“Ugh, I can’t. Hang on, okay, I’m forwarding it to you.”
Ares, over three thousand miles away in London, chuckles on the other end of the phone.
“My my my. All that tough talk, and you’re too chicken to—”
“Don’t be a dick.”
I grin as I say it. This flirty, barbed banter between us is something I’ve come to look forward to throughout my day. Mostly it’s in person, of course. Over breakfast, or coffee. When we meet up for lunch. At night over dinner, or while watching something on TV.
In bed, in between him making me explode with his mouth, or fingers, or cock.
Currently, though, and until tomorrow, our banter has only been over the phone. Ares is in London checking in with his brother Deimos, making sure the Drakos operations over there are running smoothly. I was invited—nearly thrown over his shoulder and physically hauled to his private jet—but unfortunately, I’ve been stuck here tackling midterm exams. Specifically, my dreaded Urban Policy exam.
My mark for the exam was emailed yesterday, and the message is currently sitting still unread in my inbox. Because he’s right: for all my tough talk, I’m freaking out too much to open it. Which is why I just forwarded the email from Professor Martell to Ares to read for me.
“Please? Just open it. Put me out of my misery.”
“You know you aced it.”
“I don’t! Which is why I’m begging you to pretty please just—”
“Okay, okay. Hang on.” He clears his throat. “Okay, got it.”
“And?!”
Ares chuckles. “Let me read—oh. Okay…”
He exhales slowly. I wince.
“Well?”
“Bad news.”
My stomach drops.
“Are you fucking kidding me?! How bad is it?”
“Oh, sorry, I meant bad news as in you’re going to have to admit I was right. You aced it. Ninety-seven fucking percent.”
The air whooshes out of my lungs as I literally drop to my knees on the living room rug.
“You absolute asshole!”
Ares cackles, which makes me grin. Because I’m a huge dork.
And because I’m apparently falling completely in love with my fake husband.
Oops.
“You’re serious?!”
“Yes, I’m serious. Open it yourself if you don’t believe me. Ninety-seven percent. Oh, it also says you got the best grade in the class, too.”
I beam, pulling up the email on my phone and staring at it. He’s right. I got the highest freaking grade in the class.
Suck a fart, Candace.
“Holy shit!”
He chuckles. “I’m so proud of you.”
A devious smile curls the corners of my lips.
“Proud enough that you’re getting on the plane right this second to come home?”
He groans. “I wish. Except I’ve got this sit down with the Italians tonight with Deimos. Tomorrow, though, I’m all yours.”
I grin.
“And I’m all yours.”
“I know you are.”
After we say goodbye and I hang up, I’m sitting on the couch trying to figure out what to do with myself when my phone rings again. This time, it’s Callie.
“Hey—”
“Congratulations!”
My brows arch. “About?”
“About your Urban Policy midterm! Best in the fucking classssss, baby!”
I blink. “Wait, how do you—”
“I just called Ares about something else and he spilled it.”
My lips curl up in a goofy grin. “He did?”
“Gushed about it. You two make me sick.”
I blush, rolling my eyes.
“So, what are we doing tonight?!”
“Congrats!!” I hear Eilish scream in the background.
I grin. “Where are you guys?”
“Driving through midtown. Traffic sucks,” Callie groans. “But, definitely clear your schedule tonight.”
“Because?”
“Because we’re celebrating, dork.”
I laugh. “Fine. So long as we don’t end up super sloppy drunk in a club in Brooklyn this time.”
I can hear her and Eilish muttering to each other before Callie clears her throat.
“No promises. Just clear tonight, okay? And congrats again!”
“Okay, just a little further.”
I swallow, my face flushed as Eilish and Callie guide me out of an elevator and down a hall. The blush is for two reasons: one, because I’m excited and a little nervous about where they’re taking me. It’s been wonderful being able to go back to class and pretty much go where I want the last three weeks. But, there’s still this prickly, uncomfortable feeling sometimes when I go out. Like I’m being followed, or watched.
Aside from the tails Ares has on me that he thinks I don’t know about, that is.
But I know that feeling is just my own trauma from fifteen years ago. And I know it will go away.
The second reason I’m flushed, though, is outrageously embarrassing, and I’d never tell Callie and Eilish in a million years. But the truth is that these days, thanks to Ares, the feel of cloth over my eyes, or of silky rope on my wrists and ankles makes me excited.
Aroused.
Turned on.
Fuck you, Pavlov.
“Okay, for real, where are we?”
Eilish giggles, pulling my arm and leading me further into…wherever we are. After picking me up from the penthouse, the two of them slapped a blindfold on me and then drove me around for at least half an hour. We could be in New Jersey or flipping Connecticut by now, for all I know.
“Okay, we’re here.”
I hear a door unlock and swing open. Then, utter silence. Even around the edges of the blindfold, I can tell we’re walking into pitch darkness.
“Okay, seriously, where—”
Eilish suddenly yanks the blindfold off. The lights flick on blindingly, and I practically jump a foot in the air when a crowd of people scream “SURPRIIISE!” at me.
“Fuck!”
