The Accidental Marriage: Chapter 20

Ares’s dark laughter sends hot shivers down my spine. Oh my God, how did my considerateness turn into this?

After my meeting with Ethan, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what Ares said he wanted out of marriage, and I want to give him everything he wants. After all, he’s giving me my freedom and agency over my money and body. And separate bedrooms seem more than reasonable. That way, none of us will appear clingy and ridiculous. And we can pursue whatever we want after work—aside from a few dinners he said he’d like to have with his wife—in peace without anybody hovering.

Ares kicks the door to his bedroom open. The bed is impeccably made—not by me, because, much to my shame, I realize I didn’t bother this morning. Already failing at the respect part, I think with chagrin.

I squirm on his shoulder, trying to get down. He slaps my butt again, sending an erotic ripple through me. Embarrassment flames my cheeks. What is up with me? But at the same time, I can’t deny being tossed over his shoulder like this is hot as hell. The sexy dichotomy of my husband in a hand-stitched three-piece Italian suit carrying me to bed like a barbarian is irresistible.

He stalks to the bed, moving like I weigh nothing. My entire body shivers at the demonstration of strength. He stops a few feet in front of the bed, and I bite my lip, ready to be thrown on the mattress, but instead, he gently sets me down on my feet.

His arm wraps around my waist as he pulls me to him. His thick erection pushes against my belly, and I gasp at the contact, looking up at him. His sapphire eyes are darker, like the endless depths of the Pacific, and he tangles his fingers in my hair, holding me as he plunders my mouth.

I kiss him back, loving the contact. When he ravages me with his tongue, I feel wanted and loved. The way he patiently draws my reaction and enjoyment makes me feel cherished and glad I’m with a generous lover.

He tastes so good—saké and man, darkly seductive and sweet. I rub my tongue against his, urging him, needing more. I want him tonight.

He unzips the back of my dress. The straps slide down, trapping my arms and baring my breasts to his hot gaze. My nipples are hard. Without breaking the kiss, he strokes the pad of his thumb over one tip, sending a jolt of electric heat that pools between my legs, leaving my flesh slick and achy.

I rock against him, wishing I could soothe the emptiness inside. He grips my ass, his palm hot through my dress, then closes his mouth over my nipple, pulling it deep inside. I arch my back, clenching his hair and holding on as honey-sweet pleasure seeps into me. My limbs grow weak, and I cling. He shows no mercy, his tongue stroking, his teeth nipping, and his lips soothing. He’s determined to drive me insane.

“Ares…” I moan softly as my knees buckle.

“Still think you can walk, my love?”

Dazed, I blink up at his intense eyes. His mouth is wet and flushed, and need burns in his gaze as he waits for my answer.

I shake my head, burning up with the fire he stokes in my veins.

I rise up on my toes and kiss him. He picks me up, pressing the lengths of our torsos together, so with every step he takes we’re rubbing against each other. Then he drops me on the bed.

I lie on the mattress, careful to keep my scar hidden from his view. My unbound hair spread on the soft pillows, I pant as I look up at him. The nipple he sucked on earlier puckers, feeling an extra chill.

My husband drops over me, his hands on either side of my hot face. His knees press into the spots next to my pelvis, caging me like he’s a panther getting ready to devour his prey. Sexual excitement sparks, and I labor to draw in air into my lungs.

“You look like a pretty princess ready to be ravished.”

“Queen,” I correct him, although my voice is breathless.

Amusement, nostalgia and something else I can’t fathom cross his gorgeous face. He gazes at my lips, my neck, my naked breasts before returning to my eyes. A tremor runs through me as I realize this is really about to happen. There’s a smidgeon of trepidation along with excitement. Is it going to hurt? Romance novels always say it doesn’t hurt, but I’ve also read the opinions of women on forums who say those books lie.

“Are you going to be fast and rough?” I whisper.

“No. It’s your first time.”

“You’re really hard.”

His mouth quirks. “It’s just because I like you.” He dips his head closer. The tips of our noses brush, and his heated breath fans my skin, sending a jolt through me.

He kisses me, lapping at my mouth like a soft knock, asking for permission to enter.

I part my lips, pull him inside. I cradle his cheek in an unspoken request to be gentle despite the need that’s clearly driving him, dig my other hand into his surprisingly silky hair, then glide it down to the back of his neck.

He kisses me patiently. A drug-like bliss unfurls. He caresses my neck, his thumb over my erratic pulse, as though gauging my reaction.

My senses spin. Air thins as I kiss him back more openly and chase his tongue with mine, driving into his mouth and taking the pleasure he’s offering. I twist on the sheet, wishing he’d do more.

His mouth on mine, he pushes the dress down. I lift myself to help, and the bunched clothes land on the floor, leaving me only in heels and a tiny thong. He slips his finger underneath the string, running it along my wet folds. Ecstasy shivers through me, but it isn’t enough.

I break our kiss. “Ares, I want you.”

The fire in his eyes suddenly burns brighter. The muscles in his jaw bulge, and his fingers twist the sheet. Is he losing control? I gaze up at him in anticipation, tinged with just a tiny bit of apprehension.

He pushes a finger into my slick depths. I gasp at the slight invasion, then squirm as he slowly moves in and out.

“You’re too tight.”

“Don’t tell me you’re too big to fit,” I say.

He laughs. “Baby, no dick’s too big to fit if the man knows what he’s doing. It’s a matter of making sure you’re ready and can enjoy it too.” He pushes another finger inside, then kisses the soft mounds of my breasts. The lazy thrusts feel so good—but so insufficient, much to my frustration. At the same time, the possessive way he latches on to a nipple and sucks arches my back, making me wish I could drive him as wild as he does me.

