Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

F RUSTRATION WAS EATING SOFIA alive. Every minute of the day had dragged, then the hours, and she'd felt a little as though she were treading water. It had never occurred to her that she might not see Ares that night at all, but having dined with Salvatore at a restaurant in town – Ares said we should go check it out, Salvatore had said casually – and returned to the palace just before eleven, Sofia's stomach had dropped to her toes, because clearly she was going to spend the night alone, in her luxurious palace guest suite.

And the thought filled her veins with ice.

She showered slowly, soaping her body until it was covered in foam then patting herself down with a loofah, rinsing off, and finally stepping out into a steamy bathroom and reaching for a thick, luxurious towel and drying off. She stood naked before the mirror and applied her face moisturizer, then rubbed a different cream over her body, ignoring the over-sensitised nerve endings courtesy of the way Ares had touched her in the forest. But she couldn't ignore the dark bruise like mark just above one breast, and another on her hip. As she ran her finger over them, memories pierced the present—recollections of the way his mouth had lingered there, sucking, teasing, and marking, almost as if to remind her, when they were apart, that on some level, a part of her belonged to a part of him.

It was an archaic yet accurate thought, and it spread a possessive kind of heat through her body. If she was his, then he was hers, too. Just for this week, but that didn't change the fact that they'd both been struck by a kind of lightning out there, and rather than getting burned by it, they'd managed to catch it with their hands and hold it alight between them.

At least, she'd thought they had, but if Ares was anywhere near as affected by this as Sofia was, then where the hell was he?

Wasn't he champing at the bit to pick up where they'd left off?

Hadn't he been driven crazy by need all day, too?

She strode back into her room and reached into her suitcase, removing a silk nightgown which fell to her ankles and had a lace detail at the top, pulling it on over her head and ignoring the way the silk felt against her nipples. As the fabric rustled down her body, a knock sounded at the door, so she startled, squawked, and reached for her robe, pulling it around her body before striding across the floor. All she could think—hope—was that Ares would be on the other side.

Disappointment spread through her when she pulled it open and saw not Ares, but a palace servant, formally dressed and holding a silver tray of tea and biscuits.

"Refreshments," the servant explained, as Sofia stepped out of his way with a small frown, watching as the plate was laid out. She was about to demur, to say she didn't need anything, when she caught sight of an envelope near the teapot, with her name handwritten across the front.

She'd never seen Ares's handwriting before, but something about the shape of the letters conveyed such decisive strength, she somehow just knew the envelope and tray had been sent by him.

Excitement trilled inside of her and she could barely wait until the servant had left before she was crossing the room and, with fingers that trembled slightly, peeling open the envelope and withdrawing a single piece of thick card. The top was embossed with a crown and beneath it was Ares full name, in a bold, serif font.

He had written:

S—

Meet me at the stables.

Beneath it, he'd drawn a little map, showing which exit of the palace to take and where to turn to find the building he meant. Her heart raced. She stared at herself in the mirror, contemplated getting changed, then staying in what she was in, unsure what was the right thing to do. On the one hand, she wanted to go to him as quickly as possible. On the other, she didn't relish the idea of being found wandering around in the palace in a nightgown and robe.

Modesty won out. She dressed quickly into a pair of flared pants and a fitted shirt, which she teamed with a lightweight jacket. Her hair she pulled over one shoulder and finger combed, not wanting to lose any more time by styling it.

Her knees shook as she made her way through the palace, his map in one hand. She exited the palace at the door he'd mentioned, nodding to one of the security guards there and hoping they weren't wondering at her random exploration. If they were, no one said anything. She followed the path, gravel crunching underfoot, magnificent gardens on either side of her, away from the palace. As she turned a corner, a large building came into sight. Not a little, dilapidated timber shape, as she might have supposed when imagining a ‘stable', but rather two stories, and modern. She approached it a little more slowly, scanning the place, wondering where to enter, before a light caught her attention and she gravitated towards it.

She stepped through the door and looked around, before calling, "Hello?"

She was careful not to say his name, in case this had been some kind of a mistake. She didn't want anyone to know what she was doing there, except Ares.

"I'm upstairs," his voice came to her from that direction. She moved quickly, holding the banister as she walked up, her heart racing as he came into view. Above the stables was an actual apartment, with a kitchen, bed, lounge room. It was all open plan, but also very well-appointed and luxurious. And standing near the kitchen, where a window afforded a view of the path from the palace—how he knew she was approaching, Sofia guessed—was Ares.

