God of War: An Enemies to Lovers Marriage Romance (Legacy of Gods Book 6)

A burst of white stars explodes behind my eyelids as demanding, harsh lips claim mine in an abandon of fiery passion.

For a moment, my spinning head is so disoriented that I believe I’m in a strange dream.Content from NôvelDr(a)ma.Org.

But would I feel his heavy weight on top of me if it were? Would my stomach cramp at the sensation of his abs flexing and growing taut with every nip at my lips?

My mouth opens of its own accord—I blame the shocking turn of events—and he plunges his tongue between my teeth. It’s a mess of biting, twisting, and sucking my soul through my lips.

He’s kissing me.

After years of rejecting and humiliating me through a kiss, Eli King is the one who’s kissing me right now.

And it’s not a mere kiss. It’s a possessive claim that’s brimming with simmering darkness.

It strikes me with a stunning realization that Eli has the ability to perform every action with eclectic intimidation. And while he’s controlled in everything, down to how many breaths he releases per minute, there’s a raw quality about his kiss. The brush of his lips and the tug of his teeth are beautifully unrefined and abundantly unhinged.

He nibbles on my bottom lip and sinks his teeth into the soft cushion. I tense, expecting the bite, the blood, the humiliation, but he sucks on the assaulted skin and conquers my tongue again.

Like a savage.

The sloppy sound of our clashing echoes in the air like a chilling aphrodisiac.

I try to think why I should stop this, and while I fail miserably, my shaky hands lift to his chest in a half-arsed attempt to put an end to this or at least slow him down.

He’s too intense. Too hard-core. I think he’ll suck me dry and leave me hollow.

Still feasting on my mouth, Eli gathers both my wrists in one hand and slams them above my head. Over the cold pages of a book.

His other hand wraps around my throat in a vise grip until I feel my swallows against his palm.

A shock wave of desire rushes through my starved limbs and pools between my thighs. I rub them together in search of much-needed friction, half -amazed, half -horrified at how little it took to work me into a frenzy.

All of a sudden, Eli wrenches his mouth away from mine. Every fiber of my being mourns the loss and I dart my tongue to lick my lips. I taste metal as I catch a glimpse of his reopened cut lip.

My pants echo in the air and my skin prickles and throbs as if I’ve undergone a ruthless workout. Eli, on the other hand, breathes deeply and heavily, still looming over me with apprehensive power.

I want to sink my claws into that control and mess it all up.

Mess him all up.

It’s only fair after he irrevocably ruined me.

“Is that all?” I try to sound nonchalant, which is partly a failure due to my trembling, slightly husky voice. “I’m kind of disappointed.”

“Shut the fuck up, Ava.” His rough voice echoes around us as he watches me with an edge of dangerous intent.

Apparently, I threw all of my survival instincts out the window, because I wiggle underneath him and whisper, “Or what? You’ll make me?”

A deep growl rips from his throat and sends a chill of dread and want through me. “Don’t test me when I’m barely stopping myself.”

“Stopping yourself from what?” I slide up and down again, this time opening my legs farther and rubbing my inner thigh against his erection.

His face tightens, the mask cracking around the edges and revealing a hint of the man I want to reach. “You don’t want to know.”

“Oh, I definitely do. There’s nothing I want to know more than what goes on in that head of yours. Go ahead, humor me.”

“What will I get in return?”

I smile sweetly. “My cooperation?”

His darkened gaze falls to my swollen lips, and any attempts at sarcasm fall flat. I grow hotter and stickier at his vicious, undivided attention, squirming despite myself.

Damn him and his disruptive eyes.

They could win a war without any battles or troops.

He’s going to kiss me again. I can feel it and taste it in the cloud of desire humming around us.

My eyes flutter closed in preparation for the beautifully savage claim, but Eli releases and pushes off me in one seamless movement.

The protest that’s about to fall out of me morphs into a yelp as he slides a hand around my waist and flips me onto my stomach as if I’m a doll.

I slap my hands on the floor for balance, my hair forming curtains on either side of my face.

“You want to know what I’m stopping myself from?” Eli’s heavy body covers my back.

