Chapter 18 #2
For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. Then Maya’s free hand comes up, not to push me away as I expected, but to fist in the front of my shirt, yanking me down to her level with surprising strength.
“I warned you,” she breathes against my mouth, and then she’s kissing me.
The contact is electric, a shock that runs from my lips straight to my core. Her mouth is warm and insistent against mine, nothing tentative in the way she claims this kiss. I respond instinctively, my free hand coming up to tangle in her purple hair, angling her head to deepen the contact.
She makes a small sound against my lips—not quite a moan, but something close—and the last threads of my self-control begin to fray. I back her against the counter, lifting her easily to sit on its edge, stepping between her thighs as they part to accommodate me.
The kiss turns hungry, desperate, all teeth and tongue and barely restrained violence. Her nails dig into my shoulders, sharp enough to sting even through the fabric of my shirt. I retaliate by nipping at her lower lip, hard enough to draw a gasp but not quite hard enough to break skin.
“I’m still angry with you,” she says against my mouth, her voice breathless and ragged.
“I know,” I reply, trailing kisses along her jaw, down the column of her throat. “I’m angry too.”
“About what?” she challenges, her head falling back to give me better access.
I pause, my lips hovering over her pulse point. “About how much I’ve missed you,” I admit, the words torn from somewhere deep and vulnerable. “More than I thought possible.”
Her breath catches, her body going still beneath my hands. For a moment, I think I’ve said too much, revealed too much of what I’ve kept carefully hidden. But then her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me back up to her mouth with an urgency that matches my own.
“Show me,” she demands against my lips.
The last of my restraint shatters. I lift her fully onto the counter, my hands sliding beneath her shirt to find warm skin.
She arches into my touch, her legs wrapping around my waist to pull me closer.
The heat of her core presses against me through our clothes, drawing a groan from deep in my chest.
I want to take my time with her, to savor this unexpected connection, to map every inch of her body with hands and mouth and memory.
But there’s an urgency between us, a desperate need that won’t be denied.
My hands find the waistband of her borrowed sweatpants, tugging them down over her hips as she works at the buttons of my shirt.
“Here?” she asks, the question half-breathless as I discard her pants, leaving her lower half bare to my gaze.
“Here,” I confirm, my voice rough with desire. “Now.”
She nods, her eyes dark with want as she reaches for my belt, unfastening it with trembling fingers. I help her, impatient now, pushing my pants down just enough to free myself. Her hand wraps around me, warm and sure, and for a moment I forget how to breathe.
“Look at me,” she commands, and I obey, opening my eyes to find her watching me with an intensity that steals my breath. “I want to see your face when you’re inside me.”
The words send a fresh surge of heat through my veins. I position myself at her entrance, one hand gripping her hip, the other braced on the counter beside her. “Ready?” I ask, needing her confirmation even now, even with desire clouding my judgment.
“Yes,” she breathes, her legs tightening around my waist. “Please, Poe.”
The sound of my name on her lips undoes me. I push forward in one smooth thrust, burying myself to the hilt inside her tight heat. We both gasp at the sensation, her inner walls clenching around me in a way that threatens to end this before it’s properly begun.
I hold still, giving us both a moment to adjust, to savor this connection. Her hands come up to frame my face, her gaze holding mine with surprising tenderness.
“Move,” she commands in a whisper, and I do.
I establish a rhythm that’s neither gentle nor punishing—steady, deep thrusts that have her gasping with each one.
Her heels dig into the small of my back, urging me deeper, harder.
I comply, one hand sliding between us to find the bundle of nerves at her center, circling it with my thumb in time with my thrusts.
She’s responsive in a way I hadn’t anticipated, her body arching into each touch, small sounds of pleasure escaping her with each breath.
I memorize them all—the catch in her throat when I hit a particularly sensitive spot, the soft moan when my thumb presses just right, the way my name sounds when she’s breathless with need.
The kitchen door swings open, and we both freeze. Ares stands in the doorway, his expression shifting from surprise to something darker, more heated.
“Don’t stop on my account,” he says, his voice rough as he leans against the doorframe, making no move to leave.
I look to Maya, waiting for her reaction—for the embarrassment or anger I expect. Instead, she meets my gaze with a challenge in her eyes, her inner walls deliberately clenching around me in a way that makes my breath hitch.
She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling my head down for a deep kiss. Then pulls away just far enough to whisper against my lips. “Harder.”
I resume my rhythm, driving into her with renewed intensity. Her nails score my back through my shirt, marking me in a way that sends a primal thrill through my blood. I want her to leave evidence of this encounter, want to carry the memory of her touch on my skin long after we’re done.
“Close?” I ask, feeling the telltale tightening of her body around mine.
She nods, her eyes half-closed with pleasure. “So close. Don’t stop.”
The knowledge that Ares is watching just makes it better.
I have no intention of stopping. I increase my pace, my thumb circling her clit with more pressure, my other hand tangling in her hair to tilt her head back, exposing the length of her throat to my mouth.
I bite down gently on the juncture where neck meets shoulder, not hard enough to break skin but enough to leave a mark.
The sensation pushes her over the edge. She comes with a cry that she muffles against my shoulder, her body clenching rhythmically around mine, drawing my own release from me in a rush of pleasure so intense it borders on pain.
For several moments, we stay like that—connected, breathing hard, neither willing to break the spell just yet. Her forehead rests against mine, our breath mingling in the small space between us. I can feel her heart racing, matching the frantic pace of my own.
She collapses against me, exhausted.
I’m just glad to know that we still have one way to earn her compliance.