Page 16 of Killian's Vengeance

I took everything and set it down on the table. “Thank you. You’re free to go.”

“Who is that girl?”

I looked up to find her standing in front of me, hands on her hips, her chin tilted in challenge. What the fuck was going on here?

“None of your business.”

“None of my business? You acted like you liked me. Like we might start getting more serious.”

My jaw nearly dropped. What the fuck? “Seriously? We’ve played together. That’s it. I don’t know your phone number. I don’t even know your last name.” That last part wasn’t true, but I needed her to understand just how not together we were.

She gasped as if I’d stabbed her, her eyes brown pools of hurt. I was unmoved by these theatrics because that’s exactly what they were. Overwrought melodramatics by a girl who was used to getting all the attention. I knew for a fact she’d hit on Cullen at some point, but he turned her down. We didn’t fuck the same women.

As if suddenly registering the full extent of my apathy toward her, she ran to me and started rubbing her hands on my chest. She was wearing a short black skirt and a black bustier, her cleavage bulging over the neckline. She rubbed her exposed cleavage into my chest as she patted me. “I’m sorry, Kill, I just get a little possessive of my men. Nobody makes me feel like you, and I don’t like other girls trying to take my toys away.”

I stared down at her, aggravated to have to deal with drama when I made such an effort to avoid it at all costs. I’d never had a woman make assumptions about our relationship because I was usually too much of an asshole for them to get the wrong idea. But Cara was new. While I’d been coming here for years, Cara had just started working here about two months ago. She was the spoiled daughter of the shipping magnate, Bryson Blanchard, and only took a job here to aggravate him and get her kicks. She’d gone after Logan initially, but he did not fuck his employees, so she moved on to me.

I wasn’t even going to touch her comment about me being her toy. She’d probably said it to piss me off, which it did, but I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of rising to the bait. And to be honest, considering how much money she’s had all her life, she probably did consider men toys.

I lifted her hands off my chest, giving her a hard stare. “We’re not together, Cara. We were never together. I can spend my time with anyone I want.” My hands still on her wrists, I gave her a slight push toward the door. “You can go.”

Her eyes flashed and cheeks reddened with anger. Cara wasn’t someone who was accustomed to being turned down, for sex or anything else, I suspected. “Fine,” she spat and swept out the door.

I let out a breath and rolled my eyes. Jesus Christ, like I needed more on my fucking plate right now. As if on schedule, Willa emerged from the bathroom, a cloud of sweet-smelling bath products wafting around her. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders in damp, blonde waves. Her skin looked translucent and flawless, her cheeks scrubbed clean and delightfully pinkened.

My mouth went dry as my eyes skated over her body, which was beautifully revealed in the outfit I’d provided. I only had fetish wear or men’s clothes to choose from, and there was no way I was picking men’s wear for her.

I found her a little baby doll dress, which was one of the tamer outfits the club had, because I thought it would be most comfortable with her lash marks and also because I couldn’t fucking resist. Christ, my dick was like a brick in my pants as I stared at her.

The dress was short, white, and spaghetti-strapped with a light-blue, satin sash under the bust. I didn’t think she even realized it was fetish wear and how fucking transparent the material was. I could just see the outline of her nipples and it was already driving me fucking crazy.

“Was this really the only thing you could find?” she asked, looking at me dubiously.

Okay, maybe she did know.

“Yeah. Everything else would have rubbed your lash marks,” I said, my voice gritty with lust. “Come here, I need to put some arnica on your welts.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her to the bed. Though I was hesitant to use the bed, just for the memories it probably had for her, it was the easiest place to apply the lotion

“Lie down on your stomach and pull the top of your dress down.”

She looked at me like I was out of my fucking mind. Fair enough, considering the circumstances.

“Willa, this stuff will greatly reduce the pain of the welts. In fact, you probably won’t really feel them by tomorrow if you let me put it on.” A bit of an exaggeration, but it would make her feel better. I was also desperate to get my hands on her skin.

Though her blonde brow puckered with a suspicious frown that I found fucking adorable, she scooted around me, got her knees on the bed and laid down. Once she was settled on her stomach, she pulled her dress down to her waist, her breasts still pressed against the mattress.

I walked over and straddled her thighs, careful to not brush against the cane mark on her ass. My dick was already throbbing in my jeans. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to get through this without coming in my pants, especially as I stared at the lashes I put on her skin. Remorse and desire lanced through my body in equal measure. Her true suffering didn’t bring me any pleasure, but it was hard to control the surge of lust at seeing my marks on her beautiful skin.

I quickly grabbed the bottle of lotion and warmed some in my hand, then rubbed it gently on her whip marks. She shivered, probably both due to the temperature of the lotion and the sensitivity of the lacerations. I continued to gently apply it until all the marks on her back were covered, thankful that I’d only been able to give her four strikes. While I was applying lotion, I also massaged muscles that became tight and knotted while she was immobilized on the bed. The deep, relaxing motion of my hands quickly had her groaning and sinking into the mattress. I smiled in satisfaction, while my cock jerked at her throaty moans.

After long minutes of rubbing lightly rubbing her muscles, I paused, my hands holding the hem of her dress. “Willa, I need to lift your dress to put lotion on your cane mark and whatever marks you have from the flogging. Are you okay with that?”

Long seconds ticked by as I anxiously awaited her answer. The pause made me aware of how much I wanted this woman—a woman who at any minute could hop up, tear out of here, head to the police station, and land me in deep shit. Not that I didn’t deserve it, but still.

“Okay,” she said in a small voice, as if agreeing went against her better judgement.

I lifted her dress and sucked in my breath. “Willa, where are your panties?” Thank fuck I hadn’t known she was bare earlier, or I would have never lasted during that massage.

She raised her head to answer me. “I put them on, but they rubbed the mark. I knew I’d be sitting down to eat, so I thought I’d leave them off for a bit. I didn’t know you’d…you’d be lifting up my dress!” she said, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

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