He lavishes attention on my other breast, then leaves a trail of burning kisses on my belly and below. He spreads my thighs with his shoulders and runs his tongue along my wet and overheated flesh. The strokes are searing; I twist and sob and beg. But he’s relentless as he adds a third finger to my pussy and devours me at the same time. He finds the spot inside me from before and strokes it with his fingers while licking my clit like it’s a tiny lollipop.

Lust overheats me, until even the soles of my feet seem to burn. “Please, please,” I pant, although I’m not sure exactly what I’m begging for. I just know Ares is the only one who can give it to me.

He continues to torment me with his mouth and fingers. I’m out of control. My pelvis moves to the rhythm he sets, and I’m desperate to relieve the unbearable tension tightening in my core. I grip his hair and grind against his face, need overcoming any inhibition or shame.

Ares growls in approval, and the vibration tips the scale. An orgasm rips through me, tearing a scream from my throat. Air shudders out of me as I pant on the bed, eyes closed, savoring the aftereffects of the blissful storm.

“That was beautiful,” he murmurs.

“That was great,” I say, then grin. “But you’re in too many clothes.”

He cocks an eyebrow.

“I want to see you.”

Heat flares in his gaze as he pushes himself off the bed and shrugs out of the jacket. A whisper of silk and it slinks unceremoniously on the floor. He unbuttons the vest, and it joins the jacket. The platinum and onyx cuff links drop with a carelessly elegant flick of his wrist before he turns his attention to the dress shirt.

With every button undone, more of his physique shows—the thick slabs of muscles on his chest, the ridged abs and the lean hips. He lets the shirt slither down, toes off his gleaming shoes and strips out of his slacks, socks and underwear, kicking them away like they’re rags.

His cock juts out, the round, plumlike head dripping. It’s much longer—and thicker—than I remember from Vegas. For a second, I wonder if my teasing remark about it not fitting might be somewhat prophetic.

But then he’s on me, kissing me like I’m the only drop of water in a desert. My nipples brush against his chest, the motion teasing my already hyperaware senses. I rake his back with my nails, my patience running low. The man knows how to drive me wild.

His cock presses against the slick flesh between my legs. It pulses like it has its own heart, and I rub against it, enjoying its erratic twitches and searing throbbing.

“Vixen,” he says.

“What you gonna do about it?” I grin. “I can still walk.”

He reaches for a condom in the nightstand, rips open the foil with his teeth and rolls the rubber down the length of his shaft. I reach out to trace the veins, but he pulls back. “Not now.”

I mock-pout, but he merely laughs and kisses me again, spreading my legs with his knees. A frisson of electric excitement shoots through me. Along with it comes an unshakable belief that he’ll make it good for me. He’s been generous, taking his time to prepare me, make me relaxed and feel amazing. I can’t imagine this part being any different.

He pushes in. His hips move gently as he shallowly thrusts, slowly going deeper. I cry out as my inner muscles stretch to the max, and then a sliver of unfamiliar pain cuts through the haze of pleasure like a shiv.

Hot tears slide from the corners of my eyes to my temples. I try to wipe them away, suddenly embarrassed at crying when sex was something I demanded. Didn’t I want to decide when, how and with whom I was going to lose my virginity? I’ve gotten what I wanted. Although the pain is sharp and shocking at first, it isn’t exactly unbearable.

He stops. “You okay?” he asks, his forehead touching mine.

I swallow, then nod. “I think so. Yes.”

“You sure?”

He’s fully inside me now, his breathing labored. From the beads of sweat popping on his hairline to the tendons standing out in his neck, it’s obvious he’s barely holding on to control. But if I say no, he’s going to stop, hold me in his arms and soothe me. I know it as clearly as my own name.

I lay a hand on his trembling cheek and run my thumb over his lips. “Kiss me so it won’t hurt.”

A hint of relief flashes across his face, quickly followed by a tenderness that melts my heart. He cradles my face with reverence, as though he’s holding the greatest treasure in his life, and fuses our mouths with a blissful sweetness that makes my heart skip a beat. He starts to move again with painstaking care, and I shove my fingers into his hair and continue to be lost in the kiss. He changes the angle of his pelvis with each thrust, some better than others… Until my vision whitens and I gasp against his lips with shocked pleasure.

He plunges into me a few more times, and my back arches at the unbearable bliss. What he’s doing to me shatters my mind. I wrap my legs around his waist, pleading for him to stop and continue at the same time. He lets out a triumphant laugh and drives me harder and faster.

“Oh—my—God—”

“Yes, my queen, yes,” he murmurs, his eyes glazed. He’s just as lost as I am, and I revel in the fact that we’re in this together.

An orgasm barrels into me like a locomotive. I scream, tightening my legs around him. Instead of letting go and joining me in the peak, he continues to drive into me, pushing me to another. I sob out his name, writhing, hoping to escape the grip of another orgasm, yet perversely hoping for it, too.

Ares gives no mercy as he propels me higher and higher, orgasm after orgasm spinning me out of control. When I don’t have the strength to hold on to him anymore and my fingers lose their grip on his sweat-slickened back, he rams into me, powerful and fast, and I shriek with another electric climax, my vision dimming. He wraps me in his arms, burying his face in my neck and groaning and jerking and grinding against me.

Feeling boneless, I start to fade away…then feel a gentle kiss on my forehead.

Later in the night, I hear Ares whisper in his sleep. “Don’t go, Queen.”