32. Chapter 32 #3
The beeping of monitors accelerates like a soundtrack to our display.
Ares’ lips find my collarbone, taking his time to descend to my breasts, but doesn’t push down the top of my dress, keeping the exposed skin just to himself, away from Ezekiel's sight. He ensures that bastard will never see those parts of me, ever again.
“You only belong to me,” he growls against my throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “Say it, little curse. Tell me how I am the only one who controls your heart, your mind, and your fucking nightmares.”
“You,” I whisper. “You’re the only one who fully owns me. You have control over every part of me. Over my sweetest dreams,” I murmur, driving my nails into his back as he licks one of my nipples. “And over my greatest nightmares.”
The cold metal of the table seeps through my dress in contrast to the heat building between my thighs. And his hands are everywhere, cupping my breasts, tracing the scars on my lips, and sliding down to grip my hips with bruising force.
I should feel shame for letting him take me in front of what’s left of my old tormentor. Maybe I should feel used, being displayed as a trophy in this twisted power play. Instead, I feel powerful. Fully transformed from victim to weapon as my pleasure becomes Ezekiel’s greatest torture.
And Ares plans to make this a long torture as he descends between my legs, raising the bottom part of my dress until my panties are on display.
He groans at the sight, especially at seeing the wet spot in the center.
The evidence that I’ve gone insane, because even in this moment, I still want him so badly.
“Look at him,” Ares commands, his voice strained with desire. “I want him to see your face as I eat your tight cunt. The pleasure no other man can give you.”
My face is burning red by now, and as he pulls me toward him, his own face buried between my legs. A second later, he pushes my panties aside and makes room between my folds, biting the sensitive flesh there, pressing his flat tongue with such pressure that my eyes roll without even intending to.
I look at Ezekiel, and his eyes flash with anger, maybe even a sort of desperation, while mine burn with pleasure.
Ares slides two fingers inside me. The sensation is instant, a lightning rod straight to my core. My hips jerk up, seeking more, and the disgust on Ezekiel’s face is the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.
The monitors behind him scream with his distress, beeping in a rapid rhythm that punctuates each thrust of Ares’ hand.
And his tongue… his tongue works its magic, and I will never get tired of it, every circle feels like something new, thrilling, energizing, exhilarating.
He takes his time setting a rhythm that makes my flesh burn, and my whole body tremble.
If anyone had told me this a day ago, I would have said they’re crazy.
But now it feels so right, like he’s rewriting my past and owning, just like he said, even my memories.
Because the darkest ones, the man I fear most, is just a shadow in front of me, while my God of War rules over everything in this room.
How could I ever fear anyone again?
Ares groans, feeling the twitch in my legs, as he devours me. Whatever Ezekiel broke, he’s made sure to fix. Pleasure runs, gathering in every pore like something impossible, a galaxy of sensation is ready to explode into a million pieces.
The high is building relentlessly in my veins, my vision blurring to the point I can barely see Ezekiel. The machines thunder, and I’m not sure he’s not gonna have a heart attack, but I can’t find it in me to fucking care.
And when he sees the way I grip the table, hears my moans that cover the sound of the machines, that’s when he breaks.
“Stop…” he says, and his voice finally betraying his condition.
Something weak, something insignificant.
“I’ve been looking for you since you left.
I looked for you for a whole year. Every day. I never stopped thinking about you.”
I think that was supposed to impress me, but it only makes me sick to my stomach. Potential fuel to my other nightmares. But I’m not gonna let him. I am the one who has power over him now.
Ares' supreme power over me as my body spasms uncontrollably, even in light of Ezekiel’s confession.
I come, my breath panting, the world around me vibrating with just the sensation of his mouth on me.
“Fucking stop,” Ezekiel screams, desperation replacing any hint of self-control.
That only makes Ares smile as he raises his gaze from between my legs, his lips still glinting with my juices.
Then he unbuckles his belt, the metallic click echoing in the room.
And in contrast to his earlier gesture of hiding me, he doesn’t seem so preoccupied with remaining dressed.
Not that he has anything to hide, or anything any other man wouldn’t take pride in.
I bet that if Ezekiel still had eyelids, he’d blink hard. Twice.
Ares moves his tip against my entrance before fully claiming me. Hard, hot and large, the sensation only intensifies as he enters me hard, my body stretches to accommodate him. My back arches almost all the way down to the cold metal; my hands flying up to grab something—anything—for support.
I dig my nails into his arms, desperate for grounding, but he captures my wrists and pins them behind my back in a pure act of power, dedicated to our live audience. I accept his control, welcome it, anything to keep me here, anything to be his.
His other hand moves to my throat. His fingers apply just enough pressure to restrict my breathing, sending sparks of dangerous pleasure through my nervous system.
“I’m going to fuck you until you scream,” he promises, his voice a dark purr meant for both my ears and Ezekiel’s.
“Until you forget he ever touched you. Until the only thing you remember is my name.”