Page 17 of Major Penalty

My stomach clenches. My breath locks.

And then I fucking break.

I come hard. My body locks up, every muscle drawn tight as I spill across my stomach, pleasure crashing into me.

The orgasm slowly subsides, and I groan like I just lost my goddamn mind.

And maybe I have. Because the last time I jacked off over the mental image of someone was in high school.

I lie there. Panting. My heart pounding, skin hot, and head full of her. Still her. Always her. I swipe a hand down my face, frustrated, fucking disgusted. Because I know it’s not enough.

I have to see her again soon. And then I’ll have to eventually sit there in that exam room and let her put her hands on me and pretend like I haven’t spent every waking second thinking about ruining her. Like I didn’t just jerk off to the thought of having her.

I squeeze my eyes shut before pushing myself up and heading for the bathroom. I clean up the mess, but I can’t scrub her out of my fucking head.

Christ.

Chapter seven

~IRENE~

I’m dreaming. Somehow, I know I’m dreaming, but it feels so real. A heavy weight presses me down, locking me in place. Strong fingers wrap around my wrist, pinning it above my head. I can’t move. Even if I could, I don’t want to. A warm breath skims my cheek. A voice, deep and dangerous, murmurs against my ear.

“You should be more careful where you put your hands, little thing.”

A shudder rolls through me. My stomach flips, and heat spreads like wildfire under my skin. His body shifts over mine, pressing me deeper into the mattress. Heavy. Unyielding. Everywhere. I try to speak, but nothing comes out.

His grip on my wrist tightens—not hard, just enough to make my pulse spike again. His other hand moves lower, slow and cruel. It skims down my ribs, over my stomach, fingers brushing the edge of my sleep shorts.

My body reacts before my mind does. My back arches, my thighs press together, a quiet, needy sound slipping from my throat.

I don’t recognize myself. I’ve never felt this before. I’ve never wanted anything like this before. Ares’ breath is hot against my skin. His lips are right there.

Hovering over my throat. My jaw. My mouth. He’s going to kiss me. I feel his fingers dip lower. And then—

I wake up.

My body jerks, a sharp inhale punching from my lungs. Everything is hot. Too hot. My skin is burning up, a thin layer of sweat covering it. I blink at the ceiling, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. My pulse pounds between my legs, deep and aching. My thighs clench, my walls squeezing around nothing.

Oh my god.

I swallow. My throat is dry; my skin is damp, and my stomach is tight. I reach up, pressing trembling fingers to my lips. They’re parted and hot. Like I just woke up from being kissed senseless. Like I just woke up from something more.

I squeeze my eyes shut, humiliation flooding through me. I’ve never had a man touch me before like that. So why does my body seem like it knows exactly how it would feel? Why does my skin still tingle where I imagined him touching me? Why is my heart still racing like I just barely got away?

I’ve always played it safe.

The one who followed the rules, skipped the parties, and never stayed out past curfew.

I did what was expected of me. What was smart. What kept things simple.What was safe. And honestly? There was something comforting about it. No risk. No drama. No heartbreak.

Just...safety. My nice, quiet little bubble.

But Ares?

Ares is the opposite of safe. He’s the wild, untamed edge that calls to me. The flashing red warning sign I want to touch. Every time I’m near him, it feels like I’m seventeen again—standing at the edge of something I know I shouldn’t do…except now, I really want to cross the line.

It’s reckless. It’s stupid. And I can’t stop thinking about him.

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