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He took her by the hips and pulled her closer to him. He found the entrance to her body with two fingers and pushed into it all the way, to the knuckles of his hand. Lia flinched and whimpered but held her tongue.
“You’re very young,” he said. “And small. I am neither.”
He removed his fingers from inside her and put them in his mouth, wetting them before pushing them back into her. He pushed his thumb into her to join the first two fingers, and Lia had to spread her legs wider to take it. Achilles parted his fingers, prying her open from the inside. Lia gasped in pleasure and pain as he widened her opening, then pried her apart even more. A low grunt escaped her throat.
“Better like this,” he said, “than tear you apart with my cock.”
He pulled his hand out and wet his fingers again in his mouth. This time her body yielded more readily to the intrusion. His fingers moved inside her, probed and pushed until she was open enough for him.
The tips of two fingers found a knot inside her, a tender tensed muscle and kneaded it. Lia’s eyes rolled back in her head.
“Good,” Achilles said.
She tried to breathe as he went about preparing her for his cock. He rubbed along the front wall, rubbed along the back. When she made a certain sound, a tiny gasp or quick inhalation, he stopped, as if he could simply take no more.
“Enough,” she heard Achilles say to himself. Abruptly he pulled his fingers from her and replaced them with the tip of his organ. With his large hands, he gripped her by her waist, lifted her, and then with a stroke he impaled her.
On her bed of silk, so incongruous in this rough wood and leather hut, she lay still as Achilles rutted into her with long rough thrusts. She willed herself to not move, to let him take all while she gave nothing.
At first her strategy worked. The huge phallus splitting her demanded nothing of her but that she yield to it. And Achilles was careful to not let his full weight rest on her and crush her. He crouched over her, hands and elbows on either side of her head, knees holding her legs apart as he pumped into her. He exhaled in rough, ragged breaths that tickled her shoulder and neck.
Only when he pressed his lips to the tendon of her throat did her body respond. It shocked her when he kissed her, shocked her enough that she gasped. And when he kissed her again, a longer kiss that lingered at her throat and ear, she felt her sex unexpectedly begin to swell.
She’d borne his thrusts until then and now...suddenly and strangely...she almost welcomed them. She grew slick. Her fingers gripped the silk beneath her harder, and her toes curled against Achilles’s iron thighs.
“Look at me,” he demanded, and she obeyed without thinking. As soon as she’d turned her head, he caught her lips in a kiss. His tongue plundered her helpless mouth as the cock inside her throbbed. She whimpered, but he gave no quarter, neither with his kisses nor his bruising thrusts.
At once he sat up on his knees and tore the sheer linen gown from her body as if it were made of parchment. He took her breasts in his hands, and though they were full breasts they seemed small in his palms. He held them hard and squeezed them, pinched the nipples and tugged them until they felt sore and heavy. He rubbed the pads of his thumbs over the nipples until they grew painfully, yet deliciously tender.
“Good,” he breathed as she began, for the first time since he’d entered her, to move under him. She hadn’t meant to, hadn’t wanted to, but her body took over from her will. As he rolled her nipples, her breasts swelled, and her sex grew even wetter. Her thighs seemed to spread farther apart of their own accord. The cock shifted in her, going deeper until the tip kissed her womb and she shuddered in pleasure and shame.
“You take my cock well,” he said. She heard pleasure in his tone, but mockery, too.
“I am no maiden. You give me nothing I have not taken before.”
This desire, unwanted and unexpected, had loosened her tongue. She half expected him to slap her for her words. Instead he laughed, a low and heady sound.
“The silk under you is soaked and I’ve yet to spill in you. Don’t pretend you hate this. Your body tells me otherwise,” he said as he squeezed her breasts to the point of pain. They were like twin hearts on her chest, throbbing from his brutal attentions.
She opened her mouth to protest but he covered her lips with one massive hand. His right hand. She could smell the salt water on his skin from the sea and the subtler scent of her own body on the fingers that had penetrated her.
“This is my sword hand,” he said as he pressed his first finger into her mouth. “I killed your husband and king today with this hand.”
If he’d thought to hurt her with that taunt or goad her into biting him, he did not know her husband. She would have thanked him if she could speak. Since she couldn’t, she closed her eyes and sucked the finger deeper in her mouth. Achilles moaned his pleasure, and at the sound, her raw inner muscles clenched around his cock.
Achilles pulled his finger from her mouth and grabbed her hips with both hands. He worked her up and down on his shaft. It would end soon. She knew it would end. And she willed herself to endure it until that end. But she failed there, made a fatal mistake. She looked at him again, looked at his head thrown back in pleasure and the long line of his bare throat, the pulse throbbing at the base. His chest, harder and stronger than any bronze breastplate that could shield it. The stomach, so hard and flat that she could count the ridges of his muscles under the smooth brown flesh. And his manhood, thick and slick with her juices, pumping in and out of her body, nearly lifting her hips off the pillow with its urgent thrusts.
“Please.” She sobbed the word as her head fell back on the pillow. It seemed Achilles had been waiting for her to surrender to him and he took that as her white flag waving. Through eyes hooded and heavy with desire, she watched him lick his fingertips and press them against the sore and swollen knot of flesh at the entrance of her body. He bore down on her with quick pumps of his hips as he stroked that knot. How did he know to do it? She alone had ever touched herself there, in the quiet of the night when all who were about her slept. He stroked it and she swelled even more and pulsed against his fingers. Sharp pleasure radiated through her sex, through her belly and back. Fluid trickled out of her, dampening her thighs as she worked herself up and down the cock that pierced her. As big as Achilles was, she could have taken a cock twice its size at that moment. She could not get enough of him. She cried out as her climax took her by force and left her shuddering in her innermost parts.
Arching, eyes wide open, she saw the shadow of a two-headed, two-backed beast moving on the walls of the tent. Lia went limp beneath him, his cock still embedded in her deep as a knife.
Though she lay limp, half dead, half asleep, he had not finished with her. He placed his hands on either side of her head and he rose and rose, his back arched and his pelvis flush with hers—and the sigh that came out of him was a sound of purest, most erotic male pleasure. She ran her hands from his stomach all the way to his neck and down again. Lia felt sealed to him, soft to hard, wet to wet. Her sex continued to give little spasms as he moved slowly in her, not thrusting but rolling his hips into her hips. Her thighs were damp, as was the pillow underneath her, though he hadn’t come inside her yet. It was her pleasure that perfumed the room, her arousal combined with the sweat of Achilles’s body and the oil—a primal scent.
He lowered his head and licked the sweat from her body from her belly to her breasts to her throat. Then he rose up again, pressing his hips into hers, sealing them together again.
He thrust three times, hard, harder, hardest, then cried out as he released inside her, spurting his seed into her, against the mouth of her womb.
When it was done, he exhaled, a deep groan from the back of his throat. He rested on his elbows over her, his cock still inside her. Slowly he withdrew from her, almost reluctantly. She closed her legs as he rolled onto his side, propped his head on his fist and looked at her.
