Patroclus follows me out of the bathroom, a strange look on his face as I carefully toss Helen onto the bed. She bounces, but she’s fast, already rolling before she hits the mattress a second time. I snag her calf and flip her onto her back. “Don’t tell me one orgasm was enough for you.” I dodge a kick aimed at my face. “Be a good girl and spread your legs.”
“Fuck you!” Her words are harsh, but her eyes dance and she’s obviously fighting down a smile.
I laugh. Gods, this is fun. “If you don’t play nice, I’m going to tell Patroclus to hold you down.”
Her amber gaze flicks to him, and I see the exact moment she realizes that will get her off even harder. “Oh no,” she drawls. “Not that.” When I don’t immediately move, she curses and tries to kick me in the face again.
Brat.
“Patroclus.” I don’t have to lift my voice because he’s only a few feet away. “Hold her down.”
I watch him closely as he moves onto the bed. If either of them show the first sign of their injuries being more serious than they and the doctor claim, I’m shutting this whole thing down.
Patroclus kneels on the mattress above Helen’s head and catches her wrists, pressing them to the bed. She struggles, but I can tell she’s not fighting as hard as she could. I catch her eyeing his ribs, and my chest goes warm at how she’s taking care of him without being overt about it. Good girl. I move up between her thighs and press them wide and up, spreading her obscenely.
What a picture we make.
Patroclus is breathing harder than the effort to hold our princess down requires, and his cock is so stiff, it’ll be a fucking miracle if he doesn’t come just from the foreplay. It’s fine if he does. We have all of tonight and tomorrow. I plan on tucking these two in for some rest after I fuck the worry right out of their heads, but that doesn’t mean it has to be rushed.
Every muscle in Helen’s body quivers as she tries to fight our superior strength. Her pussy, though? She’s so wet, she’s practically dripping. I lick my lips and she makes a little whimpering sound that goes straight to my balls. Yeah, I can’t wait to get my mouth all over Helen Kasios again. I glance at Patroclus. He looks turned on and conflicted about it.
First, though, a few ground rules.
“You want to stop, tell us.”
Helen blinks at me, a little frown pulling at the corners of her lips. “But saying stop can be sexy.”
“Say ‘wait’ instead,” Patroclus says slowly. “We’ll check in.”
She considers this and finally nods. “Okay, that’s fair. Same goes for you two, though.”
I don’t bother to tell them that it won’t be an issue with me. I appreciate the thought. There’s a level of caring that I’ve only experienced with Patroclus, and I’m too turned on to think too hard about it. Maybe later, when I’m not looking at the perfection that is Helen’s naked body, her pussy an invitation I have no intention of declining. “Sure.”
“Yeah.” Patroclus’s voice has gone hoarse.
I don’t give her a warning before I move, quickly sliding down and releasing her thighs. She only has a second to tense before I band my forearm across the back of her thighs and press them up. I can’t spread her as wide like this, but it’s fine. I don’t need to in order to accomplish what I want. I drag the tip of my finger over her slit. “I’ve changed my mind about you.”
“Ask me if I care.” The sharp words don’t match her breathy tone.
“You care.” I hold her gaze as I press a single finger into her. Not enough to do more than tease her, though fuck she feels good. “Do you want to know why?”
“Enlighten me.”
“Because I only play with people I like.” I press a second finger into her.
It’s entertaining as fuck to watch her expressions flicker. Desire and confusion and need. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m going to play with you, princess.” I nod at Patroclus even as I twist my wrist, exploring her until I find the spot that makes her give another of those delicious whimpers. “How many times do you think we can make her come before we crash, Patroclus?”
He blinks. “You mean before her body gives out.”
“Oh my gods.”
I keep stroking her G-spot with my fingertips and pretend to consider. “Sure. Before her body gives out or before we crash. Whichever comes first.”
“Helen comes first.” He shifts, pressing her wrists harder into the mattress. “I think you can beat our record.”
“Game on.”
26
Helen
I’m still having a hard time processing that I’m here, in between these two men, when Achilles starts eating me out. When Patroclus is between my thighs, he’s methodical. Achilles goes after me like he can’t get enough, like he’s less worried about getting me off than he is about tasting every inch of me. It’s sexier than I could have dreamed, and all the while he keeps up that steady rhythm with his fingertips inside me.
I don’t remember closing my eyes, but when I open them, Patroclus is staring down at me. He studies my face as if determined to memorize every piece of me. As if he can see beneath my skin to the selfish, petty, ambitious woman beneath. He shifts back, still maintaining his grip on my wrists, and eases down onto his stomach on the bed.
Patroclus’s lips brush the shell of my ear. “You fight so fucking hard, Helen. To be taken seriously. To be seen as a person. To forget how often neither of those things happen.” He speaks in a soft murmur completely at odds with the way Achilles is sucking on my clit.
I tense. I didn’t ask for this. I’m already held down and spread open. Being stripped bare, too? It’s too much. “Stop.”
Between my thighs, Achilles pauses, but stop isn’t wait. After the barest of hesitations, he resumes, settling into a rhythm of rubbing the flat of his tongue against my clit. My whole body goes tight in response. “Please.” I don’t know what I’m asking for. Patroclus to stop before he says something I can’t take. Achilles to make me come so hard, I stop thinking entirely. Both. Neither.
Patroclus, devil on my shoulder, just keeps spilling words directly into my ear. “Has anyone ever taken care of you, Helen? Not as a prize to be shown off but as a woman?”
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.