I shudder, gulping in air and forcing my heart down out of my throat. Then I blink, grinning as I stare at the crowd of familiar faces beaming at me—Cillian, Castle, Hades and Kratos, and a whole crew of people from my Urban Policy class.
Then I blink again and realize that for all the driving around with a blindfold on, I’ve barely gone fifty feet from the penthouse.
I’m across the street, in my old apartment.
It’s devoid of furniture except for a few chairs and sofas: the whole place has been set up like a club. String lights are draped across the ceiling. Music thuds from speakers. There’s even a freaking smoke machine covering the floor with fog as pulsing lights pump in time with the music—Madonna, of course.
I look around and laugh when I realize my old kitchen counter has been turned into a bar, complete with a grinning Jack from The Banshee pouring drinks behind it.
Cillian smiles as he steps in to give me a hug and a congratulatory kiss on the cheek. So do a broody Hades and a truly excited-looking Kratos. A bunch of my classmates come over to gush about my highest grade. Castle, of course, fucks up my hair.
“Congrats, kid.”
It’s all amazing. Except the one person I’d most love to be celebrating with tonight can’t be here.
Because he’s in London.
But then Eilish, Callie, and a few other of my classmates drag me out onto the dance floor, and before I know it, I’m lost in the fun. At a certain point, I pull away and head over to the kitchen bar. Jack gives me a weak smile as he passes me a cocktail.
“Hey, I just wanted to say, I’m so sorry about all that bullshit with Mike and Greg.”
My brow furrows as that particularly unpleasant memory surfaces. But I shake it off.
“It’s fine—”
“It’s really not.” His mouth twists. “Neve, I’m not just saying this because of who you’re married to. I mean, I’ve known you for years. Like, I just thought they were kind of frat boy trust fund type regulars, you know? I had no idea—”
“Jack, it’s fine. Really.”
Jack shakes his head.
“Well, fuck them both. I’m done with them, and they’re blacklisted from The Banshee, I promise you that.”
I grin. “You drinking tonight?”
“I could be persuaded? Maybe?”
“Then let’s cheers to moving on. No hard feelings.”
He grins as he pours a shot for himself and clinks it to my cocktail.
“Cheers. And thanks, Neve.”
An hour or two and a couple drinks later, I’m having a blast. All of us are. And it feels like more than just a celebration for me doing well on a test. I look over and see the way Hades is grinning with Castle—the way my sister and Callie are dancing their asses off. The way even Cillian looks strangely at ease, sitting off by himself sipping a whiskey, completely relaxed.
This isn’t just honoring my midterms results. It’s a collective breath of fresh air after the whole Seamus thing. It’s a celebration of the fact that our two families are actually stronger and better together than we were as enemies.
And as I look around, I sigh with happiness when I realize what that feeling is I’ve got in my chest.
Hope.
My phone dings. I slide it out of my bag and grin when I open the text message.
Ares: congratulations, wife
Me: why thank you, husband
I grin even wider when I hit send. I like typing that word: husband. I like saying it, too.
Ares: sorry again I couldn’t be there
Me: don’t be. You’ve got work, I get it
Ares: having fun I hope?
Me: loads. The whole crew is here. They even got Jack to play bartender
There’s a momentary pause before he responds.
Ares: I don’t like you near him
I roll my eyes.
Me: and cue the possessive growly husband routine. Jack’s harmless, I promise
Ares: we might disagree on that
I bite my lip. But then I start to type out the message anyway, knowing it might have consequences.
Actually, I’m hoping it does.
Me: you know, this jealous/possessive thing is actually kind of a turn on. I should tell you about the men I hang out with more often…
Ares: for their sake, perhaps you shouldn’t
My core clenches. Goddammit, it really is hot when he gets like this.
Ares: and for the sake of your ass
I grin impishly.
Me: and what should my ass be worried about?
Me: specifically
Ares: being bent over my knee with your panties pulled down to your knees while I spank the fuck out of it until your soaked pussy makes a mess of my slacks
Fuck.
I’m wet. Instantly. Which of course means I’m going to provoke him even more. Because between the drinks, the dancing, the adrenaline, and now dirty texts with him, by now I’m on fire.
Me: is that all? And here I was worried
Ares: careful
Me: of?
Ares: you think you’ve seen my limit of what I’ll do to you. You’ve barely fucking cracked the surface
I shiver heatedly.
Me: so, the further threat to my ass is words and talking a big game? Noted
His response comes so fast that my pulse skips. And when I read it through, it skips again as heat pools between my thighs.
Ares: the further threat to your ass is me putting you on your knees, hands bound behind your back, and fucking it until you can feel me in your throat
My eyes bulge. My skin tingles everywhere. My panties grow damp. Fuck. Why is that so outrageously hot?
After a few seconds, when I can think straight again, I respond.
Me: big talk
Ares: big cock. I hope your ass is ready for it
I shiver, panting as I grin at the glow of the phone.
Me: I want you so badly
Ares: I know
Me: tomorrow seems forever away
Ares: such an eager, good little girl
Me: stop
Ares: oh am I making you wet at your own party?
