Bonds of Hercules (Villains of Lore, #2)(26)
He’d never really left. He just liked to pretend that he was someone else, someone nicer, someone with morals.
I clicked my tongue. “You’re so predictable.”
Achilles moved in a blur, pinning me with my back against the wall and my hands above my head, as hot water sprayed over both of us.
Reaching down with one hand, our gazes locked together—faces millimeters apart—he squeezed my aching cock. His touch tethered me to reality. The anguish abated.
I tipped my head back.
He stroked me expertly, hard and fast, then shallow and slow, just the way I liked. Our hearts pounded through our sternums; our chests were pressed flush against each other.
He released me abruptly.
I cried out, needing him close.
Eyes smoldering, he picked up the discarded soap bottle and turned it over. He banged it against his palm, then squeezed, veins standing out along his forearm.
Thick liquid slowly poured into his hand.
His hair was loose, plastered across his wide shoulders, and his muzzle dripped water. It smelled like something was burning.
Achilles arched his eyebrow.
He didn’t have to speak; I knew exactly what he wanted.
Slowly, I turned around and widened my stance.
Wet hands trailed down my spine, his nails pricking lightly against my skin, as he caressed the sensitive skin at the top of my ass.
His hands drifted lower.
Soapy fingers danced across my hole.
I shivered, breath catching.
He slowly worked the digits into me, and I groaned with pleasure, widening my stance.
There was a pop as he pulled his fingers away.
His muzzle pressed against the side of my face as he leaned closer, blanketing me with his body. His breathing was ragged and loud against my ear.
He was so close, yet so far away.
Another wave of anguish washed over me.
“You said you wanted her too,” I whispered, the leather of his muzzle digging into my cheek as he pressed against me from behind. “You’re taking their side. You’re abandoning me—”
Achilles wrapped his hand around my throat and squeezed, cutting off my words.
Familiar hardness pressed against my entrance.
Achilles thrust forward without warning, seating himself fully.
I bellowed, the fullness so intense it bordered on pain, as I stretched to accommodate his size.
He stilled.
We stood, locked together, breathing in tandem, drowning in heavy emotions.
His fingers loosened around my neck.
“We’re going to have to marry someone because of that stupid law,” I whispered hoarsely, trembling all over. “I don’t want to marry some Olympian stranger.” My voice cracked. “It will ruin what we have—”
Achilles’s fingers tightened, so once again, I couldn’t speak.
My head spun.
He expertly shifted his hips, pulling back at an angle as he thrust—I saw stars as he hit my prostate—his rhythm pinning me against the tiled wall, pleasure mounting.
Our hips slapped together, the sound wet and obscene.
He reached around and squeezed my cock.
I shuddered as I came, leaking all over his hand.
Achilles dragged his thumb against my sensitive head.
He brought it up to my mouth, rubbing it across my parted lips, then his hips flexed, hardness pulsing, as he also came. Leather creaked as he fought against the muzzle.
Slowly, his hand dropped away from my face.
He didn’t pull away.
We stayed connected, pressed against the wall, drifting down from our pleasure, as the shower sprayed down on us.
Achilles massaged my shoulders.
I leaned my forehead against the wall and reached back to grab his thigh. My nails dug into his skin, eyes closing in the afterglow.
When he finally pulled himself out of me, he grabbed my hunched shoulders and turned me around, gently cradling me against his heaving chest.
His heart pounded thunderously against my ear.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whispered, tilting my head up to him. “She respects our love—what we have. I thought maybe …”
I trailed off, unable to verbalize my tangled thoughts as the scent of fire intensified. Any other person would want Achilles for themselves. They’d try to take him away from me. He’s the only family I have left. He was all I had. There was no one else in my life who truly cared.
Achilles studied my face.
A part of me was already crumbling to pieces, my soul cracking at the thought of another person trying to ruin what we had.
There was a fire in his eyes—a promise—that we would be okay.
Tattooed fingers slashed through the hazy air.
I jolted.
His words hung in the air between us, explosive and slightly deranged.
“For you, my love—she’ll be ours.”
8
MEN WHO KNEEL
ALEXIS: ZERO DAYS UNTIL THE FIRST TITAN ASSIGNMENT
Moonlight reflected off the still lake outside and filtered through the villa’s windows.
I closed the bedroom door gently behind me and Nyx snored around my waist.
The week had passed in a blur of shooting simulations, but my aim had barely improved.
Today we were going into battle against Titans.
I would have been depressed, but since I also had to fight to the death in the SGC this summer, I felt nothing at all.