“A tattoo.”
“Da,malyshka. I know that. What does it say?”
“My life, my death. My way.” I’d gotten the word in Latin done the same year I took control over my own life. Right now they feel like a slander staining my skin rather than a life mantra.
“Ty sil’nyy angel moy.”
His words brush over my skin and leave a wash of goosebumps in their wake.
“You are strong,” he repeats for me in English. “Let me take your burdens. Just for a little while.”
I smooth my hand over his intent on pushing him away but he slowly places both of mine over his shoulders, uncaring that I’m soaking his shirt through.
“Fuck you, Ares.” But my words are cold, powerless as my resolve slips. He smells divine, irresistible, and wrong. So wrong. I know better than to think these things yet the feminine side of me who enjoys the idea of a strong man caring for me gives in a little more.
He gives me a look of pure, raw, soul-scorching lust.
“No, Nova. I’m not fucking you tonight. But this pussy is wet for me all the same.” He sweeps the pad of his thumb over my clit and my knees give out.
“Pozvol'te mne dostavit' vam udovol'stviye segodnya vecherom, Nova.”
His soothing words lure me under his spell and my lashes slowly drift to touch my cheeks.
He presses his thumb hard against my clit, swirls the nub and in that one move, I’m done. My mouth gapes open and I moan deeply.
Ares throws my leg over his shoulder, uncaring of the water soaking him through. Angling my hips toward him, he pulls me in closer, devouring every inch of my pussy with his greedy mouth.
Strong fingers grip my bare ass and I’m suddenly lifted like I weigh no more than a book. My back presses against the shower wall and both my legs are now over his shoulders. Those fingers of his inch closer to places I’ve never felt a man.
“Ares,” I warn, but he’s not listening to me.
Hungry lips latch onto my clit and suck on the throbbing nub.
Hot liquid drips from my core as my insides quake with my release. He probes my pussy with the tip of his tongue and rims my asshole with a finger. The combination works as a sensory overload and I tense but can’t believe the messed-up thought that enters my head.
I want him.
“Mine,” he says in a husky voice so low I strain to hear him over the sound of jetting water.
He eases me down the wall until I’m settled around his waist now and not practically sitting on his shoulders.
The truth is I’ve always wanted to belong to someone like you see in the movies. Be so completely taken by someone the rest of the world doesn’t exist outside that tiny bubble. But that is a fantasy. One I cooked up on nights when I killed the lights as my sister slept. It’s been just the two of us for so long. Two girls against the world. Most nights were hard. Still are. I fell prey nightly to my own weakness of feeling lonely with no one to turn to for help. Usually the next morning those fanciful ideas died along with the rest of my dreams. But hearing Ares say that I’m his stirs up deep feelings and desires I wish I could drown.
I put my hands on his hard chest intent on pushing him away. I try, but he’s unmoving. My captor only stands there with me curled around him, his eyes searching my face for God knows what.
“Let me down,” I say, but he’s not listening. He presses into me until there’s no space between us.
“No. You stay where I put you. And right now I have my white-haired angel where I want her.”
His words are equivalent to being struck by a bolt of lightning. Powerful, burning, and utterly lethal.
I can feel his body, hard against mine and I have no control over how my softer form curls around his. The rough material of his jeans is delicious torture against my clit. He rolls his hips sharply and hits my quivering core with just the right amount of friction to have me shuddering in his embrace.
“Ares, don’t,” I beg him and he chuckles so deeply it strokes my libido instead of sending me running like it should. The cords of his powerful body flex and ripple under my thighs. Perfection and yet wrong. I know this but I still let my eyes drift open to drink in the way our forms connect.
He murmurs more Russian against my lips.
“What?”