I quiver beneath his warm and ridiculously muscular frame. He’s definitely packing for someone who looks lean, and even though I struggle to breathe, I don’t dare protest.

I hear the rustling of clothes as he brushes my hair behind my ear, the feel of his big hand eliciting sharp tingles from my heated flesh.

His lips close around the lobe before he sinks his teeth into the soft skin. I clamp my mouth shut to trap a whimper, but it escapes as a muffled moan.

“You had no business playing with my fire, Mrs. King, for you will not survive what I want to do to you.”

A stroke of fabric touches my hands as he grips and shoves them in front me on the carpet. Though he threateningly covers me whole, he’s holding his weight off or he would’ve crushed me by now. A death I, astonishingly, wouldn’t find revolting in the slightest.

I watch with bemused fascination as he wraps his tie around my wrists, securing them in a knot I couldn’t undo even if I wanted to.

A deep thrill bursts inside me in magenta colors at the idea of being tied up by Eli. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine this scene. My skin burns with excitement so fervent, stickiness coats my thighs and dryness takes refuge at the back of my throat.

“And what do you want to do to me?” I hear myself murmur in a voice I don’t recognize. I didn’t even know I could sound so crazy with desire, so turned -on by a man I was so sure I’d written out of my heart and soul.

But maybe I overlooked my body in that process.

“I want to mark you, Mrs. King.” He fists my hair and lifts me so my back is flush against his chest as his dark, lust-filled words roll into my ears. “I want to hurt you, bruise you, and own you so thoroughly, you’ll be ruined for all other men. I want to feel your pain, see my welts on your porcelain skin. I want to choke your throat, bite your lips and nipples, and leave my presence across your whole body before I pound into your tight cunt so ruthlessly, you’ll beg me to stop.”

My temperature hikes up so dangerously, I’m surprised I don’t go off like a box of fireworks. I’m so embarrassingly wet and burning with need, I’m afraid if I move and accidentally rub my pussy on the floor, I’ll come right here and now.

A part of me knows I should be alarmed by his words, but I was never normal anyway.

My breaths leave me in shallow pants that bounce off the carpet and condense on my upper lip.

“So beg me to stop,” he orders in deep, calm words. “This is your only chance to say the fucking words that will push me away for good.”

“Don’t…”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t stop.” I’m ashamed of how needy my words sound, but that feeling only lasts until his voice fills my ears again.

“You have no idea what the fuck you’ve signed up for, beautiful.” The nickname is spoken as a snarl as he drops me back on the floor and positions himself behind me. “On your knees, arse in the air.”

Awkwardly, and surprisingly, might I add, I comply, my elbows sinking into the carpet, and I lift my hips slightly.

I can feel his hawk-like gaze following my every movement with savage intent, but before I contemplate looking at him, he shoves my dress up to my waist.

A sudden gust of cool air prickles across my skin as he forcefully shoves his hand beneath the fabric of my clothes. I gasp as he tears the material, exposing my bare breast to his grasp. His rough fingers wrap around it and twist my engorged nipple, sending waves of pleasure through me. I bite down on my lower lip in an attempt to stifle a whimper. But the sensation is too intense, too raw, and I can’t help but let out a soft moan as he continues to explore my body with his skilled touch. Every nerve ending is on fire, every inch of skin tingling with desire as he takes control over me.

“You were walking around with no bra, wife?”

“The dress would be ruined by one.”

“My male staff’s careers would be ruined due to the lack of one.” He pinches and twists again, sending jolts of pleasure to my core, then moves to the other one. “If you’re in the mood to get them fired, all you have to do is ask.”

“Don’t be a dick…oh God.”

“Don’t be a flirt. I don’t appreciate others looking at what’s fucking mine.” His shadow feels so massive right now, so grand in its ruthless intensity.

He shoves my underwear to my knees while still torturing my breasts and runs his finger along my dripping-wet slit.

My knees nearly fail me and my elbows give up on me. My head falls on my bodice ripper novel and my nostrils fill with the sweet scent of printed pages as Eli strokes my wetness with lazy fingers.

“So messy, Mrs. King. So fucking messy.”

