Chapter 14
fourteen
-Brynn-
I don’t even know when I got into his car, but somehow, we’re in the backseat and he’s ordering his driver to take us home.
I can barely process how I went from wanting to punch him in the face to going home with him.
But nothing makes sense anymore. The world becomes a blur, and I’m intoxicated by him.
His scent. His grip on my hips. The way his lips move against mine, demanding surrender.
He’s nothing like anyone I’ve ever seen before.
The fire in his eyes burns with the intensity of a thousand suns, and I feel scorched, burned to the ground, and oh so willing to melt under his gaze.
Without breaking the kiss, he pulls me on top of him, ignoring my protest. “He can see us,” I snap, since we’re in this SUV with no privacy window between us and the driver.
“He’ll keep his eyes on the road if he values them,” Ares whispers, his hands finding my breasts, gripping them tightly like he’ll never let go.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I mutter, making it clear this is my choice. I’m not his fucking property.
A man like him only respects what he can’t break.
“You should be,” he whispers back, and the demon in his eyes confirms it.
I push him against the backrest, and he growls, like I’m trying to tame a wild animal. My attempt to overpower him only turns him on. He catches my wrists, draws them behind my back, and pins them there, cuffed within one of his hands.
Then he pushes the top of my dress down, freeing my breasts, covering one with his hand and the other with his mouth. His tongue teases first, playing with my piercing while his eyes raise to meet mine as he sinks his teeth in, the welcomed pain draining down my body straight to my core.
I wiggle in his grip, trying to break loose. “Why didn’t you take Blondie home?” I press, still refusing to give in—or at least, not to be that obvious.
“She went to her own place. You’re the one I want to take home,” he confesses, gently biting on my nipple piercing again.
I got that piercing two years ago, hoping the pain might make me feel something. It never has—until now. And even if Ares isn’t the first man to touch it, it feels like it was made for him. His tongue circles it again and again, and I swear to God, I’m about to melt… or come.
There’s a passion in every one of his gestures that makes everything seem surreal. Like I’m trapped in a blur, screaming to be freed, and he’s the only one who really sees me.
Maybe I want to feed my ego, but I want to hear more.
I want to hear how he chose me. Or maybe it’s just because no one else could see me before.
No one except Elias. My fear of abandonment is as real as it comes.
One of the reasons for my psychotic outbursts.
And the main reason I don’t trust anyone.
I suddenly feel my dress slipping, leaving me far too exposed, even if I have my back to the driver. “Ares,” I warn him, but then I realize he did it on purpose so he could trace his fucking mark.
“I’d never let anyone look at you like this.
He knows better than to risk his life for a peek.
He already knows I can hear his deepest fears,” he pauses, his eyes on me again, like he’s one step away from letting me in on a secret.
“Do you want to know what those are?” he asks, his tone almost diabolical.
“You’re not a mind reader,” I chuckle, knowing he’s probably drunk on his own power. It happens a lot when one person has this much power. It makes you lose your mind. Thinking you could be something you’re not, or maybe that you’ve got supernatural abilities. Like you’re untouchable.
But Ares leans in, his lips gently brushing my shoulder, then my ear. “His biggest fear is that he won’t be able to stop himself from looking at you. And he knows I’d pluck his eyes out and serve them to the crows.”
I’m breathless for a second. Is it strange that I’m turned on by what he said?
Is it wrong that I’m into the power trip, even if I know he’s just showing off?
Or maybe he’s not just showing off, because the next second, he asks the driver, “Hey Dayton, tell me your biggest fear.”
The man pauses, eyes locked on the road, like even looking sideways might turn him to stone.
“Today, Dayton,” Ares presses, and I get the feeling the man won’t be let off until he answers.
“I’m afraid I’ll look in the mirror by accident… and that you’ll feed my eyes to the crows.” The man barely breathes, as if he’s bracing for punishment just for thinking it.
But Ares lets it go… for now—since their versions match and I’m already supposed to be impressed.
“Nice party trick,” I roll my eyes, not falling for it. “Tell me what my biggest fears are.” I challenge, knowing there’s no chance in hell he’ll guess.
He looks at me like he’s dissecting something delicate, intrigue flashing in his honey orbs.
“You’re afraid of being alone,” he pulls me closer to him, my core pressed against his cock.
