God of Wine Page 5

  She looked around at the packed gym, people doing the circuit with their trainers—weights, pull-ups, squat thrusts, rowing, and running. It really gave her a rush to see her establishment helping people achieve healthier bodies and lives.

  Well, she thought, all that pain led to this. Her dream. Freedom. Being healthy and helping others achieve the same. Today marked the gym’s ten-year anniversary.

  Margarita glanced at her watch. Seven a.m. Time to text Jessica and make sure she was up and ready for school. Jess already had five tardies this school year. Teenagers—the laziest, fittest people on the planet. So unfair.

  Margarita exited the aerobics room and headed for her office on the other side of the gym to grab her cell. She punched the code on the number pad to the side of the door and entered.

  There you are. She reached for her phone atop a stack of papers on her desk and heard the door close behind her.

  “You,” said a deep male voice filled with accusation.

  She turned and saw a towering male figure standing there staring at her. Beer belly. Turquoise eyes. Messy, long hair.

  “Oh, hell,” she muttered. “Not you again.” At least he’s wearing pants. In fact, he almost—almost!—looked handsome in his worn jeans and “If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands!” T-shirt.

  He stepped toward her, and instead of showing an expression resembling someone lost or daydreaming—or shitfaced—like the last two time she’d seen him, he looked serious. Possibly sober? That was a relief because she hated being anywhere near a drunk. Mike had taught her how cruel they could be.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, thankful she wore a loose-fitting T-shirt with her gym’s red logo and black Spandex shorts. The first time she’d seen this guy—drunk, staggering, reeking of beer—she’d been on her way to a private training session with an A-list client staying at the Shangri La Hotel. She’d been wearing one of her smaller outfits—small sports tank and short shorts, better for a stretching and yoga routine—when she bumped into this disgusting clown in the elevator. He’d taken it upon himself to tell her she had a tight ass and nice tits. Pig. Didn’t he know how threatened it made a woman feel to be trapped in an elevator with a huge, seven-foot drunk guy wearing nothing but a pair of tightie whities?

  She shivered at the memory. “What do you want?”

  The man—Belch he’d called himself—pointed his finger in her face. “You! Blondie,” he barked with a deep menacing voice, “you will make my body into a divine temple to attract many females.”

  She pulled her head back. What in the world?

  Belch stepped closer, leaving a foot of space between them, and glowered down with intense turquoise eyes, freezing her in place. “What are you waiting for, woman?”

  She tried to make her mouth move, but there was something about him. Something so very different from the last time she’d seen him. Dopiness converted into a powerful authority. Magnetism instead of pure repulsiveness.

  And he doesn’t smell like booze.

  “I am in need of fitness.” He placed his large hand on her shoulder and gave her a little push. “There is no time to lose. Chop-chop.”

  Did he just push me? “Did you just push me?” Because no man laid his hands on her. Never again. She’d played the role of victim for one tragic chapter of her life. She’d survived and would never allow anyone to put her in that place again.

  “Yes, and I will do so again if you do not get moving,” he said.

  “Get. Out. Of my. Gym,” she snarled.

  “Are you refusing to assist me?”

  Why did he seem so shocked? Didn’t he remember their last interaction? Or the one prior to that?

  “I don’t allow disgusting, womanizing drunken slobs in my gym,” she growled.

  “Ah, I see. You are nothing but one of those judgmental trolls who enjoys criticizing others less physically perfect. I should’ve known.” He lowered his head, placing the tips of their noses together.

  His scent wafted through her nostrils. What is that smell? It was sweet and intoxicating. It filled her lungs like a sensual drug, infusing her blood and giving her a shock of titillating tingles throughout her body. What the hell is that? He smelled amaaaazing. Sinful. Mind-blowingly delicious. Every erotic nerve in her body lit up, throbbing and aching.