Me: seriously fucking soaked
Ares: show me
I flush deeply, shivering, but I don’t respond yet.
Ares: show me how wet I make that little pussy
“Hey! Who are you—oookaaay. WOW.”
I jolt, whirling and blushing like mad when I see the look of shock on Eilish’s face. Her eyes are wide.
“I didn’t see anything. I swear.”
My face burns like the sun as I cringe, eying her. Because it’s clear she saw at least the last few lines of my filthy exchange with Ares.
Eilish blushes too. “Okay, maybe I saw a peek.” She grins. “So…I guess things are getting pretty serious with your husband?”
I snort an awkward, embarrassed laugh.
“I guess maybe you could say that.”
She beams. “For what it’s worth, I really like him.”
Heat simmers in my core.
“Me, too.”
“What are you guys doing over here?” Callie blurts as she joins us on the couch.
“Just Neve sexting your brother.”
“Am not!”
Callie snorts and makes a face. “Eww! Gross!”
“You totally are,” Eilish giggles before turning to Callie. “And hey, girl, you asked!”
“And I’m extremely sorry I did,” Callie shudders. “C’mon, let’s dance!”
They start to drag me back to the dance floor. But I pull away for a second to go back to my texting.
Me: sorry I’m being pulled back to dancing
Ares: try not to drip down your thigh
Me: says the man who got me all wet
Ares: guilty
Me: have fun at your dumb meeting. I’ll just have to find someone else to dance with now
I know I’m pushing it. And I love the thrill it gives me.
Ares: if you go anywhere near Jack, I swear to fuck, I’ll fly there right now and put him through the fucking window before I fuck you senseless on the nearest surface in front of everyone
Heat throbs in my core.
Me: promise?
I finish with a winky face for good measure.
It’s past one in the morning by the time we finally call it quits. Cillian and Castle are long gone when Hades and Kratos help Callie, Eilish, Jack, and I usher everyone out of my old place. My sister and Callie walk me across the street and say their good nights at the front door. Then, I’m alone as the elevator takes me up to the penthouse.
I’m still buzzing from the drinks and all the dancing when I step out into the dark apartment. The lights of Manhattan gleam through the walls of windows as I kick my heels off and pad across the floor to the bar cart for a nightcap.
My hair is sticking to my face and my skin still glistens with sweat from all the dancing. I grin as I sip my whiskey and look out over the city that never sleeps. It was a perfect night. Again, the only thing that was missing was—
I gasp, dropping the glass to the carpet and crying out as I’m grabbed from behind. My shriek is muffled by something that has been stuffed into my mouth as I’m hauled back and tossed face-down on the couch.
Every nerve in my body screams. I’m about to try and fight for my very life when I realize something.
My mouth has been stuffed with lace.
It’s a pair of my underwear.
And the powerful, masculine grip pinning me to the couch has a scent to it that I know all too well.
I whimper, going still as Ares shoves my skirt up and yanks down my panties, bending me across the arm of the couch. He roughly shoves his hand between my legs.
“Let’s see if you’re still fucking wet for me.”
Spoiler alert: I am.
Very much so.
He groans as his fingers stroke my slippery lips before sinking two of them into me. I shiver, moaning into the gag as I hear his zipper and belt. His palm spanks my ass hard, making me yelp as he keeps fingering my dripping wet pussy—the wet sounds mixing with the sting of his palm on my ass until I’m aching for him.
“This is what happens when you tease a man like me, wife.”
He grabs a handful of my hair as he slips his fingers from my pussy. I moan into the panties as I feel the huge, swollen head of his cock line up with my entrance. He growls, ramming into me with one powerful stroke that pushes me up onto my tiptoes. I whine in pleasure, gasping as he grabs my wrists and pulls them to the small of my back.
And then, my dark, dangerous, gorgeous husband proceeds to fuck the absolute shit out of me. One hand stays tangled in my hair while the other keeps pinning my wrists to my back as he pounds me against the arm of the sofa. His big, beautiful cock drives in and out of me, filling the penthouse with lewd wet slapping sounds as I cry out in ecstasy.
His hand leaves my hair and his palm slaps against my ass. His heavy balls bounce against my clit as his abs pound against my lower back. And suddenly, the whole night of being turned on by him explodes. I scream into the lace as I start to come, the orgasm ripping through me. I can feel myself squeezing and clamping down around his thickness until he groans and buries every inch inside of me.
His hot cum spills into me, his hands gripping me so tightly I know he’ll leave delicious marks on my skin. He holds us there, both of us shaking and gasping for air before he gathers me into his arms.
I turn, kissing him madly as my legs wrap around his waist. He groans, kissing me back and lifting my ass. His cock centers, sill hard as he drives into me once again and carries me down the hall to the bedroom.
“You came home,” I murmur, moaning as I hungrily taste his mouth.
“I’ll always come home to you.”
We both freeze, halfway through the door to the bedroom. Our eyes lock and something wordless passes between us—something we’ve both been dancing around for weeks: the fact that this whole thing has become so much more than it was ever supposed to be.
A lot more.
And I’m very, very okay with that.
