It didn’t take long before he was working her jeans’ zipper, and her hands were just as frantic, tearing open his pants to release his massive length. The moment it sprang free, she took the shaft in her fist, reveling in the desperate male sound that broke from his throat.
His gaze gleamed with hunger as it locked with hers. Lips parted to allow for his panting breaths, he braced himself on one arm and slid his palm under her panties. His fingers slipped between her folds, and he groaned.
“You’re so wet.” One finger pushed inside her, and she nearly came. “So tight.”
“I thought I was too weak for you.” She squeezed his cock, rubbed her finger in the drop of wetness at the tip, and he hissed in pleasure.
“I was wrong,” he rasped. “I’ve seen how you handle Battle, Hal… and me. I was so fucking wrong.”
He leaped off the sofa, yanked her jeans from her legs, and then stripped out of his clothes. When he was done, he stood in front of her, a stunning work of masculinity. And, to her delight, he was as smooth and hairless between his legs as he was on his chest. Her heart jerked as he palmed his straining erection.
“I never do this.” He squeezed himself, and she became glued to the motion he began—long, slow pumps of his fist down the length and back up to swallow the head as he delivered a little twist.
“Um… you never… masturbate?”
His eyes were slits behind his heavy lids, but the intensity was in no way diminished. “I never slow it down like this. It’s always rough and hard with a female.” He sank down between her legs, but he never stopped the erotic play with his penis. “It’s always been about the release. The who-can-fuck-who-the-hardest.”
Images of him pounding into other women—females, as he called them—wrung a nasty punch of jealousy out of her, but when she inserted herself into the picture, she flamed hot. To have all that undiluted sexual power ramming into her like a force of nature… oh, God.
“I want that.”
Her declaration sent a shudder through him, and his strokes sped up. The idea excited him. “Not… now.”
He still thought she was too weak. But if it were true that she was dying, she certainly wasn’t going to get any stronger. “Ares—”
“No. You aren’t like those other females. I want this to be different.” He backed up, lowering his head between her legs. There was no warning, just his hot, wet tongue penetrating her slit.
She arched skyward, might have launched right off the cushion if he hadn’t gripped her hips and held her firmly against his mouth. He alternated long passes of the flat of his tongue with lingering, gentle pulls on her clit and deep thrusts inside her.
“You taste like the ocean. Fuck…” Groaning, he lifted one leg over his shoulder and opened her wide, his thumbs spreading her to the night air and his sultry breath. She rolled her hips, encouraging him—not that he needed it. He pleasured her with a vengeance, his carnal timing keeping her at the edge of orgasm for endless, blissful minutes. Streams of erotic sensation made her mindless, light-headed, and before she knew it, her hands were tangled in his soft hair, guiding that magic tongue where she needed it most.
He didn’t tease. He worked her with a goal, and when she began to buck, gasping for air, he growled against her core and latched on, sucking while plunging his tongue into her in a devastating rhythm. Her climax spun up like a storm, a whirlwind of ecstasy, and before it had fully tapered off, Ares lunged, mounting her, his closed fists coming down on either side of her head, the broad tip of his shaft nudging her center.
“I love the way you come,” he whispered into her ear. “You’re loud, the way a male likes it.” Her breath caught at his words, but then he was rubbing his erection through her folds, sliding back and forth over sensitive tissues, and nothing mattered but getting him inside her.
“Wait.” She slapped her palm on his chest. “Protection?”
He lifted his head, his brows drawn in confusion. “My guards are stationed nearby—ah, you mean for the sex.” She nodded, and also really hoped his guards hadn’t heard any of this. “I can’t contract or transmit disease, and I take skullwort every two months to prevent my seed from planting.”
Oddly phrased, for sure, but who cared? She was aching, her climax still throbbing, and she just wanted to get on with it. She stopped thinking, reached between them to guide him to her entrance. “Now,” she said hoarsely.
“Now,” he agreed, and rocked his hips, plunging into her. They both moaned.
His entire body undulated, his muscles bunching and flexing, and when he threw his head back, the corded tendons in his neck strained. They moved together, her legs wrapped around his waist and locked at the ankles over his butt.
“This,” he breathed, “is so good. You’re… still rippling.”
The sea breeze wrapped around her, mingling with the scent of Ares’s warm skin, the steamy sex, and the sweet flowers that lined the patio walls. Suddenly, he reared back, gripped her thighs, and watched their mating. It was such a turn-on, and she was so freaking into it. She braced herself on her feet and lifted her hips off the cushions so she could meet each of his powerful thrusts with one of her own.
The sight of him watching, the way it affected him so strongly, brought her to the very edge. His broad chest expanded in great, shuddering breaths, his eyes burned, and yet, she sensed he was holding back. He was driving into her with passion she’d never felt from the two lovers she’d had—the high school boyfriend she’d lost her virginity to, and then Jackson—but Ares’s great power was restrained.
She. Was. Not. Weak!
An ancient, primal feminine instinct awakened in her, and she snarled, rose up, and dug her nails into his chest. He made a harsh noise, baring his teeth in surprise and pain. She didn’t spare him. Ruthlessly, she raked her nails over him, dragging them over the rolling eight-pack of his abs. His roar of pleasure accompanied a mighty surge, and suddenly, she found herself lifted and her back pressed against the wall, with one of Ares’s arms behind her as a buffer. Her knees were spread wide on the cushions, and Ares was kneeling between them, his hips pistoning urgently as he drilled her deep and fast.
Rocking his head, he sank his teeth into the juncture between her throat and shoulder, and dear, sweet Lord, she was done for. His possession was swift and sure and she reveled in the animal mating. He was marking her with his teeth, with his body, and even the bruises she’d have later would be evidence of the savage fever that had taken him.
Her orgasm blazed through her with the intensity of the Greek sun, scorching her from the inside out. Her body clenched, the pleasure going on and on until he shouted a guttural curse, his body convulsing as a hot wash of seed jetted into her, touching off another orgasm for her, and maybe another for him.
Though he collapsed against her, his face buried in her neck, he kept moving inside her long after it was over. “Are you okay?” His voice was a wonderfully husky rasp against her hot skin.
“Never… better,” she breathed.
With jerky movements, he eased her away from the wall and rolled them both onto the cushions so he was on his back and she was on her side, one leg and arm draped over him. His heavy sex lay glistening and spent on his stomach, and his chest rose and fell with gradually slowing breaths.
“We can’t do that again, Cara.” He trailed his fingers absently over her thigh.
“But I liked it.” Loved it.
“You shouldn’t have provoked me,” he snapped. “And I shouldn’t have let you.” His voice tempered, went low and even. “You can’t afford the energy expenditure or injuries, and I can’t afford—”
“Can’t afford what?”
“I can’t afford to get too close to you. Even if you transfer the agimortus, you’ll be a target for anyone who wants to hurt me or get to me by hurting you. My sons paid in blood because I loved them. That will never happen again.”