Page 14 of Taming Achilles

“Don’t call me that,” I placed my thumb over her lips. “Not now, not ever again. Mister Campbell, at best. After dark, it’s sir.” I dipped my thumb between her lips and she sucked it, her eyes on mine. Bitter. As if she was angry that she was playing into my hands. “I’ll keep you safe. Protect you with all the backing of Caledonia Security. But when the sun goes down, you’ll give me my dues. Your body, willing and obedient. There for my pleasure. Understand?”

She was still sucking my thumb. There was a war going on behind her eyes. But she nodded, agreeing to this cursed contract.

“Good.” I pulled my thumb from her mouth with a pop. “Get on your knees.”

She did so slowly, running down the length of the wall, her eyes never leaving mine and going unfocused to the side.

“Will you give me a drink first?” She asked, a small crease that hadn’t existed five years ago tainting the space between her brows.

I got up and poured her a glass of gin, her drink of choice. Just straight gin, no tonic, in a crystal tumbler. I handed it to her, and she drank it in one, long gulp, then handed the glass back to me. I put it back on the bar, then came back to stand over her. All the while, never taking my eyes off of the little broken doll that was seated on the floor.

I undid my belt. Then my zipper. I pulled out my aching, hard cock.

I knew what I was doing was wrong. I knew that I was a right bastard for this. But there was a voice in my mind telling me that I was a fucking genius. I was doing the right thing, to punish her from my system. Her golden veneer would flake off, and I could finally see her for what she was. A lying whore. I could treat her as one, and erase her from my mind as the princess of my dreams. I could cut her from my body like the cancer that she was.

I tugged on it twice and her mouth opened on instinct, ready to receive.

“Now show me how good you are at this occupation.” I placed the tip at her lips and she parted them just slightly, hesitantly.

I twined my fingers through the back of her hair, and with one unrelenting thrust, I pushed to the back of her throat until I heard her gag, and whimper. I released her, and she gasped for air.

She looked up at me like I was the devil himself sent to destroy her. And I was. Because Pippa Fox could not be trusted. She didn’t deserve mercy.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” I growled, placing my hand at the base of my cock, grabbing the back of her head and impaling her face again. “Deeper. Take it all.”

She gagged, but I didn’t let up. She had no choice but to take it. To relax her throat and give in to her new reality. I wasn’t some poor, little rich boy. She wasn’t some fancy baronet’s daughter.

She was a whore, and I was a paying customer. And the customer was always right.

Her throat relaxed and I pushed in even further, feeling the sweet tightness of her throat around my tip. When her lips had me covered to the hilt, I groaned, throwing my head back as I saw stars.

She started to use her tongue, and I was a goner. So close to the edge, my vision blurred and with Herculean effort, I pulled her hair to take her off my cock before I released down her throat.

This wouldn’t be over too quickly. It wouldn’t be over at all, if I had my say. She’d be mine for an eternity, on her knees, begging.

“Take off your clothes,” I told her, zipping myself up and stepping away to a drink cart and pouring myself a Macallan. My seventh one in the last twenty four hours.

She stayed where she was on the floor, her eyes following me as I turned and took a drink.

“Did I stutter, woman?” Being cruel to her came easily. Five years of bitterness was ready to spill out and lash her for her crimes against me. “I said take off your clothes.”

I sat on a large armchair, legs wide to accommodate my cock who protested this turn of events. She still didn’t move, her blue eyes watery, and hurt.

“Is this how it is between us, now?” Her voice was low and weak. “We’re just …”

“There’s nothing between us.” I interrupted her, before she could muddle my thoughts with memories and sentiments. “Not since you put another man’s ring on your finger.”

I took a drink, feeling the burn of my words combining with the liquor as it started to roil in my gut.

Everything was forgivable until that moment when that obnoxious, large diamond was on her slim, graceful hand.

I had been a fool who followed her like a love-sick drunk, taking what scraps she’d offer. Fucking in secret? Fine. I’d take it because it was better than not fucking her at all. Only speaking to her when there was no one around? Fine. The melody of her voice, even in secret whispers, was better than her silence. Craving her, loving her, needing to hold her and only getting her body when she needed to scratch an itch? Fine. I’d take what I could get.

Her father didn’t approve of me. He threatened to ruin my father’s business if I kept pursuing her. But I kept on anyway. Like a boy in love.

The sight of that ring on her finger, Callum's ring no less, tore through me like a knife. All the hope that I had nurtured for so long was now in shambles - destroyed like the shattered pieces of a broken mirror. It wasn't just the betrayal that stung, it was also the reminder of everything I had lost.

Now, I had no illusions. And I was determined to have some fun while I was here.

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