“You know why.”
Because all my best memories are with him.
“No,no!” I shook my head. “You’ve ruined my life.”
“I did.” There was no hint of apology in his voice. “But I’m done getting even.”
I clawed at his dark Henley, waffling between trying to kill him one last time or drowning in his addictive touch. I just needed a distraction…a buffer between me and all the feelings that flooded me.
My hand snaked under his shirt. Warm skin and chiseled abs. That simple touch sent an agonizing bolt of desire up my spine. I needed him inside me, consequences be damned. I climbed onto his lap, latching on to a vein in his neck and sucking it greedily.
“Cazzo,” he groaned. “Be careful.”
I looked down. Oh shit. I’d poked his stab wound by accident, breaking it open. Blood coated the bandage around it, whichneeded to be replaced. He wasn’t wearing any pants. Just briefs. “Oh, sorry.”
“For stabbing me or for kneeing the stab wound?” The smile in his voice made me melt.
“Hmm, both?”
He gripped my chin and smashed his lips on mine. Our tongues twisted together, and I planted my knees on each side of him on the mattress, grounding onto his erection. I loved the sounds I milked from the great warrior Achilles Ferrante. Helpless, barely controlled grunts of pleasure each time my pussy rubbed against his cock through our clothes.
“How’s that ankle?” he murmured into our kiss.
“Better,” I lied, not wanting to stop this.
“Good.” He gave me a rough shove. I bounced on my side of the bed, falling to my forearms. He mounted me and tugged my panties down. He must’ve taken off my pants sometime when he tended to my ankle. “Been wanting to do this since we were teenagers.” He used his thumbs to pry open my thighs, running the tip of his nose along my slit, bottom-to-top until his lips clasped around my clit. I grabbed a pillow and pressed it against my face, arching as I muffled a scream.
“You’ve done this before,” I mumbled into the pillow.
“I wasn’t concentrating on anything but making you come,” he admitted.
It was appealing. His honesty. His boyishness. His ability to open up without embarrassment.
He swirled the tip of his tongue along my clit, sinking his middle finger into me, to find me completely drenched. I squirmed, wanting both to ride his finger and to escape the tingly, building pleasure.
“Fuck, you taste good.” He added another finger, and then a third, fucking me while sucking and nibbling on my clit. I met his leisured, teasing thrusts with frantic enthusiasm, bucking myhips, my entire body begging for more. The man ate pussy like Michelangelo sculpted naked dudes, reaching masterpiece level of perfection.
“God, I—” I began to moan.
“Mmm. Pussy’s perfect.” He grabbed my waist and flipped me to my knees. The pillow I pressed against my face fell to the floor. “Now let’s taste your other hole.”
Achilles thumbed my ass cheeks open and plunged in, swirling his hot tongue against the rim before spearing it all the way through, to a point of half penetration.
Stars exploded behind my eyelids.
His fingers were still inside my sex, driving in and out quicker now, and I was so full of him, pleasure and pain swirled together in a perfect storm. I buried my face in the mattress to stifle my moans, my ass pushing against his face, begging for more. His fingers went deeper, faster inside me, his rough knuckles brushing my clit. I was going to explode.
My pussy clamped down on his fingers, desperate. My orgasm spread across my body like wildfire. Shivers swept up and down my spine.
“My turn.” He bit the side of my ass softly, giving it a casual slap. My knees gave in and I fell to my stomach on the bed with an exhausted groan. My limbs felt like overcooked noodles. But Achilles couldn’t care less as he scooted on his knees up my body, the swollen head of his cock nestling between my legs.
“Gonna fuck you nice and good now.” His breath skated across the side of my neck, his hand snaking over my shoulder and squeezing the front of my throat. “And if you’re a good girl, I’ll even let you breathe.”
With a yank on my waist, he brought me to kneel on all fours. Before I could register what was happening, he slid into me, planting one leg over the mattress as he began slamming into me from behind. Our moans filled the room, soaking the walls.
“Shh, now. No one said you’re allowed to enjoy this. Every time you make a sound, I’m going to squeeze a little harder,” he murmured in my ear.
He was finally giving me what I wanted—violence, degradation, depravation—and I knew exactly why. Because he wanted to remind me he didn’t need all that to make me come hard.