“It’s your fault,” I pant when he twists my nipple and then removes his hand.

“Promise you’ll conduct yourself around the staff. You’ll act like my wife.”

“No…promise… Oh fuck.” My words die out when he slaps my pussy.

Throbbing pain mixes with pleasure and I think I come a little.

“We’ll try again. Say ‘I promise to act and dress decently.’”.”

“N-no.”

His hand comes down on my arse cheek this time and I jerk, even as a foreign rush injects itself through my veins. “Again.”

“No…”

His palm meets my pussy with a slap so hard, I reel, my cheeks about to implode from warmth, and yet my arousal looms so high, I feel an orgasm building with vicious intensity.

“Wrong answer. We can do this all night, Ava.”

“It’s still a no.”

Three consecutive slaps come on my arse and I cry out, my lips quivering and my pussy so wet, arousal drips between my thighs.

“You seem to be enjoying your punishment. Interesting.” He parts my thighs and I catch a glimpse of him kneeling behind me.

I moan when he grabs my arse cheeks, digging his fingers into the bruised skin.

And then he dives in, his tongue ravaging my swollen cunt. My nose sinks between the book’s pages, tears, snot, and drool destroying the paperback thoroughly as Eli ruins me. The scent of my arousal mingles with the musty smell of books, creating a heady and intoxicating aroma that fills the air.

His tongue is rough yet gentle, devouring my pussy with a skillful touch. The texture of the book pages scratches against my nose, adding to the overwhelming sensation. He sucks on my clit until the pressure becomes unbearably hot. White stars dance behind my eyelids as I whimper in short, choppy breaths.

“Eli… Oh fuck, please…”

He wrenches his lips from my clit. “Say that again.”

“Please…”

“My name. Say my name as you come on my face.”

He thrusts his tongue in my opening, and I shamelessly ride his face, rocking back and forth. “Eli…I’m coming, I’m coming.”

The orgasm hits me with a strength I haven’t experienced before. It’s as intense as that time in the bathroom, but it’s…more potent.

The throbbing pain in my arse mixes with the pleasure he wrenches out of me, turning it cathartic, alien even.

It’s a moment of pure, pulsating abandon, like a fire burning through every inch of my body, igniting my senses and melting my inhibitions.

I don’t think I’ll ever come down from the high, and for a while, I seem to lose all sense of my surroundings. When I’m coherent again, I’m slumped forward, the pages of the book are stuck to my cheek, and my ruined dress falls in tattered shreds around me.

Eli flips me around again like a doll and kneels over me with the aura of a deity.

I can see my juices glistening on his cut lip and that somehow injects me with a strange sense of emptiness.

Who’s the reason behind that cut?

Was he kissing some other woman behind my back?

“Ava?” he asks with his usual calmness, though two lines form on his forehead. “Can you hear me?”

I reach my bound hands to his face. “Who gave you the cut?”

Whatever concern gripped him flies away in a shroud of mist as he grabs my hands before I touch him, and although he undoes the knot, the rejection nearly obliterates me.

Gently but dispassionately, he massages the red prints his tie left on my skin, then lets my hands drop like lifeless snakes.

“It’s nothing to concern you with.”

He stands up, casts one last cryptic look at me, and then walks out of the room. Leaving me throbbing and feeling rejected with a searing sense of pain.

Eli left the house the night he shattered my world to pieces and went on a business trip to the States for a whole week.

After his swift exit from the library, the house, and my immediate vicinity, the only form of care I received was through Sam.

She found me in my bedroom with my nightgown bunched up as I stared at his angry flushed-pink handprints on my arse. So she produced some soothing gel, pills, and her usual poker face.

For the first time, I was happy for her emotionless existence because I couldn’t bear the shame that was probably written all over my face.

She also probably ate a piece of the cake as a form of compassion for all the hours I spent stupidly making him the dinner he never ate. I spilled the soup down the drain and dumped the cake in the bin as if I were burying the humiliation that tugged on every corner of my soul.

The whole week, I indulged in overspending, pumping charities with Eli’s money to cleanse his satanic soul, and practicing my cello harder than when I used to prepare for a competition.

