I should feel shame for letting him take me in front of what’s left of my old tormentor. Maybe I should feel used, being displayed as a trophy in this twisted power play. Instead, I feel powerful. Fully transformed from victim to weapon as my pleasure becomes Ezekiel’s greatest torture.
And Ares plans to make this a long torture as he descends between my legs, raising the bottom part of my dress until my panties are on display.He groans at the sight, especially at seeing the wet spot in the center. The evidence that I’ve gone insane, because even in this moment, I still want him so badly.
“Look at him,” Ares commands, his voice strained with desire. “I want him to see your face as I eat your tight cunt. The pleasure no other man can give you.”
My face is burning red by now, and as he pulls me toward him, his own face buried between my legs.A second later, he pushes my panties aside and makes room between my folds, biting the sensitive flesh there, pressing his flat tongue with such pressure that my eyes roll without even intending to.
I look at Ezekiel, and his eyes flash with anger, maybe even a sort of desperation, while mine burn with pleasure.
Ares slides two fingers inside me. The sensation is instant, a lightning rod straight to my core. My hips jerk up, seeking more, and the disgust on Ezekiel’s face is the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.
The monitors behind him scream with his distress, beeping in a rapid rhythm that punctuates each thrust of Ares’ hand. And his tongue… his tongue works its magic, and I will never get tiredof it, every circle feels like something new, thrilling, energizing, exhilarating. He takes his time setting a rhythm that makes my flesh burn, and my whole body tremble.
If anyone had told me this a day ago, I would have said they’re crazy. But now it feels so right, like he’s rewriting my past and owning, just like he said, even my memories. Because the darkest ones, the man I fear most, is just a shadow in front of me, while my God of War rules over everything in this room.
How could I ever fear anyone again?
Ares groans, feeling the twitch in my legs, as he devours me. Whatever Ezekiel broke, he’s made sure to fix. Pleasure runs, gathering in every pore like something impossible, a galaxy of sensation is ready to explode into a million pieces.
The high is building relentlessly in my veins, my vision blurring to the point I can barely see Ezekiel.The machines thunder, and I’m not sure he’s not gonna have a heart attack, but I can’t find it in me to fucking care.
And when he sees the way I grip the table, hears my moans that cover the sound of the machines, that’s when he breaks.“Stop…” he says, and his voice finally betraying his condition. Something weak, something insignificant. “I’ve been looking for you since you left. I looked for you for a whole year. Every day. I never stopped thinking about you.”
I think that was supposed to impress me, but it only makes me sick to my stomach. Potential fuel to my other nightmares. But I’m not gonna let him. I am the one who has power over him now.
Ares' supreme power over me as my body spasms uncontrollably, even in light of Ezekiel’s confession.
I come, my breath panting, the world around me vibrating with just the sensation of his mouth on me.
“Fucking stop,” Ezekiel screams, desperation replacing any hint of self-control.
That only makes Ares smile as he raises his gaze from between my legs, his lips still glinting with my juices. Then he unbuckles his belt, the metallic click echoing in the room. And in contrast to his earlier gesture of hiding me, he doesn’t seem so preoccupied with remaining dressed. Not that he has anything to hide, or anything any other man wouldn’t take pride in. I bet that if Ezekiel still had eyelids, he’d blink hard. Twice.
Ares moves his tip against my entrance before fully claiming me. Hard, hot and large, the sensation only intensifies as he enters me hard, my body stretches to accommodate him. My back arches almost all the way down to the cold metal; my hands flying up to grab something—anything—for support.
I dig my nails into his arms, desperate for grounding, but he captures my wrists and pins them behind my back in a pure act of power, dedicated to our live audience. I accept his control, welcome it, anything to keep me here, anything to be his.
His other hand moves to my throat. His fingers apply just enough pressure to restrict my breathing, sending sparks of dangerous pleasure through my nervous system. “I’m going to fuck you until you scream,” he promises, his voice a dark purr meant for both my ears and Ezekiel’s. “Until you forget he ever touched you. Until the only thing you remember is my name.”
The table rocks beneath us, the metal legs scraping against the floor. Every sound is amplified in this chamber—the slap of skin, the ragged gasps for air, the wet, obscene noises of sex. If there was any dignity left to me, I just shed it without regret.
I strain against his grip on my wrists, not to escape but to test the boundaries of my confinement, to feel the security of being held in place by someone so powerful, to feel protected. He drives into me harder, faster, each movement meant to push me closer to the edge. By now, my body is hypersensitive, every nerve ending responding only to him. I feel the orgasm building,a pressure at the base of my spine that threatens to detonate and leave me in pieces.
And just as he pounds into me, he raises my dress to the side and digs his fingers into two of my scars. “No one gets to mark your body, except me,” he says loud enough so that Ezekiel hears him. And the half man, growls in anger, while I can only moan in pleasure.
I open my mouth, and the sound that comes out doesn’t belong to any language. It’s a howl, a scream, a death knell for the person I used to be and a birth cry for the thing I am becoming. I scream Ares’ name, not out of loyalty but out of necessity, because nothing else will do.Nothing but him.
Ezekiel’s monitors go from frantic to panicked. Alarms blare as his vitals spike to levels that would kill a normal man. His eyes are wild now, and for the first time, I see something like fear.
Ares keeps going, nothing stopping him. His hand wraps around my throat just tight enough to make the world narrow to a tunnel. My vision blurs at the edges, the room spinning, but I return to get eye contact with the man who made me what I am.
He releases my wrists to grip my hips, angling me higher, driving deeper. My freed hands immediately move to his shoulders, nails digging through his shirt into the muscled flesh beneath. He hisses in pleasure and pain, retaliating by snapping his hips harder against mine.
“Such a good little curse,” he growls, watching my face contort with pleasure.
My body responds to his praise, clenching around him, drawing him deeper, like it can’t get enough of him. The pressure builds inside me, a gathering storm of sensation centered where our bodies join. Ares rhythm grows more impossible, less controlled, as his own release approaches.
“Come for me,” he demands, his thumb finding the bundle of nerves above where he enters me. “Let him see what onlyI can give you.” The command, along with the pressure of his thumb, pushes me over the edge. My back bows, head thrown back as pleasure crashes through me in merciless waves. I cry out Ares’ name, the sound torn from my throat like a prayer or a curse. My entire being contracts around Ares, all of me drawn to everything this man is.