eleven -Brynn-
eleven
-Brynn-
“I wasn’t sure who to trust at first, then...
I just didn’t get the chance.” I kneel next to him to examine his wound.
It’s not bad enough to be life-threatening, but it isn’t a scratch either.
He’ll need some serious stitches, but he will survive.
And that brings my attention to Ares because he doesn’t strike me as the kind who ever misses.
This was intentional. He wanted to punish him, not to kill him.
Ares’ back is to us, gun still in his hand, that same tension still in his body. I can feel it in every breath. I don’t need to see his face to know he’s still closer to the darkness than to me.
I stand, forcing my leg to walk over to him. “Thank you,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around his back until my palms reach his chest. I know he didn’t kill 404 because of me. I also know that sparing him broke Ares’ code of values.
Traitors don’t get to live in his world. Yet 404 still breathes and I’m the only thing standing between him and his death.
“Ricky,” I call, and Ares’ henchman shows up in a heartbeat. “Take 404 back to his old room and get him some medical attention.” I nod to 404, so he won’t say anything. I have a plan. But he needs to keep quiet so I can make it work. Besides, I need him out of here, before Ares changes his mind.
Ricky doesn’t move before looking at Ares, since he’s his loyal dog. As soon as Ares nods his head as a yes, he helps 404 up and disappears with him.
Only then can I finally breathe. I sometimes forget who Ares really is when we’re alone, but this certainly just reminded me of his power and influence. The way he commands any room he walks into, the way he instills fear into anyone present.
“Ares,” I walk right in front of him, trying to assess how bad the situation really is.
Judging by the chilling coldness reflected in his eyes—it’s bad.
This isn’t just anger, it’s something darker, bordering at the edge of chaos.
That makes me reconsider insisting on my plan regarding 404, and more on calming him down. “I’ll make it up to you.” I don’t mean it in a sexual way. I’ll make it up to him every time I get a chance. I’ll be there if and when he needs me.
He doesn’t respond, just turns and walks away, expecting me to follow.
I walk behind him, much slower, as usual, and once I’m outside, I see him waiting in the car. I slip into the passenger seat, and he drives off before I even get the chance to close the door.
The drive back to his place is tense, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved tension.
When we finally pull up in front of his house, he doesn’t even kill the engine, just drops me off since he’s got—and I quote—other business to attend to.
I’m seriously pissed off because he expects me to rot here all day instead of taking me along with him, but I don’t comment. I still have some self-preservation, which tells me to leave everything for later, maybe even for a few more days.
That doesn’t mean I’m gonna make things easier for him. As soon as I get inside, I remember the large stack of boxes filled with clothes and other things he bought for me. Those would really come in handy right now.
It’s late when Ares gets back home, and I’m not surprising him with some dinner I would’ve busted my ass cooking all night and would probably end up killing us both.
I made myself a sandwich a few hours ago, so I’m not hungry, and Ares doesn’t seem in the mood to eat. Or talk. Or acknowledge my presence.
He just strides to his bedroom, dismissing me entirely, like I’m just some ghost haunting his space.
The door closes behind him with a definite thud, echoing the finality of whatever happened in the warehouse.
I was planning a glass of wine and nice conversation where I would try to smooth things over, not that I’m the right kind of person to smooth anything. Still, I wanted to give it a try.
That’s definitely not going to work, so I might as well get ready for bed.
I mean extremely ready for bed. That’s why I went through twenty boxes today until I found a piece of lingerie I remember seeing on the day Ares left to set up Kharon.
I find him lying in bed, right on top of the covers, comfortably resting between the decorative pillows, watching TV. He even changed into a pair of shorts… no T-shirt. Truth be told, it would be a sin for him to wear one.
He doesn’t even look at me as I slip into the room, then into my side of the bed, under the cover. And I’m not trying to look desperate—yet.
He’s watching a documentary about the Mayans and different practices, which makes him flare his nostrils, even hiss a couple of times, meaning they’re probably making shit up to fill in the gaps.
I don’t ask, though, just wait half an hour for it to be over, only for him to keep ignoring me and stare at commercials.
While I could understand the interest in the latest vegetable chopper, things got pharmaceutical, and last time I checked, he’s a god.
Okay, that’s it.
Pushing the covers aside, I climb on top of him before he gets a chance to react. Not that I get any reaction out of him. He just tilts his head slightly to the right to get a better view of the TV.
“Ares,” I whisper, calling for his attention.
Not that he seems in the mood to acknowledge my presence. “I’m watching TV,” he mutters, focused on the commercial like it’s the most interesting thing on earth.
I wonder if this is what being married feels like?
TV: We’ve got your back... and your butt. 100% guaranteed.
I turn my head to the TV for a second, just to make sure I heard that right, then burst into almost hysterical laughter as I realize it’s a hemorrhoid ointment ad. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you have this kind of trouble.”
He scoffs, utter annoyance in his voice. “This shit doesn’t work on me.”
“What—the ointment?” I laugh again, unable to contain my amusement. “That’s okay, I’m pretty sure they have clinics where they can help you.”
At least now I've got his attention. “Brynn, don’t piss me off, I’m one second away from combusting,” he mutters, his irritation palpable.
That's definitely my cue to stop. “Okay… I was just trying to loosen things up. It’s been a tense day for everyone,” I say, pressing my hands against his chest and slightly lowering myself on his bulge.
I have zero skills when it comes to seducing him into seeing things my way. But the thing is, that's not what I'm doing. I'm just not fighting tonight. Fighting him, fighting my demons… even fighting myself.
