Page 67 of Major Penalty

The soreness is not just between my thighs. It’s everywhere. My hips, my legs, my core, even my nipples from where his teeth grazed and his mouth sucked. It’s like my body’s still trying to catch up with what happened last night. And I feel every inch of it, every bit of him still on me, in me.

My lips tingle at the memory of how he kissed me, of how he whispered filth into my ear like it was prayer. I feel heat bloom across my cheeks.

I stretch, wincing a little as I push myself up. My muscles protest, but I feel the grin on my face. Because I know exactly where it’s coming from.

I sit up unhurriedly, the shirt I’m wearing falling over my thighs—his shirt. It still smells like him, a mix of soap, cologne, and a scent only Ares has.

I glance around the room, almost expecting to see him standing there. But no. He’s not in sight. It’s just me and a whole lot of “what now?”swirling around in my head.

I start to pull myself together, throwing a leg off the side of the bed, when I spot him. He’s out on the balcony, looking way too calm, reading a book like he’s waiting for me.

I freeze for a second, the soft morning light making him look ethereal and sinful all at once. He’s already dressed in a black T-shirt and pants, hair still damp from a shower. His tattoos shift as he turns a page, his muscles in his forearms flexing lazily.

And I just stand there for a second, watching him and not believing any of this is real.

Because that man out there, that lethal, tattooed, quiet storm of a man, was inside me just hours ago. I let him take my virginity while he held my throat and told me how tight I was… my cheeks immediately redden at the memory of all the obscene words he growled in my ear while taking me.

And now, he’s out there, reading a book like he’s not the reason I can’t walk straight right now.

I gradually move, like I’m afraid the floor is going to swallow me up and spit me back out. It’s hard to walk when you feel like your body is still figuring out how to live after being completely shattered.

The second I step outside, he looks up, his gaze pulling me in. His eyes flick over me, from my bare legs to the shirt that hangs off me, and then back to my face. His gaze lingers, heavy and calculated. And my stomach flips.

That look, the one that makes everything in me clench. He’s devouring me with his pale blue eyes.

“Good morning,” I say, my voice soft.

He doesn’t say anything at first; he just gives me a small, crooked smile.

Then he reaches up and grabs the collar of his shirt that I’m still wearing and pulls me down, right into him.

I gasp at the contact, a small wince following its wake. His mouth brushes mine, slow and warm, and the pain is forgotten. I melt into his soft kiss.

“I have morning breath.” I giggle against his mouth and pull away from him. His eyes flash hot, and before I can say another word, he leans back in and kisses me again, deeper and slower.

I try to pull away, try to tell him that I need to brush my teeth and go change. He doesn’t let me. Because in the middle of the kiss, while his lips are still pressing into mine, he pushes something into my mouth with his tongue. I freeze when I realize what it is.

His gum.

My eyes fly open as he pulls back just an inch, looking at me like what he just did is the most natural thing in the world.

My body floods with heat, and I feel myself clench again. I'm already getting wet and haven't even recovered from the night before.

His eyes are soft, almost tender in that twisted Ares Black way.

“There,” he murmurs, his voice low.

He leans back, and just the sight of him, his chest rising and falling with each breath, the way his muscles tense when he moves, that cocky smirk, makes it impossible to stay focused.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, reaching out to stroke my thigh with his free hand. The contact sends waves of nerves through my body straight to the soreness between my legs.

“Um,” I hesitate, unsure if he’s asking about how I feel or how my body feels. Both answers are:surreal. “It hurts a little,” I say, feeling my cheeks flush.

His eyes darken slightly, a hint of possessiveness flashing behind his gaze. He leans closer, his voice low and rough.

“Good pain or bad pain?” His tone is raw, so full of the kind of wicked things he can’t even be bothered to hide.

I swallow hard, my pulse quickening at his words, and I can’t stop thinking about how everything felt, how he felt.

---