  No way. She stepped back, pushing her ass all the way against the edge of her desk. How could she want him? No. No. Not possible. She looked at his giant beer belly, unkempt hair, and untoned legs and arms, feeling revolted by the lack of pride in his appearance. Yet…he still had a beautifully masculine face—strong jaw, full lips, and deep, soul-penetrating turquoise eyes that gave her goose bumps. Was he really seeing through her, right into her soul, or was that her imagination running wild due to lack of sleep?

  It’s definitely your imagination, and he needs to go. Clearly something was not right in her head.

  “Leave,” she snapped.

  Eyeing her with those stunning blue-green eyes, he crossed his large arms over his flabby chest. “I will leave when you, you foulmouthed little female, give me what I came for: a hot sexy body.”

  She laughed. “Not possible. Now go before I call the police.” This man was a mess, both inside and out. No manners and vile. But dammit, he smells so good. Why? She felt the warm tingles between her legs turn into a hot dampness.

  “I do not fear the police or anyone for that matter—except the clowns. They make my skin crawl. Nevertheless, I will go, but know this: you are a member of this world, same as anyone, and you have failed it.”

  “Whatever, Arrow. Just know you are the biggest loser to ever walk the…” Her words faded as she watched him turn to leave. Something inside her—a very, very strange something—did not want him to go. No. She wanted him to stay. She wanted to ravish him.

  “Wait. Tell me what you’re willing to give in exchange?” What the hell am I saying?

  He glanced over his wide shoulder in her direction. “What do you want?”

  She couldn’t bring herself to say the unbelievable words: She wanted…she wanted him! Oh God. Did I smack my head on a barbell? He’s so unhealthy.

  His eyes flickered with suspicion as if puzzling something out. “All right.” He sighed his words. “If I must.” He returned to her, placing his hands on her hips and lifting her onto her desk.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “What do you think?”

  I think you’re going to have sex with me on top of my desk. And more shocking than anything, she wanted him to.

  What’s happening to me?

  CHAPTER SIX

  Fine. If this stuck-up, horrible woman required a thorough fucking in order to be persuaded to help him, then that was what he’d give her. What did he care? He actually might enjoy shutting up her rude, condescending mouth with something big in his pants. Because the nasty tone in her voice had instantly set him off. And turned him the hell on.

  He ripped off his shirt and pulled down the top of his pants, exposing his large, thick cock. He was already hard, ready to show her how the natural order of species worked—him on top. Her on the bottom.

  “What are we doing?” she asked without any fear in her voice.

  She so wants me. He saw her dilated pupils and hard nipples poking through her thin T-shirt as proof.

  “Remove your shorts,” he commanded.

  “You’re disgusting. And insane.”

  “And you’re a mean, nasty old woman.”

  Her mouth dropped. “I am not old.”

  Actually, she wasn’t. She looked to be approximately in her early thirties; however, her aura and vibe told him she was a bit older. She takes very good care of herself. Serious MILF.

  “Prove it. Shut up and take off your shorts,” he egged her on.

  She was about to say something, but there it was. A flushness in her face and chest. Rapid breathing. She was about to lose her mind if he didn’t fuck her. It was a simple fact that humans
found gods irresistible. Perhaps it was nature’s way of making them more complacent so the gods might effectively do their jobs. Who knew? But he could not recall any woman ever getting this excited nor did he recall wanting to fuck someone as badly as this. He wanted to pound her into submission.

  “Well, I do not have all fucking day, woman.” He gripped his enormous throbbing cock in his hand, waiting for somewhere warm and wet to put it. I am a true romantic.

  “Fine.” She reached for her waistband and began shimmying down her shorts. “But you’re still a disgusting slob. This changes nothing.”

  Dear gods. He glanced at the perfectly smooth creamy skin between her thighs and the barely there landing strip of dark hair between her legs. Now he was the one who might lose his fucking mind if he didn’t get in there.

  “No more talking,” he commanded.

  With her tennis shoes still on and her shorts around her ankles, he lifted her legs and slid between her thighs. He pushed her back onto her desk and leaned over her, staring into her wide, hate-filled eyes.

  Gods, she’s so mean. And he so wanted her.

