“No?” Achilles growled, circling her neck, applying just enough pressure to have a dark, erotic wave swirl through her lower belly and pool between her legs.
“Yes,” she damn near whined, leaning into his hold. Another buck of her hips, another, and another, and she shuddered, so close to coming just from grinding over him and that illicit grip on her throat.
How was that possible?
Because it was Achilles.
“I don’t want to want you.” He accompanied the admission with a sweeping caress of her nipple.
Electricity sizzled in her veins, the sparks echoing in her head, but she still clearly heard him. And underneath the pleasure, hurt vibrated within her. She lifted her hand, preparing to shove him away from her breast, but when he pinched the tip, tweaked it, her hand fell away. She surrendered to the pleasure even as she couldn’t escape his words.
“You’re everything I told myself I shouldn’t have. Everything that’s destructive to me. And yet—” he cupped her, levered up and sucked her into his mouth, his tongue licking and circling her flesh before crushing a kiss to her lips “—you’ve become my fantasy.”
“And you hate us both for it,” she whispered against his lips.
He stared at her, his wolf eyes so bright, so intense it almost hurt.
“Yes. Almost.”
A pain carved into her, sharpened by the tender care he gave her. She wanted to hate him back, to strike out at him for making her care. This was sex. Ill-advised sex, at that. Nothing more. But her pounding heart whisperedliar.
Good thing her heart held no power over her head, just as only her body could rule her for tonight.
Breaking the kiss, she slid down his body, scattering kisses down his torso, her fingers grasping the tab of his pants, undoing them, then tugging down his zipper. Scooting farther down, she settled in the vee of his thighs and fisted his cock. His guttural growl broke on the air, and satisfaction flooded her. He might hate desiring her, but his dick didn’t. This part of him—she freed him from the confines of his black boxers—loved her.
She didn’t waste time teasing him. Not when his dense, earthy musk teased her, and her mouth watered for the taste of him. Arrowing his length downward, she swallowed him. Another of his harsh moans rippled through the room and two large hands cradled her head, oddly gentle, and a contradiction to the barely leashed control of his straining body.
Closing her eyes, she lost herself in him. The feel of him sliding over her tongue. The threat of him nudging the back of her throat. The power of him pulsing in her hand. The taste of him she coaxed on each glide back up the length of his cock.
In this moment, as he bunched her curls in his hands, lifting them away from her face so he could glimpse every hard suckle, she was...powerful. He was hers.
And she was his.
In this moment.
“Enough.” His gravel-roughened order came seconds before he grabbed her by the shoulders and hoisted her up and off his body. But only long enough to shuck his pants, remove a condom from the wallet and sheathe himself. Then he reached for her, pulling her back on top of him. Grasping one of her hips with one hand, he squeezed his cock with the other, holding himself at her entrance. “Take me, Mycah.”
It could’ve been a demand. It could’ve been a plea.
She gave in to both.
Slowly, she sank down over him.
Her breath snagged in her throat at the impossibly tight fit, and she paused, shaking. Yes, she’d done this with him before. But this position made him seem bigger, thicker. Her fingernails dug into the dense muscles of his chest, and she shook with the increasing pressure as she pushed down, taking more.
The stretch. The burn.
And underneath? The pleasure.
Pleasure, simply because it was Achilles inside her, filling her, branding her flesh, marking her.
“Shh. Easy, baby. Take what you need.” He cupped her breasts, whisking his thumbs over the beaded nipples, his long hair tangled around his head. His hooded gaze seemed to miss nothing—not her struggle, not even her pleasure. His face hardened into a mask of such fierce lust, it stole what little air she had left in her lungs. “You’re so fucking tight. So wet. Months I’ve been dreaming about this, and nothing came close to how perfect you are.”
Months? So she hadn’t been alone in not forgetting that night?
A silent cry echoed in her head, and she sank lower. Oh, God. She had to move. Had to...dosomething. Using his chest as leverage, she rose off him until just the tip of him kissed her folds, then she took him back inside, the wide, thick length of him claiming her just as she claimed him.
Twin ragged groans penetrated the room, and with his hands still caressing her breasts, she rode him. Cautiously, at first, but gradually, with more abandon until he filled all of her and her behind slapped his thighs. It was so damngood.
