Chapter 13 #2
One of my hands manages to release its iron grip on the handrail, flying to my mouth so I can bite down on it to stifle the scream.
Achilles’ hand jerks up and yanks it away as his tongue curls around my pulsing clit.
“Scream for me, little prey,” he snarls into my pussy before shoving his tongue inside me.
My back arches violently, my eyes bulging wide as my hips buck shamelessly against his mouth.
And then, as the second climax smashes through me, I throw my head back and I fucking yell.
Pure, choked need echoes like a battle cry through the silence of the stacks. I cry out again and again, shuddering and shaking as Achilles’ tongue pushes me from one orgasm to another until my muscles give out entirely.
My legs go slack, my grip immediately loosening on the handrails. My head lolls to the side, and I whimper as I slump back on the ladder.
Achilles lets his tongue lazily drag up my pussy before he moves up my body and pins my limp, puppet-with-cut-strings frame to the ladder with his own.
His black eyes look vicious and unhinged as they nail me to the ladder at my back. Like he’s prying his way past whatever defenses I have left. Opening every drawer. Rifling through every secret.
Even the ones I don’t tell anyone.
I start to mentally close off and retreat. Immediately his dark brow furrows, and I gasp as his hand firmly grips my jaw.
“No. Go back,” he growls. “Go back to what I just saw half a second ago.”
“W-what?”
His eyes turn lethal. “Whatever headspace you were just in, go back there.”
My pulse skips.
Until ten minutes ago, the most insane thing I’ve ever done was plant murder evidence in a bedroom at Kingsward Hall.
After that, it was letting Achilles Drakos, public golden boy and private dark devil of Knightsblood University, go down on me.
But even with all the endorphins still flooding my system, and the brain fog from the most mind-numbing orgasm of my life that I just experienced, I’m not crazy enough to do what he’s asking.
Show him me, without the walls.
Without the layers I carefully wrap myself in to cover my shame.
“Yelena,” he growls against my mouth. His fingers tighten on my jaw as his dark eyes lance into my soul. “Show me what you just tried to hide from me.”
I shake my head. “It—it was nothing. Just—”
I whimper when his hand slides up my jawline into my hair and wraps it in a fist. He tugs sharply, yanking my head back, making me gasp and shiver.
“When you lie to me,” he murmurs directly against my ear, sending electricity rippling through my core, “it makes me want to fill your mouth with my cock and my cum.”
Jesus.
I want that switch from going down on me to grabbing my hair and threatening me to shake me from the insane grip he has on me. I want that edge of darkness and violence to turn me off, to make me realize how insane I am for humoring this man at all, let alone opening my legs for him.
The problem is, my reaction is the exact opposite.
Turning on a dime from sensual to nightmare makes my core turn molten. His lethal edge makes me crave him.
I whimper when Achilles bites my earlobe and grinds the hot, thick bulge in his pants against my bare pussy.
“Maybe I should just fuck it out of you,” he rasps. “Maybe the feel of my cock getting drunk off your sweet cum and virgin blood would loosen your tongue…”
He’s still gripping my hair with one hand as the other one slowly slides between my legs. I feel his fingertips slide up my slick pussy, dragging another low moan from my chest.
His dark eyes flicker, turning the color of midnight, and that’s when I see it.
The complete disappearance of the golden boy.
The utter nakedness of him without his gleaming mask.
The full darkness of his devil.
And God help me, I want him to swallow me whole.
Suddenly, he’s lifting his hand and dragging his slick fingertips over my lips. I shiver, tasting myself as a single finger invades my mouth and slowly dips in and out, his dark eyes watching me in venomous fascination before he slowly pulls it free and wraps his own lips around it.
“Do you taste how sweet your pussy is?” he murmurs after sliding his finger back out, his mouth barely inches from mine.
I’m numb everywhere, unable to speak.
So I just nod, my eyes locked with his as I try to slow my galloping pulse.
“Good,” Achilles growls. “Now you know why you’re my new favorite meal, and why I’ll be back for more.”
I’m still sprawled on the ladder, barely hanging onto it, my legs still askew, one of my shoes half off and my face still throbbing with heat as he turns to leave.
“When?”
The word tumbles from my still trembling lips.
When.
It’s half out of anxious nerves and half out of desperate need, and it makes my cheeks burn even hotter.
Achilles pauses as turns to look at me over his broad shoulder.
“When you want it the most, but expect the least.”
He brings a hand up, miming pressing a mask to his face as a soft click drops from his lips.
Then he’s gone.
I stay there clinging to the ladder, trembling, until his footsteps on the marble floor fade away and all I can hear is the thud of my heart in my ears.
I slip to the floor, still trying to catch my breath as I turn on shaky legs, trying to make sense of what just happened.
What he did to me.
What I let him do.
My hands tremble as I smooth my skirt down and tuck my blouse back in, realizing with a heated shiver that Achilles still has my panties.
I fix my socks and my hair, trying to slow my racing pulse and ignore the slick arousal tingling between my bare thighs as I make my way back upstairs.
But something is different. And it’s not just that I’m not wearing underwear.
It’s not until I’m back in my bed at Morvaine much later, trying to pretend I don’t still feel his eyes on me, still throbbing with this darkness rippling through me, that it all finally clicks into place.
Achilles didn’t put this darkness in me. It's always been there, lurking, throbbing. Simmering.
But he’s the first person who's ever looked directly at it without making me feel like I need to cover it up.
I’ve been watching MaskTok videos and reading Galina’s spicy books and calling it fiction so I didn’t have to own it.
He’s made me realize it’s not.
He’s made me live it.
And I don’t think there’s any going back now.