CHAPTER EIGHT #3
I wondered if he thought about my past when he was teasing me, and if so, I wondered if he cared. I couldn’t allow myself to examine what was happening too closely.
I’d spent the last decade denying what had happened at that Russian camp. So much so that I didn’t remember any of the abuse I’d suffered. The memories were hazy, sitting at the periphery of my mind, just past a secure wall I’d built, tall and strong, to shield me from them.
They felt like little weeds, desperate to claw their way in, to contaminate the lovely garden I now tended. Where roses and lilies grew neatly, alongside manicured shrubs. Of thoughts about shopping sprees and yacht vacations, and of admirers who only dared look but never touch.
I had managed to forget.
In order to live.
In order to survive.
But it came with a price. I had mastered the art of disconnecting my body from my soul when I got into bed with someone.
I never made eye contact, never completely loosened up; I always kept the encounter on surface level.
Enough to draw pleasure but not enough to penetrate the mental wall of security I barricaded my emotions behind.
The more Achilles teased my pussy from behind, the wetter I became, until I found myself grinding my nipples against the vanity, desperately seeking the friction as my vision blurred with lust.
Jesus, what was wrong with me?
The answer is too much and you damn well know it.
I couldn’t wait to have his cock inside me.
When my pussy began making wet, embarrassing sounds, Achilles decided to guide his cock from my entrance up to my clit, spreading the wetness around.
Despite my best efforts, I let loose a small moan, which I immediately killed with a lip bite.
I felt his shredded six-pack quaking against the curve of my ass with a wry chuckle.
“You like that, huh?” he purred. “Do you always get wet for men who fuck you for favors?”
“I’m not—” I started lying, but then he pushed two thick fingers into me from behind, his dick momentarily springing between us and slapping my ass cheek.
My core clenched against his fingers greedily, welcoming him in, coating him with my arousal.
He spread his index and middle fingers inside me, stretching me to an uncomfortable and achingly delicious limit.
Another moan escaped me, this time louder and accompanied by a shudder. Fuck.
Another mocking laugh.
“No weapon here. Let’s check the next hole.”
He withdrew his fingers from me and I heard the sound of his mouth popping as he sucked them clean. A fresh rush of heat rolled between my legs. I wanted him to drop to his knees and eat me out from behind.
In the mirror, I caught a glimpse of him spitting on his index finger.
He guided it into my tight hole, spreading his saliva around the rim and slicking the area before pushing inside.
My ass cheeks clamped around the assault, another groan of pleasure tumbling out of my mouth.
It was both humiliating and arousing beyond belief.
He wiggled his finger inside me a little. “Hmm. Not here, either. Where is it, Little Flame?”
“Suck a bag of dicks,” I moaned into the marbled surface. He slowly withdrew from my ass, letting my muscles pulse and clench around his finger, begging it to stay.
Next, his hand traveled up my waist and toward my bra. Simple cotton covered my modest tits.
His palm slid past the material of my bra, cupping my breast and toying with my nipple until it hardened. My entire body was humming, begging to be invaded. He trailed his hand along the band. His fingers halted on a small device tucked inside it.
Shit.
“Mini double-agent fixed blade?” he asked blandly.
“Urban edge,” I corrected, as he carefully slid it from my bra and pocketed it in his shorts.
“Cute.” He grabbed his dick, swirling its head against my opening again.
My mind and body rioted against one another. I was nauseous with anger at what he was doing to me, even if I did bargain my way into this position. But my body came alive, brimming with sensations I’d never felt before.
And because I couldn’t take it anymore, not the desire nor the humiliation, I bit out, “Are you going to fuck me already, or can I take a nap?”
That made him push all the way inside me in one go and without any warning.
He was huge, and it was painful. I had no time to prepare for it. I squirmed and shifted, trying to accommodate him, the burn between my legs intensifying.
Because of course the bastard just had to have a glorious cock.
His balls slapped the back of my thighs. The tiniest groan escaped him—the sole sign he was enjoying himself. Instead of grabbing my waist like a normal person, he wrapped my long hair around his fist, tugging so his lips pressed the shell of my ear.
“Took me fifteen fucking years,” he grunted, withdrawing and slamming into me again. “But I finally broke her.”