Ares still looks like he's pissed, giving me some kind of godlike death stare, which only makes the throb between my thighs worse. “This kind of shit that doesn't work on me… this whole seduce your way into getting what you want thing,” he growls, probably expecting to call me out on my bluff.
I have to admit, I might have partially relied on some womanly skills to get him more relaxed yesterday, but not tonight. Tonight it’s just me, letting myself feel the need to belong to someone.
“That’s not what I’m trying… I swear. It’s just that… what you did today back there… I know what it meant to you. You should know it meant something to me, too.” I let the words settle, heavy like the confession they bring to light.
He means something to me. Much more than I’m saying, even more than I’m letting him see. “Let’s not fight. At least for a night.” My lips descend over his, stealing a kiss he’s not yet ready to give. “Let’s make peace, not war,” I whisper again, letting my robe drop.
I swirl my hips against him, feeling the heat of his body like a magnet.
Still no answer, but I don’t need one—I can feel him twitch beneath me, a telltale sign of his desire. Maybe he can hold himself back from kissing me, but he’s a man, and no matter how much he tries to exert control, he can’t exert it over his cock.
We lock eyes as I let my hand fall between us, grabbing his length through his pants and running my fingers along his piercings.
Oh, I definitely have his whole attention now.
But he still doesn’t show it, just keeps his eyes trained on me as I run my hand over him a couple of times.
I was expecting that—the mask of practiced control not to yield. Though, I’m not trying to prove a point. I just want to feel him. Because in reality, the thought that he is so distant drives me more mad than I’d like to admit to myself.
I free him from his shorts, pushing them as low as I can manage since he doesn’t bother to help. My heart races as I raise my hips and lower myself onto him. No promises. No rush. Just the sound of our irregular breaths and some fucking stupid laxative ad playing in the background to set the mood.
God, I hate that damn TV.
For once tonight, Ares seems to agree, breaking his practiced indifference and grabbing the remote to turn it off.
But the second every other distraction is gone, it’s just us, the silence pierced by the sound of our beating hearts, the pull of our bodies that’s too loud to ignore.
I lower onto him—slow, too slow, painfully slow, watching the anticipation in Ares’ eyes confirm it. He might not say anything, but the way his jaw tightens and his pupils flare tells me everything I need to know.
I gasp as my pussy swallows another piercing, then another, and my back arches. And another, and I close my eyes. I might not have liked sex before, but I’m starting to think I’m turning into a nympho around him.
And another, and I lean back, grabbing his legs for support. Another, and I watch him, his eyes no longer able to feign indifference, now focused on the sheer piece of lingerie he bought me.
Then the last one, my nails digging into his skin as I hear him groan, feeling the tightness, the grasping sensation that claims him entirely. The hold so maddening for both of us, the sensation spreading like a drug in every cell.
My mind wanders for a second—maybe my soul as well, the feeling of us united so complex I can’t even describe. A few moments later, I’m still trying to get a grip on reality like the damn thing ran off the second I got on top of him.
My hips are governed by pure craving, but I don’t rush. It’s one of the few moments where the outside world stops, leaving just the two of us, and I want to make it last as long as possible. In fact, I don’t think I ever want to stop.
It’s as if Ares understands the unspoken need ruling my body. He doesn’t make any hasty gestures or try to take control. He just lets me claim whatever I want from him.
Still, as much as I revel in the feeling of being so full, it’s never enough. I’m not even referring to my body. My body is one step away from breaking, disintegrating on top of him. I mean, I can’t get enough of him. No matter what I do. No matter how badly I know I should stay away.
Just as I lose myself in the storm of our connection, a jolt of pain shoots up my thigh when my knee hits the mattress. My damn leg is giving me trouble again.
I shift my weight so I can keep moving. I think I could be dying right now, and I still wouldn’t stop arching against him.
It’s only then that he reacts, his hands grabbing my hips, helping me lift myself. His grip strong enough to take away the pain, yet light enough so I can still move freely. That’s exactly what I do, swirl after swirl, motion by motion, groan after groan.
Truth is, I'm expecting him to say something stupid, like I can’t help myself when it comes to his out of this world cock, or who knows what to boost his manly ego.
Instead, he stays quiet, only the sounds of his harsh breath every time he bottoms out in me, where I can feel him in the pit of my stomach.
All of a sudden, he lifts himself higher on the bed until his back presses on the headboard and the distance between our lips is impossibly small.
I don’t waste time eating up that space.
My arms wrap around his broad neck. A few of his braids tickle my shoulders as I kiss him hard.
Hard enough for him to feel that I mean it. Hard enough to matter.
My breasts press against his chest, my lips join with his, and my pussy swallows him whole like a greedy vice, clamping over and over again around him, as I ride him through an orgasm so intense that both of us tremble as I feel the warm result of his release, filling me up.
The night could stretch on for hours. It wouldn’t have been the first time that happened. But this wasn’t about sex. It was about something deeper, an undeniable connection.
I think that’s what makes Ares hold onto my hips, anchoring me in place and keeping me from moving off him. Not even as I fall asleep on his chest, his arms wrapped around my back, his heart like a lullaby beneath me.
But deep down, I am a warrior like him. I don’t need lullabies. I need a song of war.
The dawn brings me exactly that. The thought of stopping my search for Elias' killers never crossed my mind.
Still, I didn’t just sleep with Ares to soften him into helping me. It was about so much more, and I know he won’t let me off easy just because I played the nice girl for a night.
So I guess it’s safe to say it’s gonna be a tough morning.