Aphrodite's War (17 page)

I shouldn’t be doing this.
“Adrian.” Poetry searched the lines in his features. “Are you sure this
is alright?”

“I am,” he said, his voice low and husky. “Isn’t this what a real lover
would do?” His lips grazed her throat along her jaw line to her ear. “Say
yes.”

She couldn’t let it go this far. Sleeping with Adrian wouldn’t work out.
They came from different worlds and could never be more than friends,
and even that seemed unlikely. No matter how good it felt right now she
had to say no.

“Yes.”

Even in the shade of the late day and the overcast sky Poetry could
see the mischief Adrian intended as he peeled her underwear off and
pulled the dress over her head. He smiled like a predatory cat before
trailing hot kisses along her neck. She trembled as he branded her
nipples, her belly button, the tribal tattoos on her abdomen and…

Oh. Oh God.
Her other piercing. The most private one.

He draped her legs over his shoulders, fully exposing her. He explored
with his fingers, playing with the golden circle.
“Hmm…”

What an odd sound, one of wonder. Poetry guessed he’d never seen a
labia ring before. She forgot her self-conscious body issues. She forgot to
think of anything at all. She squirmed as he learned how to make her
whimper and sigh.

Poetry’s senses faded until she knew only Adrian’s touch. She tried to
steady herself. The rising tide of pleasure had her grasping for
something, anything, to hold on to. Canisters and spices toppled and
clattered. The reek of dill saturated her nostrils.

But oblivion approached. She vibrated with anticipation. Her entire
body clenched in expectation.
Adrian stopped. He rose to his feet, face glistening with her stickiness.
He held her gaze, licking her cream from his fingertips.
“Tell me you want this, Poetry,” he said. He leaned in and she tasted
her saltiness in his kiss. “Say you want me.”
I can’t, she thought. Not with him. But she couldn’t stop. Every
nerve ached.
“I…” She wrapped her calves around Adrian’s damp shorts and put
her arms around him. “I want…you.”

He wasted no time carrying her to his room. He navigated by
memory; his gaze never wavered from her. His smile didn’t fade, not
even when he dropped her to the edge of the bed. Shorts and shirt hit the
hardwood floor with a wet plop. His sleek muscles flexed in the gloom.
His thick penis bobbed toward her, proudly erect.

Adrian produced a condom from a dresser and eased the lubricated
latex over his cock with care and attention. It thrilled her even more. She
looked forward to that kind of sensual consideration, something she
hadn’t had for a long time.

He didn’t disappoint.

He spread her knees and mounted her. She shuddered when he
entered, but not from pain. A shockwave of rapture raced through her
limbs with each slow stroke until he filled her.

He paused. Poetry listened to the sound of her ragged breathing
mingling with the drumming of the rain. She couldn’t bear anymore.
Why was he making her wait? Why didn’t he just…

“Adrian.” Was that her? She’d lost control of her words. “Please,
Adrian.”
He smiled down at her. “Yes.”
He coaxed her into a sitting position, and she opened to him like a
morning bloom.

Her body responded quickly. She cried out as his thrusts elevated her
to new levels of intensity. They rocked together in endless gratification,
voiced in grunts and murmurs.

She delighted in this sweating dance that made her float dangerously,
always gracing the edge of the abyss.

He rolled her over. Poetry braced against the mattress, galvanized as
Adrian quickened the pace. The music of flesh smacking on flesh
heightening her need. He reached beneath her, massaging her sex until
primal, graceless shouts filled the room.

She dropped to her elbows, unable to stabilize herself any longer. She
clawed the covers, wriggled into each tap of his scrotum against her
clean-shaven folds.

So close. She wanted to feel him all over her. Wanted to watch him
come. She switched to her back and pulled him inside.

Poetry bucked with every plunge, desperate to take his entire length.
The pungent smell of sweat saturated every struggling breath until her
head swam.

Finally her senses exploded and a raw shriek tore from her throat. She
arched her back, pressing her nipples into his chest. She cried. She
moaned. She gasped for air, and Adrian pushed deeper as her body
throbbed.

Poetry squeezed her eyes shut, savoring the sliding weight of Adrian’s
groin and the after burn of giddiness as he collapsed on top of her. But
only for a moment.

He climbed off with a self-satisfied laugh. His sudden absence made
Poetry long for his return, but she didn’t have the energy to reach for
him.

