Chapter 9
nine
-Brynn-
My head leans back in the driver's seat.
How the fuck am I supposed to get out of this?
There’s no telling what Ares will do to me. He doesn’t tolerate any mistakes, and for some dumb reason, I keep fucking things up.
I drive through the city, almost crashing at the first intersection.
The last thing I need is a cop on my ass because I’ve had more than enough to drink, and I’m a fugitive.
My papers will check out if they run them through the system.
I had a guy handling that, but it’s not that easy to change your fingerprints.
So getting hauled to the station for an ID check isn’t exactly top of my priority list.
I park in the alley behind the club. The place is still crawling with Ares’s men even though it’s almost four a.m. It’s Saturday, so that explains it. I just hope they won’t all get to witness a live execution.
Ray and Rocco, two of Ares’s henchmen, are posted at the entrance, and by the looks in their eyes, they knew I fucked something up.
“Wanted to join the big leagues, eh?” Ray leans in as I walk past him, his damn lips nearly touching my neck.
I stop, as if daring him to provoke me. I’ll take whatever Ares throws at me, but not from the lowlifes like him.
But the idiot doesn’t get the message, his body presses against my back. “Maybe I could ask the Boss to go easy on you… if you’re nice to me.” The jerk whispers in my ear, his filthy hands sliding over my ass.
Fuck no!
I grab two of his fingers from the hand that just touched me, and with a sharp twist, snap them both. The sound of bones cracking along with his screams, soothe part of my anger. “How about you take those two and shove ‘em up your ass.”
“You fucking bitch,” Rocco lunges at me, in a lame attempt to defend the piece of crap still screaming in pain, his hand still clutched between his legs, trying to deal with the anguish.
I dodge, grab the back of his neck, and slam his face into the wall beside him. “I don’t have time for your shit. Ares is waiting,” I grunt, leaving one on the verge of tears, and the other one unconscious.
I’m not the defenseless girl Ares probably takes me for. I’ve just made some really bad decisions lately.
I enter Elysium, reminding myself that things always get heated around here during the weekend. There are no limits when it comes to decency or what his men should or shouldn't do in his club—mostly because he doesn’t care, as long as business goes on as usual.
No outsiders ever come here, except for the occasional member of different mafia families running business in the city…
and lap dancers, strippers, or whatever women his men bring in for entertainment.
There’s only one rule: they have to stay far away from his table.
He only handles business here, never pleasure.
I make my way between the tables and almost bump into a woman wearing nothing but panties, stuffed with more than a few twenties. Actually, the place is crawling with them… and with plenty of other girls who also seem eager to lose their clothes.
I ignore everyone. They can just fuck whoever and wherever they want. That’s actually happened here on more than one occasion. Everyone can do whatever they want with their lives, I don’t care. I just care about keeping mine.
And by the look on Ares's face, my chances aren’t great.
I’m starting to think I drag out the worst in him, the black in his eyes extended so far, it almost swallows the white.
I thought I was hallucinating that day at his house, but I see it clearly now.
It’s like he’s morphing into something else, something that scares the hell out of me.
There’s a nervous tap of his hands, the veins in his neck pulsing so strongly I can see them against his shirt.
And his full lips, a thin line now, as if he’s fighting to bite back his words.
“Little Curse, you managed to fuck things up again, haven’t you?” he asks, and his hand suddenly stops that rhythm.
“I can fix it,” I say, my tone low, careful not to anger him any further. This time, I don’t pull up a chair, just stand in front of him.
“We’ll see,” he smirks, and for a moment, there’s a glimmer of hope that maybe he’ll still keep me around. “Come closer.” His words, so crisp that it makes it more of an order than a request.
I step closer to him, and he crooks his index finger, beckoning me to lean in.
My instincts fight me so that I won’t do it, but I don’t really have a choice, do I?
I slowly lean in to hear what he has to say, his lips closing in next to my ear. “Do you know what might just save your life tonight?”
I don’t answer, but a stuttered breath escapes me.
“The fact that you’re wearing my mark,” he snaps, his hand, grabbing the back of my head, pulling me on top of him in the armchair. “The fact that you are mine, aren’t you?”
“Y… yes,” I whisper, unwilling to admit it to myself as fear sneaks into my veins like a drug.
