The darkness of her room covers the heavy blush that surges over my face, thank God. I go back to the bathroom and grab the Tylenol and a glass of water, putting both on Wren’s bedside table.
“I really don’t deserve you,” she sighs, closing her eyes as I sit on the edge of her bed and tuck the covers up around her chin.
“Sure you do, dorkface,” I grin. “Get some sleep. Love ya.”
I start to stand, but her hand lands on mine, stopping me.
“Lena.” Her eyes open a crack. “This person you were texting who you won’t tell me about?”
I sigh. “Wren?—”
“I hope they deserve you.”
She's out even before I leave the room. I brush my teeth, change into PJs, and climb into bed. But even though I’m tired, and a little drunk, and should definitely go to sleep…I can’t.
It’s not just my thoughts keeping me up.
It’s what those thoughtsdoto me.
I shiver with heat as I squeeze my thighs together. My pulse accelerates as I let my imagination wander back to The Garrison, then deeper into the woods.
Wherehemight be waiting for me.
Ready to chase me. Hunt me. Pin me down, rip my fucking clothes off, and take whatever he wants.
Idoknow the difference between all this and what happened with Kyle.
Here, I have a safe word, and I’ve had it every time I’ve crossed Achilles’ path.
I’ve had it and made the conscious choice,everytime, not to use it.
Right now in my imagination is no exception.
I squirm, my thighs rubbing together before I finally just push my pajamas and panties down. A soft moan falls from my lips as my fingers slide through the slick, eager lips of my pussy, and when I curl two of them inside me, I gasp.
I twist onto my side, kicking the covers away and then yanking off my t-shirt. I spread my legs, lifting and bending one knee as I lie there and push my hand back between my thighs. My clit feels electrified, and I gasp louder as I start to rub it in slow, deliberate circles. I cup my breasts with my other hand, pinching my nipple and then doing it again, harder. I twist the aching bud, moaning and rolling my hips as I start to let my fantasies run wild.
Achilles, chasing me through the woods.
Grabbing me by my ponytail and using it to yank me to the ground.
Your hair x my fist.
I picture him shoving me onto my side and coming up behind me, grabbing my tits just like I am now, and brutalizing my aching nipples as I writhe in dark pleasure. I imagine his hand circling my throat and squeezing, feel his possessive touch sliding down my ribs and over the curve of my hip.
I let myself drown in the fantasy, my fingers plunging in and out of my pussy. I canfeelthe heat of his body against my back. The ripple of his muscles as he grabs me. The scent of?—
The scent breaks the spell.
Mint and cloves, masculine and spicy.
My body spasms, as if to lurch from bed.
But I can't.
Achilles’ hands—his real ones—wrap around my throat and grab my hip, yanking me close until my back is flat against the strong, warm planes of his chest, the rippled grooves of his abs…
…And the heavy, thick,bulginglength of his hard, huge cock as it pushes between my thighs, dragging a haggard whimper from my throat as the swollen head bumps over my clit.