The Walls of Troy

by L. A. Witt

  Troy moistened his lips. “Hands and knees, then.”

  While he put on the condom and lube, I turned around. My arms were already shaking under me. I was so damned overwhelmed by him even being here, I could barely handle the fact that he was about to fuck me. But he was, and I wanted it, and when he pressed against me, I bore down and leaned back at the same time, and the instant his cock breached me, my vision blurred.

  Troy groaned. “Fuck…”

  “Please do.”

  He laughed and started to withdraw, then pushed in deeper. He worked himself in, eagerly but not so much he’d hurt me, and I grabbed handfuls of bedsheets as I tried to just stay conscious while he started picking up speed. His cock was the perfect size, stretching me enough to make my breath catch, and hitting that perfect spot inside.

  Troy leaned down, wrapping an arm around me, and kissed beneath my ear. “This can’t be wrong,” he murmured, almost groaning. “Feels too fucking good to be wrong.”

  Any other time, I might’ve had the presence of mind to know that wasn’t logically sound, but with the way his dick felt as it slid in and out, and the way his breath cooled my neck and his skin warmed my back, I couldn’t argue. This felt too good to be wrong. It felt fucking amazing.

  Troy dug his teeth into my shoulder, and my arms almost collapsed out from under me, and then he groaned and thrust hard enough to knock me down onto my forearms. He didn’t let me recover—he forced me all the way down, and I couldn’t tell his moans from my own as he fucked me deep and hard and I couldn’t do a damned thing but lie there and take him. Every time he thrust, my cock rubbed against the comforter, and I was in heaven. I was completely at his mercy, and I hoped to God he never, ever stopped.

  “Oh…fuck…” He thrust hard enough to hurt, and I moaned and clawed the comforter as he drove me closer and closer to coming.

  And then he gasped. Forced every inch of himself inside me. And shuddered.

  I turned my head, searching for his lips, and he claimed them in a breathless kiss.

  Barely breaking away, he said, “You didn’t come yet, did you?”

  “N-no.”

  “Good.” He drew back and nipped my ear hard enough to make me gasp. Then he pulled out and ordered, “Turn over.”

  Where this bold, take-charge side of him had come from, I had no idea. I just did as I was told and turned over, and he didn’t even give me a chance to settle onto the mattress before he took my dick all the way into his mouth. I was already climbing the walls, already losing my mind, and then he slid two fingers into my ass, and I almost lost my goddamned mind. Holy fuck, he already had me turned on as hell, but sucking my cock like this while fucking me with his fingers? Bliss. Pure fucking bliss.

  “Just like that,” I whispered, slurring the words. “Oh God, Troy. Oh God. D-don’t stop.” I grabbed his hair. Not enough to force him down on me, just enough to hold on to something.

  Right when I was teetering on the brink, he—Jesus Christ, I didn’t know exactly what he did, but suddenly his fingers were pressed just right against that sweet spot inside, and I was gone. Everything went white, and my whole body was rigid and relaxed at the same time, and I couldn’t even breathe but who the fuck cared, because I was coming and didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, never wanted to stop.

  One last shudder, and I slowly sank back down to earth. “Holy fuck.”

  He slid his fingers free and pushed himself up. He left the bed to get rid of the condom—I assumed, anyway, since my brain had turned to liquid—but came back a moment later. As soon as he was over me, I grabbed him, pulled him down, and he kissed me hard, his mouth salty and demanding.

  Slowly, it turned into a lazier kiss, just holding on to each other and making out for no other reason than it felt good. Eventually, we pulled the sheet back up and faced each other on our sides.

  “I was scared to death to come over,” he whispered.

  “I’m glad you did.” I brushed a few long strands of hair out of his face. “I sure as fuck didn’t have the balls to come to you.”

  He tilted his head slightly. “Because of my dad?”

