The Making of a Goddess Ch. 01

He started at this, and breathed the air right back at her, taking no notice at how his breath had turned to actual oxygen for her. So, as their lips crushed together, on the floor, in the gravy, they shared their breath.

How long they stayed like that, Ariadne didn’t want to speculate. By the time she’d broken through her fog of lust, her nightgown was ripped to the waist, baring her breasts and was twisted around her waist, with only his lather pants and her thin cotton underwear as a barrier between them.

He pulled back, his hips flexing between her thighs.Just what I need, she thought sarcastically, as she let the waves of lust crash over her.A god bent on sex.

Exactly right, answered a small voice. She ignored it and did the only other thing she felt capable of doing: giving back to the male above her what he had given her.

His mouth was on her neck, tingling trails skittering all over her body, and his hips bucked gently but rhythmically against the core of her. She knew her underwear was soaked through, could feel the wetness trickling down the crack of her ass. His hands were holding his weight off her, bracing himself against the floor.

She felt a new orgasm approaching, the whimpering low in the back of her throat, her legs strained with the effort of not wrapping around his waist. But she was lost when he drew her nipple into his mouth, nipping it lightly, and laving it with his tongue.

Her crescendo was a mirror of the ones before: she arced against him, panting, her nails digging into his arms, her eyes open and yet unseeing. She convulsed, a sharp buck against him that sent his blood boiling.

Ariadne wrapped her fingers around him, under his breeches, squeezing and pulling ever so gently. He groaned and dipped his forehead to hers, allowing her to stoke him to the brink of orgasm, at which point he would pull back, disentangling her fingers from him.

“I-I can’t wait,” she gasped out. She felt exhausted and exhilarated, needing more than just grinding against each other. He understood and made to get up, but she gripped his buttocks through his leather pants and held him down, nipping his chin sharply. “No. On the floor.”

He looked slightly bewildered, but grinned ferally and tore her panties off her body, throwing them across the room, where they smacked wetly against the wall. She scrambled to pull off her nightgown, and managed to rip it the rest of the way before it was discarded. She felt the cold sauce on her back, but ignored it. He was half-naked, his torn shirt equally discarded, but he hadn’t got his pants off all the way.

Ariadne grabbed his erection and tugged, pulling him sharply off balance. He started to protest about the pants, but she growled deep in her chest. He laughed at the sound, and fell on top of her, his long fingers seeking out her core, stroking lightly. Ariadne gasped in pleasure, but stared at where she thought his eyes were with a pleading look.

Ares moaned at the look. Her lips were swollen and deep red, her breasts were equally abused, her eyes burned with animal lust, and she was wet enough to apply to be a fountain. His neck muscles tensed as he pushed into her, her slick heat nearly causing him to spill into her. She was tight, tighter than he’d thought, and he pushed in slowly, her whimper-growls egging him on.

Her inner muscles clenched on him, begging him to go deeper. Her hips bucked upwards, trying to establish rhythm. He caught her eye, and saw the animal every man had buried inside howling at the surface, barely contained. He sobered partially, only enough to register that this mortal’s beast would be vicious and violent: a hunter.

It aroused him even more to sense she was nearly animal, her senses barely holding her together. He pushed all the way into her, letting her heat brand him, inhaling her scent, pulling the animal out of the waiting shadows of his subconscious. A near-howl tore from his throat and he bent over her, their mouths crushing together brutally.

They strained together towards the brink, her keening filling his ears.

She started to spiral, her insides clenching around him, squeezing almost painfully. Ares panted, using all his energy to thrust in and pull back. Each moment was bliss, every thrust a step towards climax.

Suddenly, the mortal woman froze, her eyes open and glazed, her spine arched to the limit. Her breasts were crushing against his chest, and her nails dug into his forearms.
Ariadne screamed. It was shrill and sounded like the worst agony. As she lost air, the noise abruptly changed tone into an ecstatic wail. Her muscled clenched and clenched, her body forcing his over the edge, and he turned his face away from hers, the intensity of it unbelievable, even for him.

He’d felt nothing like the burning orgasm that seared down his spine. White flashes danced before his eyes, and the pain of it was intense, like molten lead was being… but then pleasure took over, forcing convulsions from his body, as it jetted the last strands of pearly semen into the mortal female. He realized as the throes of orgasm were beginning to recede that she’d bit him. Not a love nip, not even just drawing blood. The woman had bit deep into his shoulder and he imagined he could see bone.

It was nothing, though. His arms were covered in blood, now, and her hands and face were, too.

He leaned down to her face and licked her cheek, tasting the metallic bite of blood.

“Welcome to Olympus.”