Page 76 of Bonds of Pain
“In the nest,” I whisper. “Not just the bed.”
“In the nest,” he agrees, helping me to my feet. “Just a nap before dinner.”
As he gently pulls back the covers, careful not to disturb the general shape, I realize I’m still clutching my bundled dress from Dani’s. The fabric is cool against my tear-heated cheeks. Ares gently takes it from me and sets it on a nearby chair before helping me onto the mattress.
I curl onto my side, still crying, though I couldn’t explain why if my life depended on it. Ares sits on the edge of the bed, making the mattress dip.
With the weight of him pressed to my back and the comfort of our combined scents wafting up from the sheets, it’s hard to remember why I’ve put so much effort into resisting this.
Iwake to a fluttering sensation between my thighs, my mind still adrift in dreams. Gentle waves lap against my skin, warm and rhythmic. The pleasure builds slowly, radiating outward from my core in pulsing waves.
Something isn’t right. The sensation is too real, too precise.
My eyes snap open as consciousness crashes over me. The room is dim, evening light filtering through half-drawn curtains. I’m still in Ares’s room, still in his nest, but I’m no longer alone in it.
Ares is between my legs, his face buried against me, his mouth working with determined focus. My pants are gone, leaving me exposed from the thighs down. His large hands grip my thighs, holding them apart as his tongue traces patterns that make my breath catch.
I should scream. I should kick him away. I should be furious.
But it feels so good.
Instead, my body arches toward him, seeking more of the pleasure that’s already building to a crescendo. I’m right on the edge, so close that stopping now would be its own kind of torture.
“Ares,” I gasp, my voice barely a whisper.
He looks up, his green eyes meeting mine. There’s no surprise in them—he knew I was waking up. His mouth doesn’t stop its movement, and the sight of him watching me while his tongue works against my most sensitive spot sends a jolt of electricity up my spine.
“What are you—“ My question dissolves into a moan as he increases his pressure, his focus unwavering.
My hands find his curls, fingers tangling in them. I don’t know if I’m trying to pull him away or hold him closer. My body has made its own decision, hips lifting to meet his mouth.
“Let go,” he murmurs against me, the vibration of his words adding to the sensation. “Just let go.”
The orgasm hits me like a tidal wave, crashing over me without warning. My back arches off the bed, a cry tearing from my throat as pleasure pulses through every inch of my body. Ares doesn’t relent, drawing out each wave until I’m trembling, oversensitive, my hands now definitely pushing at his head.
He finally pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His expression is smug, satisfied.
“What the hell was that?” I demand, my voice shaky as I struggle to catch my breath.
“Good morning to you too, princess.” He sits back on his heels, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Or should I say good evening?”
I scramble to pull the sheet over my exposed lower half, suddenly aware of my vulnerability. “You can’t just—you didn’t ask?—“
“You were making these little sounds in your sleep,” he says, his voice dropping to a husky register. “Like you were having the best dream. I just wanted to make it real.”
Anger flares through me, cutting through the lingering pleasure. “That’s not your decision to make.”
Something shifts in his expression—not quite remorse, but a flicker of understanding. “You’re right. I should have woken you first.”
His admission catches me off guard. I expected him to argue, to justify his actions.
“Yes, you should have,” I say, clutching the sheet tighter around me. “Where are my pants?”
“On the floor.” He gestures toward the foot of the bed. “You kicked them off in your sleep.”
I narrow my eyes. “I did not.”
A grin spreads across his face, unrepentant. “No, you didn’t. I took them off. But you didn’t stop me.”