After my last performance, I was called again to play for a nonprofit event that I think I aced. This time, there were no flowers, but there was a text.

TIN MAN

Heard you’re playing tonight.

ME

To what do I owe this honor? Do you finally realize that I exist?

Good luck.

You’re the one who’ll need luck when I get my hands on you.

What will you do? When you get your hands on me, I mean.

Oh, nothing much. Claw your eyes out, for starters.

Not a strong incentive to invite me to put myself in your vicinity.

That’s because you’re a coward, dear husband. You can’t handle me, so you run away as far as you can. Why don’t you divorce me and spare us both the hassle?

The D-word is not going to happen so you might as well remove it from your vocabulary. And it’s not that I can’t handle you. It’s the other way around.

You were the one who left, not the other way around.

?

??????

Better not agitate you before a performance.

I hate you.

*thumbs-up emoji*

If you don’t come back by tomorrow, I’m moving out.

So I did do well with that performance, mainly because I was fired up and so pissed off, I took the allegro up a notch. I was brave enough to invite both my parents and parents-in-law. A decision rather foolish in hindsight, considering Papa can’t stand Uncle Aiden.

I’m glad I booked a private room at a members-only Asian restaurant so at least the rest of the guests won’t call the police on us.

While I sit between Mama and Aunt Elsa—both women elegant in stunning cocktail dresses and chic hairstyles, Papa and Uncle Aiden, who are facing us, are more concerned with glaring at each other instead of consuming their food.

Papa is wearing an impeccable tuxedo with a white tie. His lean and muscular frame still fills the jacket and the room with a charismatic aura. Uncle Aiden, on the other hand, is clad in a tailored suit and a cocky smirk that I swear he passed down to his less likable son.

While Uncle Aiden has a ruthless reputation in the world, he’s always been a doting uncle when it comes to me. Probably because Aunt Elsa takes her godmother role very seriously just like Aunt Kim, Cecy’s mum, takes hers when it comes to the headache, Ari.

Seeing the atmosphere tonight, I could’ve used my sister’s presence. But, apparently, she had a ‘very important secret mission,’ which is probably following Remi around like a puppy. Or more like a grim reaper if we’re being honest.

But then again, I’m the one with a social-butterfly reputation. Surely, I can handle this.

With a smile, I refill both their glasses of wine. “So how are things lately, Papa?”

“They were fantastic until I met this eyesore presence. Why is he here again, pPrincess?”

“Because I’m her father-in-law,” Uncle Aiden answers with a mocking edge. “And you’re just livid that little Ava married into the King household. She even has our last name now. Must be sad to be you.”

“A reality that can be rectified.”

“But it won’t.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Cole…” Mama says with the exasperation of someone who’s dealt with this a thousand times. “It’s Ava’s night.”

“Yes, Aiden,” Aunt Elsa supplies. “You promised to play nice.”

“I’m anything but nice, sweetheart. And this prick deserves everything but nice.”

“I’m going to knock your teeth out,” my father threatens.

“Papa, please,” I plead. “Can’t we enjoy dinner as a family?”

“Since when is Aiden your family?”

“Let me see…since she has our last name?”

Papa glares at him and he smirks.

“Admit it and cut your losses, Cole.”

“Ignore them.” Aunt Elsa pats my hand and places a dumpling on my plate. “I’m so proud of you, honey. You looked so bright on the stage.”

“Yes. You looked like a shining star, baby. I’m so happy you decided to follow your passion again.” Mama strokes my shoulder.

I smile. “Aw, thanks.”

“I’m sorry Eli couldn’t make it,” Aunt Elsa says in a sympathetic note.

My smile falters, but I refuse to let him ruin this for me, so I shrug. “You know him. Money and investment are more important to him than anything else. I don’t mind.”

“Well, I do. I’ll have a talk with his father, who’s been overworking him lately.”

“Pretty sure he’s overworking himself.”

“If you need me to talk some sense into him, I’m only a phone call away.”

I contemplate her offer. Aunt Elsa is the perfect weapon to use against her son since he respects and cares for his mum a great deal.

“I’ll take you up on that offer if needed,” I say with a sly smile.