Her heart leapt into her throat even as indecision held her immobile. In the forest, she'd not hesitated, even once, about going to him. He had been hers and she'd been his. But here, there was a level of constraint she hadn't anticipated and certainly didn't want. Here, she felt a little lost.

Until he strode towards her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her roughly against his body and kissing her until she was groaning into his mouth and every single part of her was flush with need and heat.

"What took you so long?" she demanded, pulling away from him just long enough to ask the question, before her hands reached for his shirt and ripped it out of his pants, needing, after a whole day apart, to touch his skin with hers.

"I know," he agreed, without explaining. And he didn't need to explain, anyway. He was a King, and he'd spent four days in the wilderness with her. Of course, he had work to carry on with.

"It doesn't matter," she said, kissing him now, pressing the words into his mouth. "We're here."

"Yes, we're here."

And then his hands were pushing at her clothes with the same desperate need as hers, stripping her naked, piece by piece, just as she was doing to him, a frantic urgency underscoring every single part of their movements. Finally, naked, he lifted her up so Sofia could wrap her legs around his waist and he carried her effortlessly to the bed, placing her down with a reverence that was at odds with the way he proceeded to master her body, his weight heavy on hers, his touch demanding and commanding, effortlessly driving her to the edge of sanity and reason, teasing her, his hands touching every inch of her even when that same touch was setting her alight.

His mouth crashed down on hers, and his tongue lashed her sensitive flesh, her mouth first and then lower, taking her nipples in his mouth, one by one, flicking her with his tongue, sucking some more, so she knew that in the morning her skin would be marked. Just the thought of that made her heart soar.

He drew his mouth lower, to her sex, and just as he had that first night in the forest, and every night since, he used his incredible skills to bring her to the brink of orgasm. Only this time, rather than driving her over it, he held her poised on the edge of that precipice, with her pulse raging and her needs firing like darts through her bloodstream, so she cried his name again and again, the air heavy with the sound of need.

"Please," she begged, pushing up onto her elbows and staring at him, wildness in her features.

His eyes were darkly determined, glittering when they clashed to hers.

"This has been a long time coming," he said darkly, reaching past her to the condoms he'd placed on the bedside table. Her heart lurched with desperate need.

"Too long," she agreed, reaching for his length and stroking it with her fingertips. She was rewarded with his shuddering release of breath. Then, he was spreading the contraceptive down and nudging her sex with his tip.

"Ares—,"

He held himself above her, staring down into her eyes, and her heart skipped a beat, and then another.

"Don't hold back," she said, simply. "You have no idea how much I want this."

"You want to make a bet?"

He kissed her then, still pressed against her sex, so she spread her legs wider and lifted her hips, trying to draw him in. Ares though was teasing her even now, making her wait when it was the last thing she wanted.

"Please," she begged again, the word almost manic.

He cupped her face and held her still. "I'm scared of how much I want you." She was surprised because Ares seemed like a man who would fear nothing. "I'm scared of how much I want to own you, to make you mine, to mark you as mine." He ran his finger lower to her nipple and squeezed. "I have never felt that before. It's primal and I don't recognize this part of myself."

Her lips parted on a wave of surprise, and something else. Something explosively exciting, because it was all so different for her, too, and she was glad she wasn't alone there.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said, simply. "You must tell me if?—,"

She pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. "The only thing that's going to hurt me is if you make me wait a moment longer. Enough. I've waited long enough."

And this time, when she arched her back and lifted herself higher, he didn't fight her, but rather plunged his impressive length right into her, all the way, deep and hard, fast and ferocious, as though he'd been holding himself back with monumental effort but that dam had finally burst.

He thrust into her and stayed there, and she cried out because it was, as he'd said, a total, and utter possession.

Neither of them moved. They'd waited too long for this, had both needed it an excruciating amount, and now that he was inside of her, as deep as he could go, buried right up to his balls, and her muscles were squeezing around him, tight and tormenting, he was worried that too much friction would see him come straight away.

He hadn't known that kind of lack of control and stamina in a long time—if ever. And so he stayed there, giving them each a chance to draw breath and get used to this, hoping that the passing of time would make him feel less on edge, a little less good. Because this was the most exquisite sensation he'd known, and he wasn't sure he'd ever get enough of it.

He hated thinking like that, for many reasons, but it didn't matter. He couldn't help the knowledge that gripped him, the certainty that the chemistry he shared with Sofia was utterly unique.