They lounged in the quiet. Poetry inhaled the scent of sex and rain,
counting seconds as thunder roared miles away. In spite of her
fulfillment, she wasn’t complete. Poetry studied Adrian’s profile.
“You didn’t come,” she said.

“I need a break.” Adrian seemed winded. “But you had an orgasm,
right? That’s the important thing, isn’t it?”
Adrian’s erection remained unspent. His breathing slowed. Poetry
smiled, feeling passion and purpose return.
“It’s not the only thing. Now it’s your turn.”
She shimmied down his torso, planting kisses down his sternum to his
stomach until she nuzzled the golden hair surrounding his cock.
Time to show him what her tongue piercing could do.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Adrian awoke with his neck stinging. He raked at his collarbone as he
shot up in bed. Something fell and hit his closet door, metal against
wood. Late morning light splashed across rumpled sheets and the odor of
sex wafted past his nose.

It took a moment for his head to clear. Then the awful truth of what
he’d done revealed itself like a lifting fog. He shot a glance to his left.
Poetry lay blissfully sleeping, unaware of his turmoil.

Last night’s acrobatics resurfaced, causing his cock to stir.
How could I be so stupid?

A one night stand was one thing; bedding an acquaintance that owes
you money was an altogether different beast with possible legal
repercussions. He hadn’t even started the paperwork for the ‘practice
dating’, never mind any intimacy clause.

Feelings of lust warred with ethics inside his head. He wanted to run
to the bathroom and hide.

His dick had other ideas. This was more than ordinary morning wood.
Adrian wanted to rouse Poetry and play with her piercings, make her
scream his name again. He wanted to lick those tribal markings on her
abdomen until she begged him to…

“Fuck.” He forced himself to retreat from the bedroom. He didn’t
need to make matters worse.

His reflection in the bathroom mirror looked disheveled. Like a perp.
His pale skin only emphasized the dark pockets under his eyes. Worse
were the mosquito bites at the base of his throat. He bent forward for
closer inspection.

No, not bites, burns. How the hell did he get those?
“Hey.”
Adrian jumped at the sound of Poetry’s voice, and he bit down a yelp.
“Don’t do that.” His heart thumped like Japanese taiko drums.

“Come back to bed,” she said. “We’ve barely slept.” Her grin
suggested she didn’t plan on sleeping. She eyed his erection, ran her
tongue piercing along her bottom lip.

“I know, but I…” He wanted to. His balls twitched just thinking about
her lips swallowing his length.

But slumming wasn’t his style. He didn’t do her type and it baffled
him that he’d even found her attractive last night. Maybe the heat got to
him.

“…I have work to do at the office.” Perfect excuse.
Poetry crinkled her indigo-stained forehead. “It’s already kind of late
in the day.”

“True.” Adrian drew the shower curtain and stepped inside the tub.
“But you know, high profile case.” He shut it behind himself, hoping she
got the message. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

“Sure.”

He hated himself for the sadness in her voice, but they’d never work
out. They were from different sides of the street. About as compatible as
North-South magnets. Better to let her down now before any real damage
occurred.

“I left extra food for Amir…” Poetry said, her footsteps retreating.
“But maybe he’s hungry by now. Or lonely.”
Adrian winced when the icy water pelted him in the face. He deserved
it.
# # #

Kevin wanted to vomit. The stench of armpits and shit churned an
already upset stomach, and he had to swallow the pastiness of his dry
mouth a couple of times. He’d been in jail for days without anything to
cook his brain. No weed. No coke. Nothing. They even took his hash
pipes.

Kevin rolled on the cot, moaning when his joints flared in pain. That
skanky bitch did this. He wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t left him. What
was her fucking problem anyway? He hadn’t done anything wrong. Well,
trashing her pad probably wasn’t a good idea. But she’d made him do it.
After she sicced that ‘suit’ on him, Kevin had gone to get something for
his nerves. He’d have to have a word with his dealer. That powder had
some wicked shit cut in or something. Not a fun trip.

He pictured the dark man who claimed to be Ares, god of war, who
commanded him to ‘lay waste’ to his ex-girlfriend’s apartment. Not the
usual hallucinations for sure.

The footsteps approaching his cell drove spikes of agony into his
temples.
“Ferris.” Kevin didn’t bother facing the newcomer. It hurt too much to
move. “It’s your lucky day. You’re getting out of here.”

