Chapter 20 - Delaney

20

Delaney

“Must use this place for storage,” Ares mutters.

The door to the apartment is open behind us, white moonlight cascading in and elongating our shadows on the dusty floor. The place is cluttered with disused restaurant furniture: tables with missing legs and the tops of bar seats with vinyl so cracked that the stuffing spews out like the poplar tree fluff that floats in the air in spring time.

“Cozy,” I reply dully. I smooth out my dress, then tug at the straps. My skin itches in it now, the fabric chafing under my arms. There must be something wrong with it — it felt so comfortable before, made me feel pretty and confident, but now I can’t wait to tear it off and never put it on again.

I move around Ares. There’s an old lumpy couch, a dusty kitchenette and an open door that shows a tiled floor and the corner of a sink. There might not be electricity but hopefully there’s hot water.

“I’m going across the street to get our stuff,” Ares says from the doorway. There’s the clink of metal on something and I look behind me to see him leaving the switchblade on the kitchen counter.

“I’ll lock the door,” he says. “Stay inside and don’t go anywhere.”

“Okay,” I reply, turning away.

“I mean it this time, Delaney.”

I give him a thumbs up over my shoulder. Juvenile, I know, but my throat is getting tight and every word threatens to come out as a strained squeak. The door closes, the key scraping in the lock, and then I’m grabbing at my dress, pulling and tugging and tearing to get the thing off because I can’t wear it another fucking second.

I give up on the zip and just yank it over my head, but my arms get tangled and the dress covers my face, fabric folding over my mouth like a hand trying to silence me.

I can’t breathe. That guy grabbed in me in this dress. Stared at my tits in this dress. Ares rejected me in this dress. I need it off.

I jerk my elbows out sharply and am rewarded with the sound of seams ripping. The dress loosens and I manage to finally get it off. I throw it across the room, into some dark corner where it’ll stay.

“Idiot,” I say, staring at the pile of fabric on the floor. I’m an idiot for thinking that a dress would make Ares see me differently. That it would make him want me. Sighing, I turn for the bathroom.

I leave the door open, letting what little light there is outside filter in. The shower controls take a minute to find and I fumble blindly over the tile until I find them. The pipes shake and groan, but then clean, warm water gushes out and smacks loudly into the bottom of the tub.

“Thank fuck,” I mutter to myself as I peel off my underwear.

I fall silent as I tilt my face under the water, letting it wash away the sting of Ares’ rejection. Maybe it’s because I’m still kinda drunk, but my heart aches more than usual. It’s a tender, bruised feeling that pushes deeper into the core of me with every moment that passes.

I’m sorry, Delaney. I can’t.

He can’t, whatever that means. Can’t be with me, can’t love me, can’t treat me like a normal girl — because I’m not normal. I never will be.

A shuddering sob explodes from my lips and I collapse to the bottom of the tub. Everything’s gone wrong, right from the start.

Dad’s coming after me.

My plan didn’t work.

I’ve put Lilly in danger.

The thought of Lilly wrenches my heart open and a new round of tears mingle with the water pouring down on me. I wrap my hands around my knees and sit there, paralyzed. Like a loser. Like a failure. God, what would Mama think of me if she saw me now?

“Delaney? What are you— Shit.”

The tap squeaks off. Water gurgles down the drain, drips off my chin and the ends of my hair. Hands, big and warm, touch me hesitantly between my shoulder blades. Ares’ face bobs into my view as he crouches by the side of the tub.

“Can you hear me? Baby, look at me.”

Baby.

A thin sliver of pleasure twists like a tendril around me. Warms me up. I turn my head. Ares sighs, his jaw tight.

“I called for you. You didn’t answer and I— Fuck, I don’t know, I thought you’d climbed out the window or something. Instead you’re just… having a leisurely spa day?”

His mouth twitches at the joke, but there’s just sadness in his eyes. Pity.

“I’m fine,” I say. My voice sounds far away.

Ares shakes his head. He looks around, mutters something under his breath that sounds like ‘No fucking towels’ and retreats out of the room. As he leaves, the cold seeps in. Deep and icy. I start to shiver, my teeth chattering. And then he’s there again, folding something around me, helping me stand and then hoisting my naked body into his arms.

Slowly, as I nuzzle into his chest and breathe in the filth and sweat and blood that’s quickly becoming the smell I associate with Ares, I start to feel myself returning to the here and now. I thought I would be embarrassed or uncomfortable to be cradled like a child, completely naked and helpless, but instead — Shit, could this be turning me on? I’m so angry at him, and yet a low- down warmth sparks and spreads as Ares carries me into the other room.

“Come on, kid, you’re scaring me.”

“Not a kid,” I mumble. We drop, dust tickling my nose, and I realize that Ares has set me down on the couch, with me cradled in his lap. He adjusts something to cover my chest, one of his large black t-shirts, and smoothes back my damp hair. I must be getting his chest all wet, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” he replies, frowning down at me. There’s a huskiness to his voice. It vibrates deep in my chest. It’s a sound, a feeling, that makes my pussy ache with need.

“Taking care of me?”

“Because you need someone to take care of you,” he replies simply.

