Page 63 of Major Penalty

And God. He looks unreal.

His tattoos shift with every movement. His chest heaves, and his eyes lock on me like he’s watching something sacred, like he’s watching his own destruction.

“Look at me,” he commands.

And I do. His hand moves faster, and his mouth drops open. A sound tears from his throat as he finally comes. Hot. Heavy. All over my stomach.

It lands across my belly, marking me in hot, thick ropes. He groans, his head falling forward, black strands covering his eyes. I’m panting beneath him, still reeling from the aftershocks of my own orgasm.

Ares leans over me, one hand planted beside my head, the other still wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing the last drops out of him, dragging it over my skin like he owns every inch.

“That’s what you do to me, little thing.” His voice is breathless.

I can’t answer. But I believe him.

Because I can see it, I can feel it.

All over me.

Chapter sixteen

~ARES~

The city glows beneath me. Thousands of lights stretch endlessly, yet none are in focus. I couldn’t sleep.

Irene nearly passed out after I was done with her. So, I cleaned her up, loving the way my cum marked her body, and then tucked her under the covers. She was already asleep by the time I lay next to her. I couldn’t stop staring at her. I kept watching the familiar lines of her face, no longer wondering where I’ve seen her before. I’m almost convinced I made her up in a dream. Only, I know that’s not how it works. Your brain can’t make up new faces. It can only recreate ones you’ve seen. But she was right there, sleeping next to me, and that was enough.

Her lips were swollen, parted slightly, and her chest rose and fell with each soft breath. And I wanted to touch her. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to wrap her in my arms, squeeze her close, never let her go. Instead, I placed a kiss on her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, the corners of her mouth, and stroked her soft hair as she slept. I allowed myself to indulge in this moment with her, allowed myself to pretend I can be a man who gets to hold someone like her and who deserves to be held back.

The cigarette starts to burn between my fingers, so I take another drag. I barely remember lighting the damn thing. I just needed something to do, something to focus on other than what I left in that bed.

I exhale sharply, tilting my head back. My muscles are tight, and my body is still wired. I did everything I could to take my time, let her set the pace, and kept my control on a fucking leash—until I couldn't. I gave her the choice to stop, and she chose me. She came to me, touched me, and let me fuck her.

No, she let me be thefirstman to fuck her. And I should feel satisfied. I should feel like the same fucking man I was before she knocked on my door tonight. But I don’t. Because now, nothing feels the same.

I should’ve scared her away. Should’ve fucked her like I didn't care about her experience, so she'd run in the opposite direction when she saw me again. But I couldn’t. I want to be gentle with her as much as I want to tear her apart piece by fucking piece. Because she’s not them. She’ll never be like them. Even now, she’s in my bed, sleeping peacefully, trusting me. Like I’m something I’m not.

She’s different from what I thought she’d be. She's not the little naive girl I thought I could break. She’d could have turn away from me after what she saw. But she didn’t.

I exhale, and the smoke drifts into the night, but it doesn’t clear the fog in my mind. Doesn’t make the tightness in my chest go away. I’ve been fucking around for so long, telling myself I don’t need anyone, telling myself I’m fine being the way I am. But she’s making me question everything.

I know it’s the fear of her leaving that’s consuming me. That fucking hole in my chest. Everyone I’ve ever cared about has walked out on me. Yet, she’s awoken something else in me tonight.

Hope.

She makes me want to believe that she sees more than the person everyone threw away. That she mightwantto stay. That thought—it’s tiny, but it’s there. A small spark in my chest.

There’s a soft sound behind me. Not loud enough to startle, but enough to drag my attention like a hook through my spine.

I turn my head, and she's there, wearing nothing but my black T-shirt. The sleeves are too long, swallowing her arms in fabric, the hem going down to her mid-thigh. The thighs she let me between just hours ago. Spread open for me and only me.

She’s barefoot, and her hair is a mess, her face still flushed with the ghost of everything we did. There are remnants of makeup smudged under her left eye. And she’s never looked so beautiful. Because I did this to her. I put her in that state, and now she’s coming back to me, wearing my clothes.

Fuck.

I feel it instantly—the tension slithering up my back. My cock twitches under the loose hang of my sweatpants, ready for another round. And then another after that until she’s a shattered mess. The hunger curls tight in my gut as I watch her step out onto the balcony. I want to carry her right back into bed and fuck her until she can’t move.

“You should be sleeping.” My voice scrapes out of me like gravel.

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