His power bloomed and he realized that like Morrigan, he’d turned a blind eye to his responsibilities because now that he faced his fears, stepped up and did what was right, he was rejuvenated. He felt like he was ten times the god he’d been before he’d gone to stay with Fred.
He focused his thoughts on her and found her easily. She was at his temple.
Ares materialized and found her curled up in his bed, wearing one of his t-shirts.
All the witty things he’d thought about saying fled. He had nothing except the emotion that overwhelmed him at the sight of her.
“Are you real?” she asked, sliding from the bed.
“I think so.” He pulled her against him.
“How are you here?”
“He let me go. He forced me to go.”
“Poseidon?”
“Fred. He said he didn’t want me to be there if it wasn’t where I really wanted to be.”
“Oh, but now he’s alone.”
“I have some ideas about that, but first I want to make love to you until neither of us can move.”
She nodded and leaned in to kiss him, but then pulled back. “Hmm, wait. I don’t know if I can sign up for this love-making business. I really like it when you fuck me through the wall.”
Mirth bubbled up inside of him. This kind of joy was almost a narcotic. “You’ll like this, too. Promise.”
“How about both? How about first, you make love to me. Then I fuck you through a wall?”
“Always have to outdo me.” He pressed his lips to her forehead in an oddly tender gesture, when compared to the action of her hand wrapped around his cock.
“That’s going to be our life. You sure you want that?”
“It’s what I was always trying for with Aphrodite, but she wanted more tender expressions of my love.”
“There’s tenderness. When I console you after your defeat,” she teased.
“There’s tenderness,” he began. “Between your thighs after I make you come ten times.”
“Ten?” she purred, leaning back to expose her neck to more of his kisses. “Challenge accepted.”
He obliged her, pressing his mouth to her throat. Her skin tasted like cinnamon and sugar, but he was hungry for the candy taste between her thighs. Only it wasn’t about him. It was all about her, all about taking her past the bounds of pleasure. Showing her how much he loved her.
He realized now that no matter if his touch was tender, or if he was trying to drill her through a wall, it was still making love.
Ares worshipped her like the goddess she was, giving her what was her due—all the pleasure she could stand, and the devotion in his regard, the reverence in his touch. He wanted to make sure he covered every inch of her skin with his mouth, no flesh was left un-kissed, untasted.
He moved to her collarbone, to her shoulder, the inside of her elbow—she giggled—her wrist…
Gods, how he loved the sound of her laugh. He loved the way she smelled. He loved the way she tasted. He loved how competitive she was, he loved that she didn’t take his shit… he loved everything about her.
How had he ever thought he wasn’t in stupid love with this goddess?
He avoided her breasts in his journey because he knew once he got started there, all of his big talk would be out the window like so much hot air. Plus, he’d already kissed her there. He hadn’t pressed his mouth to the dip in her spine, or the curve of her luscious ass.
She was writhing beneath him now, arching up to his mouth.
“Now, Ares!” she commanded.
“Not yet. Ten times, remember? We’ve barely even started on the first.” He continued his erotic journey, traveling her flesh with his lips.
“I’m going to put you in handcuffs again,” she threatened.
“Mmhmm. When I’m done here.” He pressed a kiss to her navel. “And I’m a long way from being done.”
She tunneled her fingers through his hair and after he’d kissed her everywhere, he moved back to her breasts, beginning at the outside curve and moving steadily inward toward her nipple.
“Just remember,” she gasped. “Turnabout is fair play.”
“I do hope that’s a promise.”
“Stop talking with your mouth full.” She tugged his hair.
He laughed. “I like it when you play at being in charge.”
She didn’t argue with him this time, but he knew her silence was the same as a threat. It made his cock even harder.
Ares bent between her thighs and she cried out when his mouth finally made contact with her heated flesh.
The taste of red hots was like home.
It was new for him to have his desire and lust wound up in the same woman where he found safety and comfort. It was fucking amazing.
Part of him still couldn’t believe this was real. That he was here, with her. He redoubled his efforts and within moments she was clawing down his back and evidence of her pleasure was on his lips.
He didn’t allow the aftermath of her orgasm to abate before he entered her. It was a rematch from before, with his forehead resting against hers, their eyes open.
This time he didn’t want to run away. He didn’t need to hide. Ares knew they saw each other so completely, what was under the skin, and she loved him anyway.
For the first time, he believed he deserved it, that he was worthy of it. That he was capable of being the god she believed him to be. He’d finally found himself, and in doing so, found a greater love for her.
“I love you, Morrigan.”
“Always have to outdo me, don’t you?” she repeated his words back to him. Morrigan cupped his cheek and after the tenderest kiss, she pulled back and said, “I really do taste like red hots.”
“Told you.” He kissed her some more.
“I’m not going to say it if you keep teasing me.”
“You’re already saying it.” He knew exactly what she meant.
“Don’t get cocky.”
“Oh, I’ve got enough coc—”
She laughed. “No, I do. Because it’s mine. You’re just wearing it.” Morrigan tightened her inner walls around him and pulled him deeper.
Ares groaned. “I’m not going to argue.”
“But why not? It’s part of the fun.”
He grasped her hips and pulled her forward to meet his thrust. “I’d rather show you.”
With their gazes locked, he took them both higher than they’d ever been before and just as the waves of bliss were about to crash over them both, she said, “I love you.”
They were both lost to the undertow, but he did, indeed, keep his promise.
Eight more times.
EPILOGUE
When Morrigan imagined her future, having a picnic on the banks of the River Styx wasn’t usually part of the plan.
Neither was hanging out with Hera for mimosas. When the goddess noticed Morrigan was out, she sent the hellhound, Cerberus, back to the castle by the lake of fire (which to be fair, was actually really pretty) to fetch more.