He bolted up so fast his stomach contents sloshed to the back of his
teeth. Every tendon in his body screamed, causing the room to lurch. The
tinkling of keys and the metallic clang of the cage door pounded at his
ears.

“How?” He wasn’t getting out for good behavior, someone had posted
bail. But who?

The chunky uniform scowled. “Your dad.”
Kevin sneered. No fucking way. Nothing would move that limp old
prick to help him. That bridge had been torched years ago with a lighter
and a spoon.

Well, it didn’t matter. Kevin couldn’t score if he stayed in jail.

He allowed the pig to lead him to the effects room to get his shit. An
empty wallet and a couple of smokes. He already knew they’d taken his
stash.

Fucking procedure took forever. Kevin loathed it. But he’d behave
and slog through it. Anything to get out. Just when he thought his fingers
would fall off from signing shit they brought him to the front desk.

“Mr. Ferris?” The cop addressed a distinguished gentleman wearing
an expensive black suit. He looked out of place in the dinginess of the
room around him; a gold tooth in a rotten mouth.

Kevin swooned on his feet like a girl. This asshole wasn’t his father
but he sure as hell recognized him. His bowels churned so bad Kevin
thought he’d shit right there on the linoleum.

“Thanks so much, Officer.”

That voice. It wasn’t delirium. It really was the war god standing there.
Beads of sweat formed on Kevin’s forehead and upper lip. His hands
began to shake.

“I appreciate your help,” Ares said. “Did my son trouble you much?”
The police man gave him a genuine smile. “Not too much, Mr. Ferris.
He mostly kept to himself.”

“Good to know.” The oily grin Ares gave the cop made Kevin’s skin
dance with goosebumps. And when he fixed him with his cruel scowl,
Kevin wanted to slink back to the safety of his cell.

“Stop staring, stupid boy,” Ares harsh voice rang throughout the
room. “Have you no manners left at all?”
Kevin averted his eyes and swallowed. “S-sorry.”
“Not as sorry as you will be,” Ares hateful glare turned Kevin’s
intestines to squirming maggots.
“Okay, you’re free to go,” the guard said. “For now.”
# # #
The intense pressure of the man’s grip on his elbow added to Kevin’s
discomfort as they left the station. Better make nice.
“That was cool shit. I can’t believe those dumb pigs thought you were
my dad.”
The war god said nothing, just smiled that freaky fake grin as he led
Kevin toward a black Porsche.

The lack of conversation unnerved Kevin. He wasn’t stupid. This
asshole wanted something. Possession had heavy bail bonds attached to
it, and nobody did nothing for free.

“Get in.” Ares jabbed a finger toward the passenger side.

Kevin did it, even though he hated fancy cars. He had a feeling this
guy got pissed easily. Most people thought the Porsche was a wicked
ride. Not Kevin. They smelled like clean leather, but that’s where the
cool factor ended. They made him feel cramped, like his ass was too low
to the ground and his knees were gonna hit him in the nose.

Besides, what kind of dickless corporate nerd did you have to be to
drive something worth that much cash?

Kevin pushed the thought out of his head when Ares took the driver’s
seat. This guy had a nasty vibe, like he could make him have an aneurism
just for thinking shit. Even his cologne smelled evil, like embalmed fruit
or something.

“Here.” Kevin didn’t want to make eye contact. Instead, he
concentrated on the packet that magically appeared between the man’s
fingers. White powder glittered like fresh snow in a tiny Ziploc bag. It
made Kevin’s nose itch and his mouth water. “What is it?” he asked,
trying to mask his eagerness. Everything had a price.

“A little something a friend of mine conjured. She creates pleasurable
substances; has done so for ages. Go ahead.”
Kevin willed his shaking hands to pry open the red seal. He didn’t
want to appear desperate, but kind of figured Ares knew anyway.
“Looks good.” The drug twinkled at him, seducing Kevin with
imagined promises.
“Only the best,” Ares said. “You must be suffering. Try some.”
The words smacked of kindness and generosity, but Kevin wasn’t new
to this game. This would cost him.

“What do you want? “ he asked.
“I want to be friends,” Ares said, his voice smooth.

Sure he did. But Kevin needed the fix. He dipped his pinky nail for a
generous scoop, and an intense snort launched it to his brain. “Ahhhhh.”
“What did I tell you? My girl does fine work.”
Kevin barely heard him, didn’t care either. He tasted acrid chemistry
before his face went numb.