  I swept my tongue across my lips. “I was afraid of crossing your ex again. And yeah, pissing off your dad. But…” I ran my fingers through his hair. “The biggest thing was I was afraid to face you.” I quirked my lips. “I must sound crazy to you. I’m a damned cop. I’ve wrestled drunk Marines and armed insurgents to the ground. I’ve run toward gunfire.” Trailing my fingers down his cheek, I whispered, “But you scare the hell out of me.”

  Troy curved his hand around the back of my neck and kissed me. “I don’t bite.”

  I laughed softly. “You know what I mean.” Turning serious, I said, “I want you more than I should. And I’m more afraid of losing you than I’ve ever been with anyone else.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” He held my gaze, and I knew he knew what I’d meant by losing him. “I know it’s risky, but nothing has felt right since we split up. And I meant what I said.” He clasped my hand between his. “About talking to my dad and telling him about Ben. He’ll be pissed, but…”

  “He’ll get over it.” I brought his hands up and kissed the back of one. “He’ll be more upset about you putting yourself at risk than not telling him about someone blackmailing him.”

  “Or dating a cop who was supposed to be my bodyguard?”

  “Probably that too.”

  “Well, I’m sure he’ll have an opinion about everything.” Troy slid closer to me. “But not everything about this is up to him.”

  Caressing his face, I whispered, “No, it’s not.”

  “I love you, Iskander.”

  I kissed him tenderly. “I love you too.”

  For the longest time, I held on to him, my heart still racing and my stomach twisting with worry, but more than anything, I was relieved he was here. This was right. In spite of all the reasons it shouldn’t have been, it was right.

  I pressed my lips to his once more. “Why don’t we grab a shower, and then we can go talk to your dad?”

  Troy swallowed but nodded.

  We got out of bed and started for the bathroom, but then I halted. “Wait.”

  He turned around. “What?”

  Grinning, I backtracked toward the bed. “If we’re going to take a shower, maybe we should make sure we have everything we might need.”

  His brow creased with confusion.

  Then I held up a condom and the lube bottle.

  And from the way he grinned back at me, I had no doubt we’d need them.

  Chapter Nineteen

  By the time we’d showered—twice—it was a wonder either of us could walk. Hell, even with the thick walls, I would probably have a hard time making eye contact with my neighbors for a day or two. Oh well. I wouldn’t complain about sitting uncomfortably or awkwardly passing my neighbors in the hall. Not after sex like that, and definitely not now that I had Troy back.

  This wasn’t over yet, though.

  In the bedroom, wearing only a pair of jeans, Troy sat on the edge of the bed. “So what do we do now?”

  I blew out a breath. “I’m not sure.” I sat beside him and rested my hand on his leg. “The thing is, this guy isn’t going to back down. And the longer we go, spending time together in public and here—which he knows is my apartment—the worse it’s going to get.”

  Troy shuddered and drew closer to me.

  I wrapped my arm around his shoulders. “I think we need to sit down with your dad and the security team and come up with a game plan. Whether you’re with me or not, you shouldn’t have to keep living like this.” I planted a light kiss right at his hairline. “Something needs to change.”

  “I just wish getting rid of that asshole was easy. If it was, I’d have done it a long time ago.”

  “No kidding. Were you serious earlier? About
telling your father what’s going on?”

  Blowing out a breath, Troy nodded. “I’m not looking forward to it, but yeah, I’m serious.”

  “Maybe we should do that sooner than later.”

  “Yeah, probably.” He shivered. “What if he freaks out?”

  I kissed his forehead. “He’s going to be upset, but he really wants you to be safe more than anything. Once he’s done screaming at me for seeing you, he’ll focus on what needs to be done to keep this fucker away from you.”

  Troy took my hand. “What about keeping me away from you?”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. One step at a time.”

  “Good idea. Well, let’s do this, then.” He took out his phone and pulled in a deep breath. He wrote a quick text, then showed me the screen.

  Iskander & I want to talk to you & the whole security team. On our way over.