She panted his name, and he started to move, her desperate plea that he not hold back reverberating through her, so he moved without restraint, taking her hard and fast, just as he'd longed to in the forest. And it didn't matter—she kept begging him for more, faster, her nails ripping down his back as he lost himself in her, his hands all the while running over her body, feeling her soft skin, her full breasts, his aching pleasure for her something he felt in every cell of his body. When she came, he held himself still, buried inside of her, but he brought his fingers to her sex and brushed her there, intensifying her orgasm until her head was thrashing from side to side and her cheeks were bright red. Her skin glowed with a sheen of pleasure, and he felt an ancient, animalistic pride in having been able to do that to her.

God, he wanted to come, then and there, but he wasn't ready to end this. He'd waited for what felt like a lifetime for her, and now that they were here, he intended to make it last. He wanted to see her come again and again, and more than that, he wanted to feel it. He liked the way her muscles had tightened around him; he loved the way her body had quivered as she rode that wave of pleasure.

He had no intention of stopping this yet.

"I am going to wear you out, Sofia," he promised. "You will not want to leave bed tomorrow if I have anything to say about it." Her eyes widened, and she reached up to trace his lips.

"Will you be in said bed?"

The idea had definite appeal. A whole day exploring her, tasting her, making the most of the time they had left… but, no. Ares couldn't give into that temptation. He wanted her, but he had a role to play.

"I can't. But I like the thought of you lying naked, waiting for me to return."

She gasped and bit down on her lip. He had no idea what she thought about that—he didn't even know what to make of it himself. That was not a normal sentiment for Ares. It was so uncivilized. So sensually demanding. And yet, it was definitely as he felt.

She bucked her hips, reminding him that he was still inside of her. Like he could forget.

He ground his own hips, immediately jerking at the sensational feelings she sparked, then dropped his mouth to her neck and nuzzled her there, grazing his teeth over her shoulder.

"I like the idea of you being my willing sex slave," he said, a gruff admission.

"Your stable maid?" she teased back, so he grinned and nodded.

"Definitely." But then he was moving again, staring down at her as he drove in and out of her in a way that he knew, by now, drove her crazy. And when she came, he watched her from above, committing every detail of her face to memory, to keep him warm on those nights when this was over. When she was back in London, and he was all alone in Moricosia, or worse, married to someone else.

The thought clouded his mind, threatening cold in the midst of this ravaging fire, so he ignored contemplating what his future held, and focused only on the here and now, on this wonderful woman who was temporarily a part of his life.

As her breathing slowed and then returned to normal, he dug his fingers into her hips, holding her steady, and she looked up at him with all the ferocious determination and concentration he'd shown a moment earlier, as though she too were mentally filming this night, saving it for later use.

"You make me feel amazing," she admitted, breathlessly, as her body moved beneath his and her skin flushed pink.

It was a sentiment that proved to be the ultimate aphrodisiac, and as soon as she'd said it, he felt himself tipping over the edge, pleasure like a bursting wave, a tsunami, that sucked him under then spat him hard and fast towards the shore, so he couldn't think of fighting it. He dropped his head into the crook of her neck and gripped her tight as wave after wave shuddered his body, and it was her name that was torn from his lips, almost like a plea to God. But for what, he couldn't say.

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, the X-rated direction of Sofia's dreams woke her, and she had a disconcerting few moments as she tried to work out where she was. And then, memories washed over her, one after the other. Ares taking her on this bed, until she thought she had no more pleasure left in her body—something he was clearly on a mission to disabuse her of, because after they'd snacked on a platter of cheeses and bread, naked on the floor, he reached for a condom then pulled her onto his lap, and while he sat on the floor, she rode him, the power of that its own sensual high, because she was in control, and he let her be. As much as someone like Ares could allow someone to be, anyway. He took her hips from time to time to hold her low on his arousal, or to change her speed, always to her benefit, but most of the time, he kept his head buried in her breasts, sucking on them, fondling them, weighing them with his hands, until she felt like the lightest touch there was going to set her pulse on fire.

Lying in bed, curled against him, his hand was a possessive band across her stomach, but of its own accord, his hand kept curling higher, his fingers finding her breasts even in sleep, so she moaned softly, wanting him again, despite how often they'd been together the night before. She didn't know if he was fully awake or not, but suddenly he moved, curling his other hand under her so it could take over the touching of her way too sensitive breasts, and the hand that rested on top of her could snake lower, finding her sex and teasing her there until stars filled her eyes and she almost lost her breath. Pleasure built inside of her, and when he pressed his rock-hard arousal to her back, to the curve of her buttocks, she pressed back against him, inviting him, needing him, wanting him to be everywhere inside of her and on her body, all at once.