We dig into our food as Mum and Aunt Elsa work their diplomacies with their husbands who seem hell-bent on leaving the restaurant with black eyes and bruised ribs.

After a while, I excuse myself to the bathroom and Mama says she’ll come with me.

Brilliant.

I stay as long as possible in the stall, hoping she’ll leave, but, sure enough, when I emerge, she’s standing by the backlit mirrors, redoing her lipstick.

Hiding my disappointment, I wash my hands and retrieve my powder puff.

“You have anything to tell me, Ava?” She slides the lipstick back into her bag and stares at me.

I keep looking at the mirror, touching up the powder more slowly than necessary. “Um, no, why would I?”

“Am I imagining it or have you been avoiding me?”

“Definitely imagining it.” I plaster a smile on my face.

She frowns.

Mama opens her mouth, then closes it. Ever since I was diagnosed as a teenager, she often has these moments of hesitation where she needs to measure her words before she says them.

“How’s the new medication treating you?”

“New?” I pause. “Oh, you mean compared to what I remember from two years ago? It’s fine. I take one at night.”

“Only one?”

“Isn’t that what the doctor changed it to? Sam told me that’s the new prescription.”

“Right.” Another pause, another rolling of words in her mind. I wish she’d stop treating me like delicate china. This is part of the reason why I couldn’t live with my parents anymore.

I love them, but they’re too careful, too scared about touching me the wrong way or saying something that will trigger me into a fit of psychosis.

That’s partly why I enjoyed Eli’s touch and, begrudgingly, his company. He’s never treated me like I’m weak.

He’s a bastard, yes, but he’s always talked to me as if I were normal, even though he’s fully in the loop about my issues.

“Is it affecting you negatively?” Mama asks. “If we need to have another consultation…”

“I’m fine. I live normally, arrange plants, read books, binge-watch films, and even meet friends—and not at clubs anymore. I play my cello comfortably, without pressure, and I enjoy every second of it. I’ve had no serious side effects and I certainly don’t want another consultation with a therapist that makes me feel like I’m insane. I wish you’d stop suggesting that every time there’s a problem, which there isn’t at the moment.”

“Oh, honey.” Mama pulls me into a hug and I realize my eyes are wet as she pats my back. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I just worry about you.”

“I know.” All too well. More than necessary. This is why, even if I call Eli’s bluff and move out, I won’t go back to her and Papa.

The desperation and hopelessness in their eyes would undo me.

While they’ve never made me feel bad, I can’t help thinking I’m the failure in their lives. If they only had Ari, they wouldn’t be worried all the time like this.

When we pull apart, Mama fixes my hair. “I just want you to go out with me for brunch or coffee sometime. Nothing serious. I only want to catch up with my beautiful daughter.”

“Yeah, sure. I can do that.” I sniff and dab beneath my eyes.

She stands behind me as I fix my makeup again. “Is Eli treating you well?”

I meet her eyes in the mirror as I apply my lipstick. “Not well enough, but he will.”

“That’s my girl. Let me know if you need tips.”

“Why do you have tips?”

“Because I used them on your papa.”

“No way. He treats you like a goddess.”

“Let’s say that hasn’t always been the case.”

“You had to catch him?”

“Not entirely, but I kept him in his place when I had to.”

“I love you more now.”

She laughs, kisses my cheek, and tells me she’ll wait outside.

As the door closes with a silent thud, I jerk and knock my bag and all of its contents onto the tile floor.

With a curse, I squat down and pick up my lipstick. My perfume bottle has opened, releasing a soothing floral scent in the air. As I grab it, static passes through my head and a blurry image hits me.

The sweet, heady scent of blooming flowers fills my nostrils, mingling with the musky aroma of sweat and desire. Rough, calloused hands grip my naked waist, pulling me closer to a hard and powerful chest. Our bodies press together, skin on skin, igniting a primal heat between us. My nipples harden against the firm muscles beneath them, sending shivers of pleasure through me.

My arms reach up to encircle the neck of a man whose face is shrouded in darkness, but his presence is commanding and alluring.

And then I hear my voice echoing in the stillness, “We shouldn’t do this. My husband would kill me if he found out.”