  I nodded. “Good. That’ll work.”

  “Assuming he’s not busy.” He sent the message. “We could be waiting for a little while.”

  “I doubt it. I’m pretty sure your dad would drop anything short of a phone call with the president for this.”

  “Yeah, probably.”

  I kissed his cheek, then patted his leg. “We should get dressed and head out.”

  Once I’d dressed, I put on my shoulder holster, and Troy shuddered when I pulled my pant leg down over the ankle holster. He reminded me a little of how he’d looked at me the first day, when I’d confirmed I was indeed carrying a weapon. It was hard to believe how much had changed since that first day. The threat against Troy was real now. So was Troy, for that matter. He wasn’t a petulant kid manipulating his father into abusing government resources in the name of attention. And that day, when I’d been required by orders and duty to give a damn about his well-being, I hadn’t imagined I’d ever feel this protective of him.

  On the way downstairs, Troy halted. “Damn.”

  “What?”

  He showed me his phone, and the text from his father: Going into a mtg. Will be there ASAP.

  “That could be hours, knowing him,” he muttered, pocketing his phone.

  “Then we’ll wait.” I put my arm around him and kissed his temple. “Do you want to hang around here, or head over there?”

  “Let’s go over there. The longer we stay here, the more likely I am to talk myself out of it.”

  I laughed dryly. “Yeah, me too.”

  We continued down the stairs and across the parking lot.

  “Your car or mine?” I asked.

  “You mind if we take yours?”

  “Not at all.”

  A hesitant smile flickered across his lips, and he headed around to the passenger side.

  I started the engine but didn’t put the car in gear yet. Instead, I reached over and rested my hand on his leg. “You’re really sure about this? Coming clean to your dad about us?”

  “Absolutely.” He laced his fingers between mine. “I’m still not sure if telling him about my ex will blow up in my face, but…”

  “He won’t be happy about this either.”

  “He’ll get over it.”

  “Let’s hope.”

  We locked eyes, and something knotted behind my ribs. I was absolutely certain I wanted Troy, and there was no doubt in my mind I was in love with him, but that didn’t change the fact that there could—and would—be fallout for this.

  I thought about leaning across the console to kiss him, but resisted. Not while there was someone out there who’d hurt him if he caught on to what was going on between us. Even holding his hand over the console was risky, but no one outside the car would be able to see that.

  Still. I squeezed gently, then freed my hand to shift the car into reverse. “It’ll be fine,” I said as I backed out of the parking space. “We’ll figure all of this out.”

  Troy nodded but didn’t say anything.

  As we headed away from my apartment, we didn’t talk. I didn’t even turn on the radio. Troy stared out the window, and I kept my attention fixed on the road in front of me and the cars in the rearview and side mirrors. All the way up the interstate from Norfolk to Virginia Beach, we rode in taut silence. God knew what was going through his mind—I could barely keep a handle on the things going through mine.

  I pulled off the interstate and slowed down on the off ramp. When I turned at the bottom, a black sedan stayed right on my ass. This road was four lanes, so I moved over to let him go by me.

  And he changed lanes too.

  Oh fuck.

  Drivers around here could be insanely aggressive, so I didn’t panic yet. I lightly tapped my brakes, just enough for the lights to come on but not jerk my car. The asshole stayed right on my bumper.

  My blood turned cold.

  I took my foot off the gas, letting the car lose a little bit of speed as we approached an intersection. Then, without signaling or slowing down, I abruptly turned right.

  Troy grabbed the armrest. “Uh, Iskander? Where are we—”

  The squeal of tires silenced him.

  “Damn it!” I gripped the wheel tighter.

  “What?” The panic in his voice was palpable. “What’s going on?”

  I tilted the rearview mirror slightly. “Fucker’s following us.”

  “Are you serious?” He started to crane his neck.

  “Don’t look.”

  He pressed back against the seat. “What the fuck do we do now?”