Hades reclined on a large blanket, angry gnomes forced to sit at the edges to keep the blanket from wrinkling. Hera snuck them each a grape or a bit of cheese.
“You’re going to make them fat, my love.”
“I know. They’re adorable,” Hera replied and fed them each a bit of the chocolate scone on her plate.
Morrigan and Hades looked at each other and shared a half-grin.
“I know, right?” Hades seemed to know the direction of her thoughts. “Who’d have thought this is where we’d be?”
“Certainly not me.” Morrigan looked over at Ares who offered her a plate of scones. She took two.
“Yeah, I like that. Don’t be ashamed of your appetite.” Ares nodded with approval.
Hera then fed Hades a couple of grapes and he leaned back against the cradle of his hands. “Yeah, this is definitely the life.”
She felt Ares’s eyes on her and he shrugged, as if to say that it would be fine if she wanted to feed him
grapes too.
“Not a chance, buddy. You’ll go to sleep and I’m not chasing Adrestia on my own. She’s already decided that she’s Boudicea and Charon’s boat is her chariot. Poor Fred is stuck hauling them up and down the River Styx.”
Charon, for their part, was standing behind the tiny goddess and had put reins in her hands so that she could steer the boat. Fred was gurgling with glee, glopping up and down the river.
“Wait, doesn’t she know that Boudicea was conquered? We’ll have to chat about this.” Ares face was a thundercloud.
Morrigan held up her hand. “No.”
“What do you mean no?” His brows crashed together and Morrigan was surprised she didn’t actually hear thunder.
Ares was a wonderful father. He indulged his little princess with everything her heart could desire. They were lucky that she was a goddess of balance because she was apt to be a spoiled terror with how much attention her parents lavished on her. But to be fair, his other children had turned out amazingly well. He’d been a devoted parent to each and every one of them.
“What I mean is that Boudicea should’ve been victorious. It’s what was right. She’s trying to right a wrong in the only way her five year old mind knows how to.”
Ares relaxed a bit. “Fine. I guess you’re right.”
“Mama is always right,” Adrestia called from her chariot.
“Let’s not be hasty,” Ares replied.
Adrestia giggled and went back to her play, knowing full well what she was doing.
“Fine then, how about I feed you?”
Morrigan eyed him. “Look, last time you tried to feed me, I didn’t get anything to eat. I got thrown on the ground and—”
Ares held up one finger. “Liar, liar, sweet little ass on fire. You are the one who pounced on me.”
She smirked. “Well, what do you want? You’re hot?”
He paused, his expression thoughtful. “What do I want? Nothing. I have everything I want already.”
Her nose may have prickled, but she ignored it.
“Aren’t you just the paragon of poetry?” Hades teased.
“Oh shut up. Who was the one who had Aphrodite tear his heart out and put it in a box because his feels were ouchie?” Ares volleyed.
“Ah, well. That is true. But if she hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to give it to Hera. So it looks like we both won.” Hades accepted another grape from Hera’s fingers.
“Good save,” Hera said.
Adrestia giggled and hopped out of the chariot, running as if… well, Cerberus was nipping at her heels. She ran straight through Tartarus, heading for the Elysian Fields.
She and Ares were both on their feet dashing to catch her, Corvinus on her shoulder screeching at her to slow down.
They didn’t catch up with her until the Elysian Fields and they chased her through tall green grasses under a bright, yellow sun. Their daughter laughed and laughed, as did Morrigan and Ares, utterly delighted by the baby goddess.
It was then that she realized this was what Aphrodite had seen and that without the other goddess, she wouldn’t have this life.
This love.
With a full heart, she whispered, “Thank you, Aphrodite.”
A warm breeze that smelled of roses and sunshine wrapped around them, danced through their hair.
You’re welcome, my loves.
Adrestia tried to catch the breeze. “Wait for me, Afo-dite. Wait for me!”
Morrigan supposed she could say that Love waited for no man, but then again it was lucky she wasn’t a man, she was a goddess. Because Love, had in fact, waited. It had waited for the right time, and the right god.
Love had given her everything.
Morrigan knew just like for humans, these moments would pass all too quickly. She turned to look at Ares and the expression on his face told her everything she needed to know—everything that she already knew.
This was happiness.
This was Happily Ever After.
* * *
AUTHOR’S NOTE II:
I hope you enjoyed Ares. I know I did. Hmm. Looks like since he got his happily ever after, he doesn’t have anything to say. I just had one more note to add. In Greek mythology, Adrestia is Aphrodite and Ares’ daughter, but I can’t help but think that Ares and Morrigan are a much better match, and Adrestia, for her part, seems to take after Morrigan. She was a goddess of revolt, of retribution, and the ultimate balance between good and evil. In this representation, I don’t think that Aphrodite would mind. After all, she’s finally going to get her story. She hasn’t told me if she’s going to be in Desperate Housewives of Atlantis, or Desperate Housewives of Asgard, but it’s up to her. After all of this, she deserves her HEA, too.
* * *
THANKS FOR READING. xoxo
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Saranna De Wylde has always been fascinated by things better left in the dark. She wrote her first story after watching The Exorcist at a slumber party. Since then, she's published horror, romance and narrative nonfiction. Like all writers, Saranna has held a variety of jobs, from operations supervisor for an airline, to an assistant for a call girl, to a corrections officer. But like Hemingway said, "Once writing has become your major vice and greatest pleasure, only death can stop it." So she traded in her cuffs for a full-time keyboard. She loves to hear from her readers.
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Ambrosia Lane 1-3: Saranna DeWylde Page 62
