaven was really like.

The pleasure seemed to go on and on—dimly, I felt Ares stiffening above me as he lost his rhythm, pressing deep inside me. There was a hot rush of liquid warmth within that triggered another, smaller orgasm that left me boneless against the coverlet, barely capable of breath.

Though Ares lie on top of me, he was careful not to put his entire weight on my smaller frame. His chin rested against the juncture of my neck and shoulder, and his hand still cradled my neck. As both our bodies cooled, he pressed soft kisses against whatever parts of me he could reach with the littlest effort and I found myself laughing weakly.

I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so happy—so utterly content. I wanted to laugh, to cry, to sleep, and to bounce around all at once, but my body was having none of that. It was all I could do to merely lay there, stroking over the expanse of Ares’ broad back until he found the strength to roll off me.

When he did, however, he didn’t leave me supine in the bed. Instead, he took me with him, pulling my damp, flushed form against his side before draping the sheets over us. When he kissed my forehead, I couldn’t help the smile that curved my lips. “How are you? I didn’t hurt you?”

I shook my head slowly, pressing myself flush against him. In the few fantasies I’d had of Ares before this moment, I had never imagined him capable of this sort of tenderness. He seemed very much like the type of man who thought with his lower head just as much as the one on his shoulders.

But now I couldn’t say that.

Despite what he’d promised, Ares could have taken advantage at any moment. He could have said any number of pretty words to get me exactly where he wanted me—but he hadn’t. Instead, he’d given me an experience I was almost certain would ruin me for every man that came after him.

Ares was… well, he certainly wasn’t simply what the tabloids made him out to be. He wasn’t just a playboy but an enthusiastic, attentive, sensual lover who explored every inch of my body. He wasn’t merely a vapid, single-minded businessman. His father had hurt him, very much like my family hurt me, and the pain the man caused Ares was evident when he spoke of him. On the flip-side, there was love and adoration. Ares idolized his grandfather and owed him everything. He still carried the man with him today—so much that his image left Ares’ shockingly creative fingertips in the form of a portrait that absolutely floored me.

Artist, lover, vulnerable, real man... I had never thought any of these things about Ares until tonight, and now, I realized, my mental image of him had completely changed. Despite the history we had of jumping down one another’s throats, now, in his embrace, I felt safe and warm. Cherished, as I had never been.

My entire life I was trapped in a bubble of purity—doing whatever I could whenever I could to please a family that didn’t understand me. I’d played by a set of rules that guided my every action—and I didn’t realize how much they restrained me until that exact moment.

In Ares’ arms, I worried about pleasing no one. The opinions of any and everyone were none of my concern. I was free.

Content with that thought, I pressed a warm kiss to his neck, smiling as he grunted and tugged me even closer. It was easy to slip into an exhausted slumber—and easier yet to dream of the man who had turned my world on its head.