  “Call the cops.” I glanced in the mirror again. “Tell them we’re being pursued, and we need assistance.”

  “What?”

  “Just do it.”

  “Doing it.” Troy pulled out his phone. He put it up to his ear, and I focused on staying between the lines and ahead of the douche bag behind us.

  “We need the police out by Naval Station Oceana.” Troy’s voice shook a little, but he kept it together. “This guy is following us. No, I’m absolutely certain he is. Yes, ma’am, I know who the driver—”

  The engine behind us roared.

  I had time to say “Shit!” before my jar jolted forward. Hard. My head smacked the headrest. The impact reverberated through me, especially in my hands and wrists as I gripped the wheel tighter.

  “Oh God,” Troy breathed. He flew forward again.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Just picking up—” He sat up, phone in hand. “Hello? He just rammed us.”

  The engine roared again, and the car moved into my blind spot. I braked hard but didn’t do it fast enough, and the road was too narrow to avoid him without putting us into the ditch.

  He rammed us again, this time from the side. The world spun. Tires screamed on the pavement. Before I could recover, he did it again, and this time, we both lost control.

  My car went into the ditch. We hit hard, both grunting as the seat belts caught us. Fortunately, the airbags didn’t go off.

  I looked around. Ben’s car was on the other side of the road, facing the wrong direction.

  I turned off the ignition but left the keys. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” Troy shifted gingerly. “You?”

  “I’m fine.” I withdrew the pistol from my shoulder holster. “Stay here, stay on the line with the dispatcher, and keep your head down.”

  He didn’t argue and instead reached down to pick up his phone off the floorboards again.

  I grabbed my cuffs, stepped out and immediately trained the pistol on the other car. Approaching slowly, I said, “Ben, both hands on the dashboard where I can see them.”

  He leaned over the wheel and put his hands on the dash, fingers splayed out.

  “Step out of the vehicle, Ben,” I ordered. “Slowly and with your hands where I can see them. Now.”

  He turned his head, dark eyes menacingly narrow. “Fuck yo
u,” he snarled.

  “Get out of the car.” I aimed my pistol in through the busted window. “Now.”

  “Asshole.” He made a slow but deliberate gesture of wiping blood from his cheek, succeeding only in smearing it rather than actually clearing it way. “You don’t want me getting out.”

  “I didn’t want to put my car in the ditch either, but you didn’t give me a hell of a lot of choice.” I kept the weapon trained on him and opened his door with the other. “Out.”

  He stepped out, hands in the air, and over my pistol’s iron sights, I was face-to-face with the man who’d abused and traumatized and stalked Troy. My finger twitched on the trigger.

  He was a little bigger than Troy—taller and also wider in the shoulders—but I still had a few inches on him. Not enough to take any chances, though.

  “Put your hands behind your head,” I ordered. “And turn around slowly.”

  Rolling his eyes, he did as he was told.

  I shoved him up against the car with my knee, grabbed his wrist, and yanked it down behind the small of his back. I snapped one cuff around it, then reached for his other arm and—

  He launched himself back against me, and thanks to the uneven ground, I lost my balance. I caught myself, but not fast enough, and he shoved back again, this time sending us both toppling onto the pavement.

  “Iskander!”

  “Stay in the car!” I shouted and threw a fist into Ben’s gut. He grunted and recoiled, but then lunged at me. I twisted to the side, and only his arm caught me instead of his shoulder.

  We grappled on the ground. I pistol-whipped him, stunning him for a second, and grabbed his arm, but he used the uneven ground at the edge of the pavement to his advantage and rolled to one side, knocking me off balance. His elbow connected with my temple, turning the world white for a split second. Before I could recover enough to deflect the next blow, he landed a brutal blow to my left side. Something crunched. Pain. Oh, fucking sweet Jesus, pain.

  I managed to focus enough to lunge for my gun and got my fingers around it in spite of the movement setting the side of my chest on fire.