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He’s oh so serious. Even in this, with heat turning his dark gaze scorching and his breath ghosting against the most private part of me, Patroclus contemplates my words with the utmost severity. I like that about him. A lot. He doesn’t just fire off an answer and intend to bullshit his way around it being false later. He actually thinks about it and then gives me honesty. How novel.
Finally he nods. “A little. Does that bother you?”
Yes. No. I don’t know. I can’t think properly. I drag in a breath, determined to match him honesty for honesty. “Maybe it will later, but I need you too much right now. Kiss me, Patroclus. If you need to prove a point, do it by making me come.”
His slow smile has my whole body lighting up. Gods, this man is handsome. It’s different from the perfect features Achilles is blessed with. I noticed Patroclus had grown into a good-looking man the first time I met him as an adult, but each time since, it’s like that attractiveness has been compounded again and again. My heart gives a strange little lurch, but I ignore it, just like I ignore the inevitable consequences of doing this.
“I need you too much right now, too.”
Then there are no more words. He leans down and drags his tongue up my center. Slow. Methodical. Determined to learn every inch of me. He presses my thighs even wider apart and dips his tongue into me. First a tease, then a full thrust that has me moaning too loudly. I try to arch up, but he responds by shifting, banding one forearm over my lower stomach and using his shoulders to wedge my legs open even wider. I’m pinned and loving every moment of it.
Still, I’m not one to lie there passively and take whatever he wants to give me.
I dig my fingers into his short hair and tug, urging him up to my clit. He doesn’t hesitate, following my unspoken instructions to give it the same thorough treatment he’s given every other bit of my pussy. He tests out motions, his gaze on my face, until he finds the one that has me arching and moaning and writhing against him. “Yes, like that,” I moan.
Pleasure builds in me, higher and higher. Patroclus never deviates. He doesn’t speed up or slow down and shift the pressure the slightest bit. He winds me tighter and tighter and…
The bedroom door opens.
Achilles steps into the room and pulls the door shut behind him. We both freeze. I’m so fucking close, I could cry. I should have known this wouldn’t last, that we’d get interrupted before things escalated enough to truly offer me a reprieve. I should have known this was a foolish, impulsive thing that would most certainly backfire in an aborted orgasm.
I should have known…a lot of things.
I tense, waiting for Patroclus to scramble away from me, to sputter out excuses, to fight or leave. He doesn’t move. If anything, he tightens his grip on me, a silent command to stop trying to inch up the bed away from him. I freeze. Patroclus gives me a quick look as if testing my reaction. Whatever my face is doing, apparently it satisfies him. He turns his head just enough to look at Achilles. “You’re interrupting.”
Achilles’s slow smile doesn’t reach his dark eyes. “Yeah, I know.” He stalks to the chair next to the bed and drops into it, stretching his big body out and taking up too much space. He waves a negligent hand in our direction. “Don’t stop on my account.”
Oh my gods.
I look down my body and meet Patroclus’s gaze. I expected him to look ashamed or guilty. Maybe regretful. I sure as fuck didn’t expect his desire to burn even hotter. He doesn’t seem happy, but there’s no doubt that Achilles’s casual command sparks something in him.
Still, he is Patroclus, and because he’s Patroclus, he hesitates. “Are you okay with this?”
I don’t know. I feel like I’m free-falling. It’s one thing to know I’m neck deep in a messy relationship and sinking deeper. It’s entirely another to… I don’t even know what’s happening here. But my aborted orgasm beats just as strongly as my need to escape for a little while. Didn’t part of me hope this would happen? Yes. I didn’t expect it to happen like this, but it’s not as if it was outside the realm of possibilities when I urged Patroclus to touch me, to make me come.
I glance at Achilles and, wow, his smile might not reach his dark eyes, but he’s looking at us like we’re a banquet laid out for his pleasure and he’s not sure where he wants to start. I shiver. There’s no taking back what I’ve done, and maybe that’s an excuse, but I don’t care. I don’t want to stop. I want to charge forward and see what happens next. “I’m okay with it.”
