Come Here, Kitten (God of War Book 1), стр. 30

My gaze dropped, and I immediately regretted everything I’d said to him. I shouldn’t have told him that I wanted him so soon. When he found out about me, he wouldn’t want me. He’d take what he needed and toss me out.

Part of me wanted to tell him about the stone so bad, to just get the hurt over with sooner rather than later, but I couldn’t get the words out. My mouth was dry, my throat closed up.

“I want you,” I whispered, feeling him press himself harder into me. I wanted every single inch of him, could only imagine him just sliding into me until his hips bucked against mine. It was all that I had been able to think about these past few days, and I both loved it and hated it.

Catching him in a moment of weakness, I pushed my hands into his chest and shoved him away. “But not now. I’m too dirty.”

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer. “I like dirty.”

After glaring into his eyes the hardest that I could, I opened the bathroom door. “Well, I don’t.”

Walls made of white marble, a glass shower door, and a tub big enough for two perched in front of a grand window, the bathroom was bigger than my room back home. I fumbled with the shower and turned it on.

Ares leaned against the counter and smirked. “Clean yourself then, Kitten. I can wait.”

I arched a brow at him, letting the steam from the shower fog up the door. “Okay, well, can you”—I nodded toward the bedroom—“leave?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, eyes turning playful. “No.” He tilted his head. “I told you that you weren’t leaving my sight. Now, can you undress yourself, or do you need my help?”

I gnawed on the inside of my cheek, my heart racing. It was just a shower. It wasn’t like he’d get inside with me and thrust me against the wall, the water dripping down his bare chest, his canines …

“I can do it myself,” I said.

After turning toward the shower, I took a deep breath, fully aware that he was watching my every move, and lifted my shirt over my head. I tossed it in his direction, hoping it would smack him right in the face and hinder his eyesight while I stripped my pants and hopped into the shower.

The water seared my skin, and I stumbled back out. “Goddamn it!” I covered my chest with my hands, stood outside of the shower, and lowered the temperature of the water.

Goddess, what was wrong with me? I should be angry with him. I should hate him. I should not want him in any sort of way … yet I couldn’t stop.

As the water cooled off, he stared right at me, his eyes dancing with excitement. Hair tousled, arms crossed over his chest, shirt suddenly off. My wolf purred for him, wanting him to touch us the same way he was staring at us. Passionately.

I narrowed my eyes and stepped back into the shower, letting the water run down my body and slowly—very slowly—peeling my arms away from my chest. I grabbed the bar of soap and the loofah hanging from the shower caddy.

It smelled like him.

Call me nasty, but I wanted to drag it all over my body. I wanted his scent on me, to soak into my skin, to become a part of me. I lathered the loofah in soap and rubbed it against my chest, scrubbing off the blood and letting the soap drip between my breasts. I brushed it over my shoulders and down my stomach and up my thighs.

Staring at me from the sink, Ares growled and rested a hand against the front of his pants, stroking his hard cock through them. I let the soap run down my abdomen and dip between my hips, roll down my legs.

Without any shame, he pushed his hand into his pants, touched himself, and groaned while he watched me. I clenched, my cheeks flushing and my pussy throbbing, and furrowed my brows together.

I wanted him in here with me.

I pushed a hand between my legs, touching my folds, and slowly rubbed my clit for him.

This was so wrong, but it felt so right.

Pleasure surged throughout my body. He pushed down his pants, his hard cock springing out of them, and walked toward the shower. Opening the door, he stepped under the water and shoved me against the wall.

With his hand around his cock, he stroked it back and forth, making me tighten. It was so fucking big, so thick. I placed both of my hands on his abdomen, unable to wait for him to be inside of me.

It was more than want or desire. It was need. Pure, innate need.

“I didn’t tell you to stop touching yourself,” he said, placing my hand back on my clit. “Rub your pussy until you come for me.”

My pussy clenched. “Ares,” I breathed out, closing my eyes.

He snatched my chin in his rough hand and growled. “Your eyes should be on me, Kitten. You will come, staring at me. Thinking about me. Feeling me.”

Heat rushed to my core. The tension was building so quickly. I rubbed my fingers against my swollen clit and whimpered, “Ares, please.”

“Faster.”

My fingers moved faster, the pressure rising still. He rested his forehead on mine, beads of water dripping from his dark hair, and stroked himself. It was so close to my entrance, so close to just slipping inside of me and filling me completely.

I reached for his dick with my other hand, needing to feel it, but he pinned my wrist to the wall.

“Please, let me touch it,” I begged.

“Not until you come.” He sucked my bottom lip between his teeth, trailed his hand down my arm to my chest, and cupped one of my breasts. “After you come, I want you on your knees for me, taking my cock down your throat.” He groped my breast harder, rolling my nipple against his palm.