Ares
I know I’m dreaming when I see her smile at me so innocently, her body pressed against mine. I’ve been having this exact same dream for years. She’s wearing that same red dress that she always wears in this dream, the one she was wearing on Sierra’s 21st birthday.
It’s so short that bending her over will expose her tight ass, and the fabric strains against her breasts, barely containing her beautiful body.
“Ares,” she begs, “please.”
It’s been years since I last saw her look so shy. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, Raven,” I whisper, my hand tangling into her hair. I clench my jaw and ball my fist in her hair as I tilt her face up toward mine.
Her chest rises and falls rapidly, her pupils slightly diluted. The way she’s panting betrays her desire. She looks like she’s sile