  With his cock firmly in one hand, determined to make her eat her words, he slapped her c-spot a few times, teasing her with the head.

  She gasped with pleasure.

  “Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he whispered in a deep voice.

  “No. Shut up. You make me sick.”

  He laughed. “Liar.” He slapped her clit again with his heavy shaft. “Tell me you want it. Tell me to end your torment and fuck you.”

  “Never.”

  He spanked her c-spot once more with his stiff dick, unsure of how much more he could take of this.

  She bucked with pleasure but stared defiantly. “I have no idea why that feels so damned good. You’re awful. I can’t stand you.” She smiled wickedly, taunting him.

  Oh. So this was her game. “Fine. You win.” He quickly positioned the head of his shaft into her slick entrance and grabbed her petite hands, raising her arms above her head while staring into her mesmerizing green eyes. She looked absolutely lovely, like a wild creature, her long blonde hair loose, her body pumping with adrenaline.

  He stilled, refusing to give her what she wanted. Eleven inches of thick, hard flesh.

  “What are you waiting for?” she complained, wiggling her hips, trying to get him deeper.

  He pulled back, maintaining enough pressure to torment her and keep the tip of his shaft inside. “Say it. Tell me to fuck you.”

  “I hate you,” she growled.

  Oh, that did it. “I think I hate you, too.” He thrust hard, driving into her until he could go no further. Not nearly far enough.

  She gasped and threw her head to the side. “Fuck. Fuck, you’re too big.”

  He pulled out and drove into her again, the desk creaking. Damn! He could barely get halfway in. He never remembered a woman being so damned tight. But then again, every inch of her body was solid, lean muscle.

  “Relax,” he commanded, “or it won’t work.”

  She nodded, panting, “Okay. Okay. I’m relaxing.”

  “That’s right.” Slowly, he eased into her, feeling her walls clenching, resisting the sensual invasion. He increased the pressure, watching the intense pleasure build on her face as he drove inside one inch at a time. “There you go.” He brushed his hand over the top of her blonde hair, admiring her natural, timeless beauty—full lips, golden brown eyelashes that fanned out in thick curtains, and the loveliest smile lines etched into her cheeks. He slowly pulled back, enjoying the feeling of her warmth and wetness all around his dick. Gods, she feels so perfect. So good. Being with her was like having sex for the very first time. Was it because of her or because he had nothing in his bloodstream to dull the pleasure? And the way she reacted to him, bucking and moaning, her skin flushing. He couldn’t wait to show her what would happen when he came inside her. Instantaneous, mind-blowing orgasms. And he could come as many times as he liked. All night long, if he wished. It was good to be a god. Sometimes.

  She bowed her body forward and slid her hands around his ass, pulling him closer, deeper. “Harder. I’m ready now.”

  He looked down at her needy face and grinned. Oh, yes. She was enjoying this, and he was enjoying making her eat her words. She fucking wanted him. In your face!

  He thrust his hips forward, this time going as deep as her body would allow, but still unable to completely bury himself. He would have to try another position to get his cock in the entire way.

  “Oh, god,” she panted, “I’m so close.”

  He pumped a little faster, allowing his balls to tighten. He would wait for her natural climax and then…he’d ejaculate deep inside her, allowing his energy to seep into her womb and give her an orgasm that would have her salivating for the rest of her life.

  The good thing was that once he removed the black jade bracelet, she could not get pregnant.

  Acan froze. Wait. I didn’t give her a jade bracelet. Oh shit. He probably had three seconds not to fry her brain. Panicked, he quickly pulled out and looked at her. Oh, gods. Oh, gods. Please tell me she is all right.

  Her hooded green eyes went wide. “Why did you stop?”

  Thank gods. He sighed with relief. She’s fine. He’d pulled out in the nick of time.

  “Well?” She lay there in front of him, glowing with sweat, and the valley between her legs wide open, tempting him to return to her glistening wetness.

  He could not tell her the truth—humans were on a need-to-know basis about the gods, meaning they had to be a part of their human army, the Uchben, or they were essential in some other way. Mates were also allowed to know, but this woman did not fall into any of those categories.

