Chapter 11: The Body Remembers

“Fuck, baby.” He grunts, his hands moving to the sides of my thighs and digging in. “I missed you.”

I roll my hips to meet every thrust and beg for more with nothing but moans and dirty little circles. I lock my legs tighter around him, pull him deeper, and let every filthy, desperate noise spill out of my mouth without caring how loud I am.

Trojan growls against my neck and fucks me harder, the counter edge biting into the backs of my thighs, wet sound filling the bathroom. One of his hands stays on my hip, holding me exactly where he wants me. The other comes back to my breast, squeezing just carefully enough that the ache turns into heat.

I’m already close. The coil in my stomach is winding tighter with every stroke. My body knows his. It knows exactly how to fall apart for him. I don’t know if this was really part of the arrangement, and I don’t care.

I bury my face in his shoulder and come with a shaky cry, clenching around him so hard my vision whites out for a second.

He follows a few thrusts later, burying himself to the hilt and groaning my name against my skin like it hurts him to say it.

We stay locked together, breathing hard, water still running unused in the shower behind us. His forehead rests against mine. My legs are still trembling around his waist.

I was mentally a virgin moments ago. The only sex I’ve ever seen is p**n and I was always so self-conscious to even touch myself, but my body, this body, clearly knows Trojan and reacts to him.

He slides his hands under my thighs and lifts me clean off the counter, still buried deep inside me. The shift makes me gasp and tighten around him, which only earns me a low, satisfied sound against my ear.

He carries me the short distance to the shower like that, every step rocking him inside me just enough to keep the heat from fading. The hot water hits my back as we step under the spray. He sets me on my feet carefully.

Then his mouth finds mine again, devouring me like he’s been starving for the taste. One hand cups the back of my head while the other stays locked on my hip, holding me flush against him as the water cascades over both of us.

He breaks the kiss and I gasp from the sudden loss.

“I’m thinking I should have you barefoot and pregnant again soon,” he whispers, giving me a tiny kiss.

I blink, and can’t help but smile. “I thought the twins were a drunken mistake and we were an arrangement.”

He chuckles. “Yeah. Just not the worst mistake.”

I open my mouth to say something that completely flees my mind because his lips are on mine again and his tongue is caressing mine. He turns me around with firm hands, guiding me until my palms are flat against the cool tile.

My legs feel wobbly, still shaky from the first orgasm, and I have to lock my knees just to stay upright. He kicks my feet a little wider and then he’s pushing back inside from behind in one smooth thrust that forces a breath out of me.

“That’s it,” he murmurs against the wet skin of my shoulder. “Just like that. Take me.”

He starts moving, deeper than before, the angle hitting something that makes my thighs tremble all over again. One of his hands slides around to my front, cupping a still-sensitive breast and rolling the nipple between his fingers just carefully enough that the soreness turns into pure sparks.

The other hand drifts lower, finding my clit and rubbing slow, filthy circles in time with his thrusts.

I drop my head forward and moan openly. “Trojan, I can’t feel my legs.”

My legs are getting weaker by the second. Every time he drives into me I feel myself clench around him, and every time he circles my clit the pressure builds higher. He keeps talking to me in that low, rough voice, telling me how good I feel, how tight I am, how much he missed being inside me. The words sink under my skin and make everything sharper.

“You’re shaking,” he says, almost pleased. “You gonna come for me again?”

His hips slap against my ass, creating a sensation laced with pain. I can’t even move my hips to meet him, the way my legs and thighs feel useless.

“Yes, alpha,” I answer with a moan.

His fingers on my clit never stop. The dual sensation is too much. My legs threaten to give out completely and he has to lock an arm around my waist to keep me upright as the second orgasm rips through me, longer and deeper than the first. I cry out his name and clamp down around him so hard he curses under his breath.

He doesn’t stop. He keeps thrusting through it, riding out every wave until I’m a trembling mess against the wall. Only then does his rhythm break. He buries himself to the hilt with a rough groan and comes hard, hips stuttering as he empties himself inside me for the second time.

My legs are pure jelly. If he wasn’t holding me up I would be on the floor. He presses a slow kiss to the back of my neck, then another to my shoulder, gentler now.

“I’ve got you,” he says quietly.

I just let him hold me up. My heartbeat is still hammering against my ribs and the only thing I can focus on is the solid heat of him behind me and the way my body keeps fluttering around him in little aftershocks. It feels too good. Too easy. Like my body has been waiting for this exact moment and doesn’t care that my mind is still missing entire chapters.

I close my eyes and try to catch my breath, but I slowly drift.

What if Marcus wasn’t lying? What if I really seduced and trapped his dad?