Twins for the Mafia Heir (The Warwicks #3)

18. Emma

Chapter 18

Emma

B efore I can respond, he’s grabbed my shoulder and spun me to face the wall. His chest presses against my back, sandwiching me between the wood paneling and his body.

The hard length of his erection presses against me, and I gasp.

I almost can’t admit it to myself, but I’ve been wanting this all day.

I don’t have time to recover before he’s reached around my body to undo the buttons of my pants. The cold air hits my bare skin hard as he yanks them down, but the heat radiating off his body instantly soothes me. His fingers reach around me again.

He only has to plunge them inside me once to find out that I’m already soaked for him. Achilles pauses, his hot breath puffing against my ear. Slowly, agonizingly, he pushes a third finger into me and finds my G-spot. I press my face into the wall and whine. His breath stops and starts in my hair. I feel the brush of his lips over the crown of my head.

I whine again when he pulls out, but I’m not empty for long. His hands work his cock free from his pants behind me. I bend my back as far as it’ll go, angling my hips up for him, but I’m just too short. He grabs my hips, lifts me up the wall, and brings me down onto his cock.

I scrabble at the wall, desperate for anything to hold onto as Achilles stuffs himself inside me and starts thrusting hard and fast. Every time he plunges in, every time our bodies impact, I ricochet off the wall and back onto him.

“This was what you wanted, Raleigh” he hisses in my ear. “Right? What do you think about it now?”

He’s trying to punish me, trying to use me, but how can he think this is anything less than perfect? I’m ready to scream from the agony of his thrusts against my G-spot. I’m ready to weep at how full he makes me. I’m ready to forget my own name, much less the fake one he knows me by. I’m beginning to lose feeling in my hanging feet, but I hardly care.

Achilles’s lips brush over the shell of my ear- then his teeth bite down on the tender cartilage. I yelp, and he sucks with his lips instead. His breath is so hot it becomes dew on my skin.

Is… Is this a part of my punishment? Does he think I’m hating every second of this?

Because what’s actually happening is that I’m dying to find out what his lips feel like on the rest of my body.

Achilles’s pace is slowing, not speeding up. He drags me off his cock and drops me back onto it with torturous deliberation. Instead of bouncing me off the wall, he rolls his body against mine, pressing me steadily harder against the wood so he can get as deep as possible. A groan starts in his throat, but he bites it back too soon. His hands tighten on my hips, then squeeze my ass, kneading me in his palms like he’s trying to remake me. Like he’s savoring me.

Oh god. My body tightens around Achilles’s cock like a rubber band ready to snap. My panting breaths become soft mews as the pressure builds between my legs. My body is craving surrender, but I just need a little bit more- just a little bit more to push me over the edge-

Achilles reaches around me and drags his fingers up my clit. Like he’s pressed a button, my body releases . Pleasure rolls up my spine and out through my limbs like a wave, cresting higher and higher and higher . I cry out, and Achilles quickly claps his hand over my mouth. I scream against his skin, muffled enough that no one outside this room can hear.

With one hand on my mouth and the other between my legs, Achilles has to let me slide back down to the ground. When he pulls out of me, I cry all over again at the sudden loss of him. He hasn’t cum yet. He can’t stop now-

Achilles snatches my shoulder and turns me to face him, hiking me up in his arms and plunging his cock back into me with a vengeance. The muscles in my legs are jumping and weak from orgasm, but I wrap them around his waist and cling as hard as I can.

Now both his hands are free- and he immediately makes use of them by sliding them all the way up my shirt, shoving the fabric up around my armpits as he does. My bra fastens in the front, and he makes good use of that too. I gasp as he shoves the cups aside to get at my breasts, like he’s unearthing a buried treasure.

His palms brush over my hard nipples, then his hands close over my boobs and squeeze . My curves have always been underdeveloped, but he’s savoring what I have. I can’t help but whimper my gratitude.

There’s another orgasm building between us. I close my eyes like I did last night, pushing everything else away but the pure sensation of his cock inside me. His fingers on my nipples, pinching and plucking at them with teasing skill. The pressure of his forehead braced against mine, and panting breaths against my face.

Again, I break. Again, orgasm careens through me. I press my head back against the wall so hard it almost hurts, silently screaming my ecstasy.

Achilles picks up his pace again. It’s like he’s racing with me to the finish line. His hands grip my ass and pull it off the wall, probably trying to reduce the force of his thrusts on my poor spine. This punishing speed draws my pleasure out longer and longer- and when he finally cums inside me, I shatter to pieces all over again too.

Our bodies roll together in the aftermath, trying desperately to wring every last drop of bliss we can from each other. Achilles kneads my ass, my hips, my thighs, but he doesn’t pull out of me. He doesn’t set me down. I’m braced between his body and the wall, my exhausted legs still twined around his narrow waist. I wrap my arms around his neck, levering myself up just a little higher, so the two of us are eye to eye.

Achilles’s chocolate eyes are dark with lust, his lips parted as he tries to catch his breath. I desperately want to run my fingers through his long curls, but if I do, he might notice what I’m about to do next. He might have the chance to stop me.

I learned my lesson from last night, and I’m not waiting for him to come to me this time. I lean in and kiss him.

The moment our lips touch, it feels like my entire nervous system lights up. Achilles’s lips are devastatingly soft and sweet like wine. His stubble scratches at my chin, but I don’t mind it at all. Achilles tilts his head, deepening the kiss more, and my whole body thrills. His mouth opens, his tongue brushing over my lower lip.

Oh . Last night was nothing to this. The aching pulse of his cock inside my pussy and the claiming sweep of his tongue in my mouth is all consuming. I won’t ever let him get away with not kissing me after this-

And then he turns away.

I’m set down hard on my feet, so suddenly my jelly-like legs almost go out from under me. Achilles turns his back to me again, yanking off his dress shirt and pants, which were hanging on by only a few buttons already. He’s not preparing for another round, though.

He’s just finishing his preparations for bed.

I brace myself against the wall to keep from falling and collect my own discarded clothes. Just like last night, I feel the loss of him keenly, like something I’ve always possessed that was suddenly stolen.

Don’t think about that, Emma. This man doesn’t belong to you. He never has and he never will. Focus on concrete things. Focus on getting one leg into these jeans, then the other.

God, these fucking clothes. One more night with these jeans and this sweater, and then I’ll be free of them. I’ll have my own pajamas again.

No, not mine either. New ones that were bought for me with mystery money.

I could cry from frustration, with Achilles but also with myself. I let him distract me- hell, I wanted him to distract me- and I enjoyed every goddamn second of it. And now I’m left shaken and confused, knowing just as much now as I did several minutes ago.

Defiantly, I don’t put my jeans back on before getting into bed. I pull my bra the rest of the way off and ditch that too. It might seem like a silly thing to him, but going to bed in nothing but my panties and a thin sweater in front of a man is something I’ve never even imagined doing. I’m not even disappointed when Achilles settles in his usual place in the armchair by the fire. Instead, I take it as proof of a suspicion that’s steadily growing inside me.

Whether he likes it or not- whether he even knows it or not- Achilles likes me. And that might just keep me alive in the end.