I take a deep breath, my spine arching into his hold. His arms tighten around me. “Then why won’t you… Why don’t you want me?”

Ares closes his eyes for a moment and lets his head drop back before looking at me again to answer.

“Delaney, what part of me being hard as a rock right now tells you that I don’t want you? You’re fucking perfect, okay?”

Oh. Oh, he is hard. His erection is pressing against my hip. I feel his heart thundering against my own ribs as I nuzzle closer to him.

“Then kiss me again,” I say.

Ares’ breath ghosts over my face. His tongue flicks out to swipe at his lower lip as his eyes — God, the path they trace over my face, down my throat, to the swell of my breasts... Then his eyes shutter and I know I’ve lost him.

“No.”

Anger pulses hot and bright, rivalling my arousal.

“Fine,” I snip, and I wriggle off his lap, filling the space on the opposite end of the couch. “Then you’d better leave because I’m upset and turned on and I feel like relieving a little stress.”

I shift back against the armrest and fling off the t-shirt he’d draped over me. Ares makes a startled noise, like he’s choking, and springs off the couch.

“Jesus Christ, Delaney,” he rumbles, swiping a hand over his face, maybe so he’s not tempted to stare at my nakedness. “You’re a fucking mess, you know that?”

I don’t think he means it unkindly and it curls my lips into a smirk. “I know,” I reply.

Ares grabs the shirt from the floor and throws it at me. “Put that on.”

“Why? You don’t want to see me touch myself?”

Ares is quiet for a long, heated moment. He finally looks at me, good and hard, raking over every inch of my exposed skin. I let my knees fall open and he inhales sharply, eyes glued between my legs.

“I want…” He swallows hard. “I want to see you touching yourself… while you’re wearing my shirt.”

I bite back my smile and pick up the shirt, slipping it over my damp skin. It’s big on me, obviously, but what I like even more is the fact that it’s his . I nod to the vacant spot on the couch.

“You gonna join me?”

Ares clears his throat and looks around the dim space. He grabs a chair and drags it to the center of the room. He’s too far for me to touch him, though I guess that’s the point. He settles down, spreading his meaty thighs and folding his arms across his chest, as if waiting for me to impress him.

I laugh. “You want a show, huh?”

“I want you to stop playing around. This is your one chance, Delaney, because this isn’t happening again.”

“Oh, so this is for my benefit? Got it. I’ll get started then.”

I take a deep breath and stretch out. I keep the hem of the shirt draped between my thighs, hiding what he’s already seen. My fingertips tickle the sensitive skin on my inner thighs and I slide them up, up, up — finally disappearing under the fabric.

“Pull it up,” Ares orders gruffly. I pause, surprised that he’s chosen to join in so quickly — or at all — but I happily comply. Lifting the shirt to my hips, I watch him watch me. My pussy is slick and warm and I tease myself slowly, playing with my clit and enjoying the added thrill of Ares’ focus.

The chair creaks as Ares shifts. “You ever…” He stops. Clears his throat. “You ever finger yourself?”

My stomach swoops. I nibble at my bottom lip for a moment, then lower my fingers to my entrance. “What, like this?” I ask, mockingly innocent, and then I push two fingers inside myself. I throw my head back. It stings sweetly, my body not quite ready for it, but I keep going, pumping languidly.

Ares lets out a caught breath. “Fuck…”

The room fills with the sound of my wetness. Should I be embarrassed? I’m not sure. All I know is that I feel desired and dirty in a way that makes me light up on the inside. I can feel myself edging towards an orgasm and I’m torn between chasing it and holding it off. I don’t want this to end, but God, I also want Ares to see me come.

“Lift the shirt, Delaney,” he says, taking charge of my thoughts.

I snap to him. His eyes are half-lidded and he’s shifted now, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees like he’s watching the most enchanting thing in the world. He tilts his head.

“You hear me? I said lift the fucking shirt. I want to see your tits.”

A shiver runs down my spine. His cruel, degrading tone sends a flood of wetness between my legs and I whimper in surprised delight. Rucking the t-shirt up over my breasts, I pinch the hardened peaks of my nipples.

“It feels… God, it feels so good, Ares. Want you to touch me like this.”

“No,” he snaps. “Keep fucking yourself on your hand. Tell me when you’re about to come.”

I smile, panting a little as I feel myself getting closer. “You want to give me permission?”

Ares exhales sharply through his nose. “Like you’d wait for my permission,” he says. “No, you need it too badly, don’t you? Greedy little slut.”

My answering groan is deep and animal. Yes, maybe I am a slut. Maybe I am what everyone thinks I am: a liar, a deviant, a bad, bad girl. Maybe it’s okay. Maybe it’s fucking perfect.

I touch my clit. Tingling pin-pricks radiate out. I try to keep my eyes open, to focus on Ares, but I’m too close.

“Ares… Oh, fuck, Ares—”

I go completely stiff, my mouth open in a silent scream as I come around my still fingers. The wave of pleasure pulses and fades slowly, leaving me twitching and sensitive. My eyes flutter open… Just in time to see Ares’ empty chair and the bathroom door click shut behind him.