He rode me like I was an unruly mare, with jerky, punishing strokes designed to show dominance. Each time he thrust into me, my clit hit the doorknob of the vanity, and I found myself rubbing against it.
My muscles shook. An ache grew between my legs, begging to be unfurled; I was going to come. I was going to come from a man who had taken me in vengeance. It surprised me because usually I needed my partner to hit me to get there.
We were both so screwed up, it was amazing we didn’t make it as a couple.
Achilles yanked my hair, extending my neck. “Watch yourself get fucked by the man you tried to ruin,” he hissed huskily. “Who’s ruined now?”
He held the hem of his hoodie mid-torso so he could watch himself slamming into me. “Now that’s a sight,” he growled. “Not so feisty anymore, are you?”
“You’re a dick,” I hissed out.
“I’ll take your word for it.” I heard the grin in his voice, his abs bunching to a bulging six-pack under his ink. “After all, you’re the expert.”
He thrust harder, faster, making me bump against the counter again and again. I wanted to hate it. I wanted to hate him. But I was incapable of either.
I tried to conjure a sassy response, but all I could manage was desperately squeezing his cock for dear life.
I was close.
So close.
My mouth fell open, and I felt an orgasm seizing every muscle and cell in my body when he pulled out suddenly. Hot, sticky cum spurted onto the backs of my thighs. Then he pushed me down so my knees hit the floor roughly and pumped his cock to come into my hair.
The goddamn bastard. I was going to end him.
“What the fuck?” I scrambled up, pushing at his chest. He stepped sideways from me, flicked on the tap, and pushed his still-erect cock under the water, washing the traces of me from his skin.
“What kind of animal are you?” I cupped my hands under the tap, gathering some water I intended to clean my hair with.
“Don’t touch it,” came his dry retort as he tucked himself back into his shorts. “I want you to walk around with my crusty cum all over your hair. Remind you who’s the bitch now.”
“I didn’t come.”
“Yeah.” He rolled his tongue over his front teeth in a devious smirk. “That wasn’t accidental.”
“Are you punishing me?” I seethed.
“Hey, I just had my dick in your cunt. I’m punishing both of us.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I needed to not lose my shit and bite my tongue if I wanted to get out of this situation in one piece. Achilles was a psychopath. A real one. And unlike my brother, he wouldn’t think twice before offing someone who annoyed him.
With a shake of my head, I pulled my underwear up and tugged my dress down. I didn’t try to make myself presentable. There was no point. I was going out there looking like I’d been thoroughly fucked and like I didn’t care one iota if everyone knew.
We exited the lavatory and made our way back to the sitting area. I headed toward my side of the plane when Achilles reclaimed his seat and slapped his thigh. “In my lap, Piccola Fiamma.”
The prick was really going to milk every single second of this arrangement. But it was too late to back down, especially when I’d already started paying for my freedom.
I assumed my place on his thigh and scrolled through my phone, ignoring the curious gazes Nico and Fabio threw at me. Thankfully, Jeremie still had his nose buried deep in his phone, minding his own business.
I could feel the others’ imploring eyes on my face, though.
“Anyone got something to say?” Achilles growled, staring down each of his soldiers with a wrathful glare. He yanked me closer, almost protectively. My back slammed against his chest. “Because I’d just love to hear what’s going on in those empty heads of yours.”
“Nope,” “Sorry, Boss” was said in chorus. Jeremie didn’t reply. He seemed above the bullshit. A true Rasputin through and through.
“Good,” Achilles said slowly, his palm resting on my thigh. “Now look the other way before I claw your eyes out.”
The soldiers busied themselves—one with a book, the other rearranging his Rolex on his wrist.
“Fuck’s sake, Jer.” Achilles popped a piece of gum into his mouth, not offering me any. “Whose thirst trap are you ogling on Instagram?”
Jeremie quickly turned his phone screen-down, but Fabio still managed to steal a glimpse. “Whoever she is, she looks Italian,” he snorted.
Achilles shook his head seriously. “Then I hope for his sake he isn’t planning on more than a quick fuck. Alex wants him back in Vegas.”
Jeremie glanced up with an expression suggesting he wanted to off all of us for interrupting him, a glare so intense and full of evil, it might as well have been a war declaration.
Achilles was wrong. Whoever she was, he was going to keep her.
Even if the entire world had to pay the price.