I don’t fear people, not anymore.
But I fear him.
He carries a kind of madness no one can predict or control. And as calculated as he may seem, I feel he’s unpredictable underneath all of that.
“Good, Little Curse,” his lips brush the side of my face, marking me as his property once again. “Now you will show me how much you’d like to be mine. How hard you’ll come for me.”
“What?” I breathe, unable to control myself, my eyes raise to stare up into his for a split second, before he flips me around, my back slamming into his chest, my ass pressed against his cock in the armchair.
I want to fight him, but I don’t. I just obey as he pulls me in so close to him that there’s no distance between us. He’s so large that I fit flush against his chest, my body molding to his like he’s my damn shadow. And in this madness, I dare to imagine how it feels to lose myself in his darkness.
Everyone in the club seems to be minding their own business, but I can still feel all the curious eyes running our way.
What the fuck is he planning to do with me? To me?
For a few moments, he doesn’t react, and all I can feel is his hard cock nudging against my ass.
Fuck, he feels big.
But then his hands run up my waist and under my top until they reach the mark—his mark. I draw in a breath, feeling his lips press to the side of my neck. “Does it hurt to be mine, Little Curse?” he asks, his fingers dragging over the flesh that’s still hurting.
I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of saying anything, but he presses harder against the skin. “Yes,” I mutter through gritted teeth, knowing that he won’t stop until he hears it.
“I’ll give you a choice. A very simple one.
But nonetheless, a consequence of your mistakes.
” He pauses, like he’s giving me time to prepare for whatever fucked-up idea runs through that head of his.
“What do you want from me tonight? Pleasure or pain?” he punctuates the last word, and he presses onto the wound again, so hard this time, that I arch into him as my body fights to deal with the pain.
As much as I want to choose the second option, I know he won’t just stop there. I take a moment to steady my breath and rearrange my thoughts back into my head because for a second there, everything blurred.
“Answer me,” he orders, and I know that if I don’t answer soon, he’ll just press there again and again. And I’m afraid I’ll faint next time.
“Pleasure,” I murmur, so silently that he might’ve missed it if he weren’t paying attention.
“Very good decision.” His lips trail down my collarbone as his hand drifts up until it reaches my breast. “I’m so fucking eager to taste this,” he says, fingers pinching my nipple before toying with the piercing.
“I have a few piercings of my own. You’ll feel them one by one, someday,” he hisses, and I can’t tell if it’s a threat or a promise.
I try to be as still as possible, but my instincts fight for control. I hate being dominated by a man like this. I hate feeling helpless. But for now, I have no other choice but to endure it.
“Now, let’s make that pussy purr for me,” he chants, and panic kicks in. I tense, not because of what he’s going to do to me, but because I’ll have no power over it.
Still, before I can bolt back to my feet, he fits my hair into a ponytail and yanks it tight until it hurts. “Were you going somewhere?”
I gasp as he jerks my head so far back that I have no control over myself.
His hand abandons my breast and goes straight between my thighs, moving over my pants, ready to make his claim.
“Are you wet for me yet?” His words slither down my spine and make the place he touches come to life.
What he doesn’t know is that he’s got his work cut out for him.
No man has ever made me come with just his hands, and definitely not in a position where I don’t have full control.
By now, everyone’s watching, a trace of shock in their eyes, telling me they’ve never seen Ares like this before. Some don’t even bother to turn their heads away, like this is a fucking spectacle.
I could rip their heads off for this, but before I can even aim my fury, Ares’ hand slips inside my pants.
His fingers dip lower, circling my clit through my panties, and the sensation is so intense, so unpredictable that I can’t hold back a hushed moan.
Then he slides beneath the silk fabric, and I feel his hand gliding with too much ease.
“You’re wet, my little curse,” the sound of his voice kicks in the back of my head like an awakening, and I’m not sure how that’s even possible. It takes me forever to get even slightly turned on. And yet, now it happened in the blink of an eye.
His fingers resume circling my clit again, this time not through my panties. Now the contact feels real, like millions of tingles running through my body. He’s slow at first, dragging his every move, the spots unattended yearning for his touch.
Why the fuck does it feel so damn amazing?