  He lifted her legs, slid out from between her thighs, and put his cock back in his jeans, painfully adjusting himself so it would go sideways instead of sticking straight out like a giant horizontal flagpole.

  “Oh, my god.” Her mouth dropped. “You’re going to leave me hanging to get back at me, aren’t you? I should’ve known.”

  Acan glanced down at her lying there so angry and aroused. Fuck, I want to get back in there and give her the real punishment—the orgasm that will ruin her for all other men.

  “You’re a disgusting asshole,” she said. “Or maybe you’re just too drunk to come.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I am never too drunk to come. And you should watch that nasty mouth of yours.” His eyes involuntarily moved down and stuck to her entrance. Godsdammit, I want her. In all his years of existence, he could not recall feeling so aroused by a woman. And the way her body felt pressed against his was nothing shy of amazing. Had this been what he’d been missing out on all of these years? Sure, black jade—which enabled gods to have sex with humans—was a fairly recent discovery, but since then, he’d had sex all the time. Of course, never like this. Like she’d lit up his body from the inside out.

  Must be the lack of party juice. Nonetheless, it had been intense.

  He sighed longingly at her unsatisfied and swollen c-spot.

  She snapped her legs closed. “Loser.”

  He glanced back up at her angry face. “Dried-out cougar.”

  “Dysfunctional dickhead.”

  “All right. That does it.” He would slide inside her, come hard, and pull out. He’d have to be quick, but then she’d know who she was messing with.

  He reached for his cock but stopped. Despite everything, he cared what happened to this woman. He could not risk harming her.

  “Oh, big man can’t finish the job?” she said bitterly.

  Gods, she looked so hot. And beautiful. He would give anything to reach out and touch her again. Godsdammit. Look how full she is of sexual energy and life and whatnot. He could look at her all day long.

  He sighed and stepped away. “I have to go. I’m late for a meeting.”

  She snapped up her head. “Yes. You should go.” She pulled up her shorts and began pushing him toward the door. “Like now. Right now.
Now, now, now, and don’t ever come back. Got it.”

  “You are not going to assist me with my fitness needs simply because of this?” he asked. “That is called sexual bullying. I feel violated.”

  “Yep. Absolutely. That’s me. Exploiter of men.” She pushed him again, trying to move him toward the door. She was behaving like a lunatic.

  “Ah. You must be worried about a boyfriend or significant other who will no longer be appealing to you after you’ve come so close to male perfection.”

  She looked up at him. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that you are a sore loser and can only attract insecure men.”

  Hate shot from her beautiful green eyes. “You. Are. Such. A disgusting pig.”

  “Yes. I know that. Thus the reason to change my ways to impress more women, starting with my body, which you’ve now refused to help me with.”

  She blinked at him and stuttered, “Wha-what? Oh God. You’re insane, and you really need to leave.”

  She was serious. She really truly refused to help him. How was that even possible? Humans were supposed to want to do anything a god said. Dammit. I feel the need to party and release the negative energy building in my chest.

  No. I cannot. I made a vow. But the urge to give in to his instincts, his divine place in this world, felt like gravity pulling him down. He could hear the masses chanting his name and begging him for fun. So much suffering, such need for libations and drink!

  “You truly want me to go?” he asked.

  “Yes. There are plenty of other gyms in the city you can go to for your ‘fitness needs.’”

  Of course. However, now he sort of liked her sour attitude and smart mouth. And clearly this woman, who was in incredible shape, knew what she was doing.

  Again, the pull to party was tremendous. He could hardly stand it.

  “All right,” he said. “I will leave, but you must do one thing for me.”

  “What?” She looked up at him, thoroughly agitated.

  He leaned down and kissed her hard. Her mouth, resistant at first, melted into him and her lips became soft and welcoming. He moved his tongue inside her, softly stroking and sliding. Her breath, sweet and fresh like a spring meadow, filled his lungs. Everything about her was so damned rejuvenating and uplifting.