"Please," she whispered, wondering how many times she'd said that word with him? She begged him as a matter of course, and she didn't even care. It was just physical, a rare, overpowering need to be with him, that meant nothing because, at the end of the day, they were two intelligent people who would never let their bodies run their lives. This was an aberration, made totally acceptable by the fact they both knew when and why it would end.

His hand between her legs moved faster, pushing thoughts from her mind, and he tugged on her nipples in a way that made her wonder if he was actually a sexual savant, because he seemed to know exactly what she liked, and how to give it to her.

But Sofia had been pleasured by him all night, and she wanted to drive him wild. She wanted to make him cry out with a sense of mindless pleasure, so she rolled over, with true regret, because his touch had been one of the closest things to perfection she'd ever known.

She kissed his chest first, his nipples, teasing them with her teeth before running her mouth lower, and lower, taking his arousal deep in her mouth, just like she had in the forest. She loved this—she especially loved how it affected him. She could tell he loved it, needed it, craved it, yet he never asked it of her. This was always something she initiated, and she liked that he saw a boundary there and wasn't willing to cross it.

She looked up his body, saw the way he was straining to hold onto his control and smiled against him. She didn't want him to hold onto his control though. She wanted him to lose it completely—and she wanted to know it was because of her.

"Do you like this?" she asked, running her tongue from his tip to his base, then back again.

"Sofia…" His voice held a warning.

"And this?" she asked, enclosing him with her mouth and drawing him all the way to the back of her throat.

He swore then, a guttural sound that was wrenched from his body.

"Put your hands on my head," she invited, her eyes sparking with his. "Show me how you want it."

"Sofia—," Back to warning. "Don't ask that."

"Show me," she said. "I trust you."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can." She took him deep again. "I can pull away if I need to."

He grunted and then, slowly, put his hands on her head, tangling his fingers in her hair, but he was so tentative when at first he pushed her mouth a little lower on his length.

She pulled away.

"Are you okay?" His concern for her ripped something in her chest, but she brushed it aside.

"I'm a big girl, and I'm telling you: I want this. Please," she asked again, so his eyes glittered when they met hers, and this time, when he pulled her face down over his length, there was no hesitation. He held her right there, deep and low, and she moved her tongue against him, so he barked her name into the room. Another shift, drawing her back to his tip, leaving her there, letting her breathe before he did the same motion, and her pulse went crazy as she tasted a hint of him in her mouth.

Each movement was perfection. She loved the way it felt to have him in her mouth, filling her up. As he took over, she moved a hand between her legs, touching herself in the space there that promised utmost pleasure, and he groaned, perhaps at the sight of it.

Another curse, and another taste of his salty essence, and then he was pulling her up his body, dragging her to his mouth and kissing her, his arousal so hard between them.

"I want to come inside you," he groaned. "Not here," he kissed her. "But here," and now it was his hand on her sex, so she whimpered at the possessive touch, as demanding as his hands had ended up being on her head, at her invitation.

He reached sideways, grabbing a condom and pressing it down with military speed and precision—an efficiency she sure as hell appreciated.

"But like this," he commanded, voice rough, as he positioned her on all fours and knelt behind her, spreading her legs with his own. He brought one hand around to her most sensitive cluster of nerves, the other wrapped over her breasts, teasing them, and he drove into her from behind, in a way that filled her up, utterly and completely.

He was rough and she loved it. He fitted her so perfectly, his touch was heaven. She cried his name out over and over and the faster he went, the more he touched, the deeper her orgasm became, so eventually, she was just riding a never-ending wave of pleasure and feeling, unsure if she'd ever be able to speak again because surely this was the equivalent of some kind of sexual lobotomy.

Afterwards, it was Sofia who swore, her voice hoarse, her face hot, her body sheened in perspiration.

"I don't know if I'll ever get enough of this," she said, falling flat onto her stomach, pleased that he came down with her, his weight on top of hers a connection she relished.

"We have a few days to try," he said, simply, and she told herself she was glad. That no matter how amazing things were between them in bed, it didn't change anything. This was temporary, meaningless, and in a few days, it would all be over. Just as they'd said all along.