“I’m too close to you to know all your fears.
But I’ll learn them—one by one,” he hisses, like he’s really got some twisted psychic gift.
“Yeah, right,” I grit out, not ready yet to admit he’s right.
I’m afraid of being alone, but I am also afraid of people.
So where does that leave me?
“And now you’ll be afraid he’ll hear you scream when you come,” he goes on, and my eyes snap to him, wide.
One of his hands slips under my dress, tracing the line of my stockings and garter belt.
“Fuck,” he groans, discovering the straps holding everything together.
Then he advances straight between my legs, his finger trailing the edge of my panties.
“These are the ones I picked for you,” he says, pulling back just enough to admire them.
“Good little curse,” he praises me, and I know the spot he just touched is soaked by now.
He chews on his bottom lip as his fingers sink into me. Like he’s wondering how hard his teeth would graze my breasts.
I want to keep up the resistance, but at this point, I have none.
He pinches my clit, and my body shudders. His lips still roam my breasts, as his fingers begin to circle my sensitive flesh.
I want to tell myself I’m only doing this to get information, but the truth is, my body’s never felt this way with any man before.
It’s like I was dead and now I’m alive. So alive, I don’t even understand what’s happening to me.
My throat can barely contain the moans, and now, I’m biting my own lip, trying to quiet myself.
Yet, it feels almost impossible because his touch is electrifying.
His fingers pump in and out while his thumb is stuck on my now very sensitive nub. His other hand still holds mine behind my back, and even if I’m trying to resist him, he’s much too strong for me to move.
I feel his hand slick with my arousal. I don’t even understand how that’s possible. It’s not like I haven’t tried before with different men. I just didn’t get there.
I don’t want him to see how fragile this makes me. How wrecked I really am from a single touch. And every time I think about it, I try to fight him. To break free from his grip. I’m not going to allow him to have this kind of power over me.
But then he starts thrusting. The echo of his palm smacking against my flesh, filling the air with the sound of him inside me.
The fucking driver might not be able to hear my moans, but he can definitely hear this.
I want to protest, tell him to slow down, for the sake of my dignity and whatever’s left of my sanity.
But before I get the chance to say even a word, warmth coils between my thighs and that tightening sensation grabs hold of me, ready to snap.
“You take my fingers so well. I can’t wait for you to feel my piercings,” he murmurs, and I’m instantly mesmerized.
His what?
The thought’s too irresistible to disregard. My mind instantly becomes chaotic, and something so powerful, I fear it might leave me unconscious, rips through me.
I can’t hold back a moan, but his lips rise to find mine and seal it, swallowing my sounds like he’s starving for them. His grip on my wrists loosens, and I break free, but I don’t fight him, just wrap my arms around his neck, never tearing my lips from his.
I want to hate him, drive a dagger straight through his heart. But all I seem to be doing is kissing him. And I know, I won’t stop at that.
He seems different right now. Still in control, but almost careful with his gestures, like he’s on his best behavior.
He gently lifts my dress back over my shoulders, straightening it like that’ll make any of this decent. As if anything in this car could be.
He breaks the kiss, setting a distance, just to look at me. To see me ravished by him.
A weird silence settles in. As if the weight of what just happened falls like a blanket on us. This isn’t some kind of punishment for misbehaving. This is unfiltered lust following its course.
He brushes my cheek with the back of his thumb, then gently traces my lips like he wants to memorize every detail of my face. I know that's not what he’s actually doing… because I’m not that special. But I can’t deny the effect he has on me.
“Where have you been?” He ghosts the words, like they weren’t meant to escape. And I don’t even know how to answer.
Men like him don’t ask this kind of question. He doesn’t have to charm his way into my panties. He owns them.
But my gaze betrays me. I can’t hide that his question hit something deep—a part of me I want unexploited.
It’s just pillow talk, even if we don’t actually have any pillows around.
I trace my tongue across the tip of his finger, and instantly his chest begins to rise and fall with heaving breaths.
“If you keep this up, I can’t guarantee that Dayton will keep his eyes tonight.
Because I’ll have you screaming so loud, not even his Lord Savior can keep him from watching.
” But just before he can do anything about his threat, the car pulls to a stop, and I can clearly hear Dayton exhale with relief.
I guess he dodged that bullet. Both of us, actually.