Twins for the Mafia Heir (The Warwicks #3)

12. Emma

Chapter 12

Emma

T he worst I thought would happen to me when I gave Achilles Raleigh’s name instead of mine would be death. I imagined being thrown into a cold cell. Questioning, starvation. If Fantasia decided to turn on me and I didn’t get myself out in time, I might be tortured or killed, though harming their only hostage would be shortsighted on their part.

I never expected marriage. But now that I’m here-

From the moment Achilles touched my cheek, my heart felt strangely at ease. Yes, it was pounding like it could outrun a speeding car, but it wasn’t threatening to send me into cardiac arrest at least. Even more strangely, I was relieved to be told I could close my eyes. That if I wanted to leave this experience entirely in his hands, I could.

But if I thought blinding myself would make my first time with a stranger less overwhelming, I was so wrong. Even the feeling of Achilles unbuttoning my jeans and pulling them down my body felt like he was lighting fires on my skin.

And when he first put his fingers on my clit-

Oh .

At that point, I could’ve opened my eyes. I was no longer afraid. In fact, I was trembling with anticipation, a hunger I’ve never felt before. But I kept my eyes squeezed shut so I could savor every fucking feeling shooting through my body as Achilles thrust his fingers into me.

Of course, if I thought that was mind-blowing, I wasn’t at all prepared for actually feeling his cock fill me up.

Now I’m clinging to Achilles like I’ll fall into a void if I let go. My nails dig into his naked back, but he doesn’t seem to feel the pain. His breath puffs hot against my ear when he thrusts. One of his hands grips the back of my neck, keeping my body anchored to him when a thousand sensations threaten to carry me away.

Every time his cock plunges into me, it feels like he goes deeper. Pleasure is building, inevitable as a falling meteor, in my core. When it breaks, I’m terrified it will overwhelm me. I dig my nails in deeper, breaking Achilles’s skin. His teeth grit, his breath becoming a hiss. He thrusts harder, shocking my spine.

Is this punishment, or recognition?

I don’t have time to figure it out. Suddenly, my body is shattering into a thousand pieces around Achilles’s cock. Bliss, unlike anything I’ve ever felt, explodes up my spine and out through my limbs. I bury my face in Achilles’s shoulder, choking on a scream as another wave of ecstasy crashes over my head.

Our bodies are the only thing I know. The sensation ricocheting between us is all I feel. Achilles’s expensive musk, mixed with sweat and sex, is all I smell. I’m drowning in him, and I don’t even try to fight it.

Whatever he’s doing to me, I want more of it.

Achilles’s heart is pounding into me as hard as his cock. I almost don’t think my body can take more, but what feels like agony is only another incoming orgasm. I bite down on Achilles’s shoulder, scream into his skin, as I blow apart all over again.

“Good girl,” Achilles murmurs, so low I’m almost sure I don’t hear it. His hot breath lingers on my neck and leaves goosebumps when it fades.

He suddenly breaks his rhythm, slowing so he can pull all the way out of me and then slam back in. I shriek into him, driven deeper into the mattress every time he thrusts. And then, at last, he plunges his cock into me one last time, grunting and gasping as he cums inside me.

I’m too stunned to loosen my grip on him in the wake of his orgasm, too out of breath to say anything, if anything even needs to be said. Thank you? That was amazing? Nothing seems adequate.

I feel like he’s asked me to take sleeping pills again, like my body is shutting down one system at a time. Really, I’m just coming back to earth after taking off into the stratosphere in a rocket.

Slowly, Achilles’s hand loosens from the back of my neck. He’s pulling away. Too soon, this is way too soon-

I open my eyes, but it takes a moment for my vision to adjust to the moonlit room. Achilles stares down at me, his eyes so wide I can see the whites around the brown. He’s breathing like a bellows just like me, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. He’s still throbbing inside me, and every time he does, it sends an answering pang through my body.

His gaze travels over my face, lingering on my lips. Is he about to kiss me? My own lips feel too dry, and I lick them in preparation. Achilles’s eyelids droop, his pupils blowing up. I suck in a breath, tilting my head up to be ready-

Achilles jerks back, pulling out of me so suddenly that I gasp at the loss. Achilles looks unfazed. He’s already off the bed and rooting around on the floor for his clothes. Because I had my eyes closed before, this is my first time seeing his long, toned body naked. It lasts mere seconds as he dresses with swift, jerky movements.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, without even looking at me.

I am, but not in the way he’s asking. “N-No,” I whisper. “I’m not hurt.”

“Good.”

He’s fully dressed again, but he doesn’t return to the bed. Instead, he drinks an entire glass of water from the pitcher on the nightstand, stomps across the room, and comes back. His eyes jump around the room, looking for something that I don’t even think exists.

My stomach sinks lower the longer I watch him restlessly pace. There’s a dissonance growing between the fading pleasure in my body and the feelings roiling around in my chest, and it’s starting to make me ill.

Finally, Achilles stops in front of the fireplace. I’ve never felt warmer in my life, but nevertheless he pokes around at the logs and grabs matches off the mantelpiece. In seconds, he has a fire blooming.

This silence is… suffocating. Now that I know what it feels like to be full, I’ve never felt emptier. I search my whole brain for something to break it, for a question to ask, but I don’t dare speak. Achilles is angry, and I can only assume he’s angry at me. Was it not as good for him? Was I a disappointment? Should I have done more?

I watch him settle into the armchair before the fire, clearly having picked his place of rest for the night. I can’t fathom how he can stand to feel what I’m feeling.

No- what the hell am I saying? Done more? I asked Achilles to give me my first time, and he agreed, and it was- incredible. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m a hostage, and a hostage imposter at that. Of course Achilles doesn’t want to draw this out. This was nothing more than a service to him, one he felt obliged to provide me.

And just because this was my first time and it blew my mind and I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again- it has to be the same for me too. I can’t afford to be feeling anything.

“Go to sleep, Raleigh,” Achilles says from the chair.

I startle, realizing I’ve been staring at him this whole time. And he’s been staring back. The firelight turns his face into a mask split down the middle, one made of warm angles, the other a total void.

This time, he’s not telling me to take any sleeping pills. Does that mean he’s planning to stay awake, like a guard dog?

The alienation in my chest settles deeper, into my very bones. Raleigh. That’s right. That’s who I am. That’s who he thinks he’s just fucked. Not me.

I lay down on my side, my back to Achilles so he can’t see the confliction on my face. There’s a vice gripping my lungs, making it impossible to take deep breaths.

I refuse to believe I’m about to cry. I refuse to give up on my deeply ingrained habit of disappearing into whatever role I need to survive.

And above all else, I refuse to admit that, when Achilles was deep inside me and holding me tight, I forgot that I am absolutely nothing to him.