He might as well have split open my rib cage and ripped my heart right out of my chest. This is only supposed to be sex, to be a convenient escape from how ugly the inside of my head is right now. It’s no supposed to be Patroclus or Achilles—or both—seeing me. “Stop,” I whisper.
“Do you really want me to stop?” He kisses my neck and then nips my earlobe. “It could be like this. You don’t have to pretend with me—with us. We don’t expect perfection. We just want you.”
My eyes burn and I blink rapidly, hating the tears that slip free. I can’t concentrate, can’t even think. “You don’t…” Whatever protest I’m trying to make disappears as Achilles sucks hard enough on my clit to bow my back.
He shifts to nip first one thigh and then the other. “You’re making her cry.” I can’t tell if he’s pleased or bothered by it.
“I’m just telling the truth.” Patroclus kisses my neck and moves to my shoulder. “You want to keep her.” Patroclus pauses as if waiting for Achilles to deny it. When he stays silent, Patroclus continues. “We want to keep her.”
Keep me.
The very idea should infuriate me. I am not someone to be kept. The whole reason I’m here in the first place is to avoid that fate…
Except when Patroclus says they want to keep me, it doesn’t feel like he’s saying they want to keep me in a gilded cage, a trophy wife to bring out for parties and events to prove what badass guys they are. Taming Helen Kasios and all that bullshit.
No, when he says keep, it sounds a whole lot like…
“You’re thinking too hard. Stop making her think too hard.”
Achilles sounds so irritated, I smile despite myself. “Maybe you’re just not doing a good enough job.”
He lifts a brow, a devastatingly cocky expression on his face. “Hmmm. Guess I need to up my game, then.” He glances at Patroclus, and they share one of those silent conversations I envy so much. This time, I get flashes of intent. Achilles is asking a question. Patroclus grunts in response. I don’t know the nature of the question, but I’m ridiculously pleased to have picked up even that much.
So pleased that I don’t have time to tense before they move as a unit. Patroclus grabs me under the arms and lifts me as he rises. He eases onto his back on the bed with me straddling him facing Achilles. “What…” My voice trails off as Achilles wraps a fist around Patroclus’s big cock.
He gives me that wicked grin that promises all sorts of fun and pleasure. “Up.”
No mistaking his intent. I rise slowly and bite my bottom lip as he drags Patroclus’s cock through my folds. Back and forth. Back and forth. He catches against my entrance, and I start to sink down, but Patroclus grabs my hips, holding me in position. “Not yet.”
“But I want it.”
“Not even a princess always gets what she wants.” Achilles stops any argument by dipping down and sucking Patroclus’s cock into his mouth. His cheeks hollow beneath his beard and he hums with obvious pleasure.
I go still as I realize what’s happening. He’s tasting me on his boyfriend’s cock. He’s obviously a fan because he gives Patroclus one last rough suck and then his mouth is on my pussy again. This time, the sight is even better than before.
Patroclus’s hands denting the skin at my hips as he fights both me and gravity to keep my body aloft. His hard cock practically throbbing with need and wet from Achilles’s mouth. Achilles’s eyes holding my gaze as he works my clit exactly how I need to get off.
For as long as I live, I’m never going to forget my time sharing a bed with these men.
Never forget? I might laugh if I could breathe though the orgasm barreling down upon me. More like I’ll be scandalizing my grandchildren someday recounting the time I allowed myself to be seduced by two warrior men.
Patroclus’s hands tighten on my hips, and it’s the only warning I get before he slams me down on his thick cock. I didn’t even realize Achilles had positioned him at my entrance.
I come so hard I scream, but Achilles doesn’t stop that decadent motion with his tongue against my clit. Patroclus starts rocking me on his cock, the tiniest movement that has my toes curling. “Gods!”
“Nah.” Achilles leans back and licks his lips. His beard is soaked from me, and a dark, possessive part of me loves the sight. He kisses his way up my stomach, pausing to lavish my breasts with attention before kneeling before us. Through it all, Patroclus keeps me rocking on him, keeps me on edge. Achilles frames my face with his big hands. For once, he looks devastatingly serious. “Let us keep you, Helen.”