twenty-seven -Brynn- #2
My vision goes white at the edges, and I almost lose my grip on the branch for a second. But I hold on. I’m not going to let go of the branch even if my shoulders rip out of their sockets.
Then, as if to break me, he slides two fingers inside me, raising his head to look at me as his thumb works on my clit, the other digits curving inside.
I breathe out watching him, watch me, tracing each reaction as his fingers dig into my channel, moving against the walls into the most maddening rhythm. Every time he drives that fucking thumb over my swollen nub, I feel I'll faint.
“When this is all over, I’m gonna bring you here and fuck you against each tree in this forest,” he whispers, and for a second, I look around me.
“That’s a lot of trees,” I say through my teeth, barely holding myself together.
“Exactly,” he says with a smirk, leaning in.
His tongue traces hard now, his fingers curl up and forward so deep that I feel he’ll rip me in half, and he hits a spot inside me that makes my world tilt.
Then he prepares the final blow. His lips wrap around my clit, and he bites slowly, then sucks hard until I think he extracts my soul through there.
I scream, moan, beg, as my body spasms in a release so strong, I almost lose consciousness. I let go of the branch and wrap my arms around him, my fingers tangling in his hair.
He keeps me there for minutes until I start to move again. It’s only then that he helps me get down, my arms collapsing around his neck, my feet barely maintaining stability on the ground.
“I can’t get enough of you. I’m so fucking obsessed. I fear I might break you,” he whispers, resting his forehead against mine. He’s charged with more than lust or his own need. He’s charged with something I’ve been fearing to confess myself.
“Ares, I—” but I can’t say it. It’s not because I don’t feel it. I felt it for a while. It’s because saying it makes it real. Makes me so vulnerable. “I—,” try again, but I stumble, fear replacing will. “I—”
“Love you,” we both whisper it in a soft voice, both proud enough to need support to let the words out. But now the words are out there, out loud. For eternity.
His lips claim mine, and I feel a smile on his lips as they join.
I do hope he’s not laughing because I don’t have any pants on.
Anyone who sees us like this will probably laugh their asses off.
But it doesn’t matter right now. I’m still charged with that amazing energy, the one that comes from letting go and belonging to someone.
“I should get dressed,” I whisper as I feel that our kisses are leading to something else, and we’re gonna be late for dinner if we don’t start heading back.
“Unfortunately,” he mutters, breaking the kiss and grabbing my clothes from the forest floor.
As soon as I’m dressed, he pulls me back next to him, pinning my wrists behind my back. “Now you understand?” he asks with a sincerity that leaves me defenseless. “Do you understand why I want you to go?”
“I’ve proven I can beat you,” I whisper, making sure my tone isn’t harder than intended.
“They’re not playing games, or by my rules. I promise I’ll give you everything you want. Any one of them. Every one of them. Just please—go home tonight.”
I look at him, knowing what he’s asking of me. I’ve never heard him plead for anything before. I don’t think he ever has. My skin prickles with goosebumps as I feel I’m betraying my past. But he’s made a promise; and he’s the only man I trust in this world.
A year of chasing, of playing roles, down to a moment in time. This moment. Down to the union of our lips, and into a whisper. “Okay.”
He kisses me harder, sighing with relief in a way I’d never thought I’d hear from him.
“Thank you.” he whispers back, his thumbs running over my cheeks. “You’ll have your revenge. I promise.”
Darkness settles over the forest as we walk back, and it’s night when we get there. It’s winter already, so the sun sets earlier, letting room for a full moon to begin its ascent.
The forest thins as we approach the edge, getting closer to McAllister’s house. The lights from the mansion shine between branches, and the security cameras emerge from the trees.
“Right after dinner, you pack your bags and leave. We’ll tell them one of your relatives has health problems, and you need to be there.”
I take a deep breath at the word relatives because I have none, but it’s a plausible excuse and enough for Ares to stay behind.
I still can’t believe I’m agreeing to this, but I’ve never heard him worry, and that low-key terrifies me. The only problem is I’m worried for him now. I know he’s the God of War, but it’s never easy leaving someone you love behind. I just pray I won’t regret this tomorrow.
“Okay,” I whisper a delayed answer, and he grabs my hand, taking my knuckles to his lips, kissing them. He doesn’t repeat the thank you, but the gesture is so intimate that all doubt and regret wash out.
We cross the open garden like normal guests returning from a pleasant afternoon walk, nothing more. Except for the few spots of dirt on my clothes from hiding in the bushes.
I’m starting to hate this place.
We enter through the back, so we don’t get dirt on the expensive carpets, and clean our shoes at the entrance. We take a secondary hallway that connects to the grand staircase leading to our room.
I want to leave this place, but the thought of leaving Ares behind spreads like poison through my veins.
I hear distant conversation in the house, the sound of the staff probably getting ready for dinner, but there’s a stillness between all of this that I don’t like.
Ares notices it too. He tenses beneath his jacket, and I recognize the subtle change in his behavior.
We enter the main hall, walking toward the stairs, but as we near the base, movement catches my eye. A figure emerges from the side door to our left. A man in a dark suit who looks like security.
Another door opens. Another suit appears. Then another from the dining room. None of them speaks or makes obvious threatening gestures, but the message couldn't be clearer.
"Keep walking," Ares mutters, his voice so low only I can hear. "Steady pace. Eyes forward."
I comply, forcing my feet to maintain their rhythm despite the need to fight back.
The staircase seems suddenly distant, unreachable, even if it’s just a few feet away.
A few of McAllister’s guests appear from the library, from behind the massive fireplace, from a corridor I hadn't noticed before.
They move forward, almost synchronized, forming a loose semicircle that tightens with each step we take.
We both turn to look around us, and I can feel Ares moving behind me, coming to position himself in front of me.
Before he gets a chance to do that, I hear a groan—his.
I turn again to see Benedict and one of the security men pulling a chain that shimmers in iridescence around Ares’ chest, binding him to the massive marble pillar beside the grand staircase—one of the two main columns that bear the weight of the entire mansion above us.
Ares’ jaw twitches, eyes flaring black as he looks at me.
Then he smiles as if he’s mad, yet it’s something different. It’s both of us knowing that every single bastard in this room will die here tonight.