Mated to the god Ares
“Tell me to stop.”
Nyra’s back hit the cold stone wall, breath stolen as Ares loomed over her, shirt half-torn, his fingers already wrapped tight around her throat—not enough to choke, just enough to make her feel owned.
“I won’t,” she whispered, voice wrecked with anticipation.
In a flash, her legs were around his waist, and his mouth crashed into hers—tongue demanding, desperate, dangerous. His cock, thick and hard, rubbed against the soaked heat between her thighs, dragging through her slick folds with agonizing slowness.
“So fucking wet for a god you claim to hate.”
He didn’t wait for her sass. One brutal thrust and he was inside—stretching her, splitting her open like a blade through silk.
She gasped, nails digging into his shoulders.
“Fuck—”
“That’s right,” he growled into her neck. “Say it. Scream it. I want Olympus to hear what they’ll never touch.”
He fucked her like she was his battlefield. Each thrust was war—slamming into her with punishing rhythm, her body clapping against stone as her moans turned to cries. Her orgasm hit fast, violent, hips jerking, thighs trembling.
But he didn’t stop.
He flipped her over, bent her against the altar, ripped what little fabric remained. He growled as he slid back in—deeper this time, rougher, his hand in her hair, the other on her hip, dragging her back to meet every ruthless thrust.
“You think the gods want you?”
Smack—his palm landed across her ass. She yelped.
“They can beg. But your pussy’s mine now.”
She whimpered, melting under his touch, her second climax already building.
