Page 51 of Pretty Threats

“Killian,” I groan.

He stops, and his big hand massages my flaming ass. It feels vulnerable and slightly swollen. Below my belly, his cock is rock hard, which makes my pussy even wetter.

I swallow, tempted to beg him to do more.

As if reading my mind, his fingertips tap my ass. “Get on your hands and knees.”

My eyes widen. “Hands and knees? Really?”

“Yeah, so I can fuck you, little slave.”

A breath of protest escapes. “Killian,” I say in a warning tone.

His face is ruthlessly unsympathetic. “Or you can disobey, and I’ll spank you some more.”

A flaming blush probably makes my face as red as my ass. I kind of enjoyed the spanking, but it’s not what I want right now.

Moving slowly, I get on my hands and knees. His hand cups my pussy, and I realize, with deep mortification, that he’s checking to see whether I’m excited by this game. When his palm comes away wet, he knows I am.

I wait, shivering, while he puts a condom on. Then he moves behind me and presses his cock slowly into me. The stretch feels good, but I’m also sore. Killian’s hands grip my hips tightly and then he starts to fuck me more roughly than he ever has.

Within minutes, I’m crying out and begging him to turn me over. I need something to rub against my clit. So badly.

He releases my hips. “Get on your back, and grab your knees and pull them up toward your shoulders.”

My body burns so fiercely I don’t even hesitate. When I’m holding my knees the way he wants, everything private is exposed.

He looks down at me like he wants to hate-fuck me into next week. I don’t understand why he seems hostile.

“This is a good position for fucking your ass, too.”

Sucking in a startled breath, I start to let go of my knees, but he shakes his head. Something about his expression keeps me from challenging him.

I’m so open and so slick that when he drives into my pussy, there’s no resistance at all. He moves so his pelvis grinds against my clit, and then he rocks his hips so I get endless rubbing until I come.

While I’m still spasming around his cock, he grabs my wrists and pins them over my head while he goes back to fucking me like I’m a sex toy. Which I kind of am.

I struggle, which only seems to excite him more. So, I fight harder.

Letting someone like Killian mix violence with sex is dangerous, but the adrenaline rush and the battle as we look into each other’s eyes triggers something inside me… It’s as though we’re made of hot wax and when we cool off, we’ll be fused together, not knowing where one of us ends and the other begins.

His grip on my wrists is painfully tight as he slams into me. His head drops and he growls in my ear. “I will never let you go.”

In the secret dark recesses of my mind, I answer him. Good. I don’t want you to.

When he finally comes, we’re both breathless.

I don’t have to ask whether this was the best sex of his life with anyone. I know it was. Killian has a hard time feeling things. There’s an emotional numbness that coats his soul the way zinc sunscreen covers skin. Thick. Almost suffocating. He’s implied that, with me, he feels more than he can with other people. I guess that’s why he enjoyed seeing the blood after we stabbed each other. That night was intense enough to make an impression on even him.

Through ragged breaths, he rasps into my ear, “I want you like my life fucking depends on it. I thought that would stop if I finally got to fuck you for real.” His breath burns my skin and ruffles my hair. “It hasn’t stopped, though. It’s worse than ever.”

22

RAINE

We rest for a while without saying a word. Finally, he sits up.

Killian’s hand runs down my body from breast to hip, as though he’s stroking the leather interior of his expensive car. Licking his lips, his eyes meet mine. “Thirsty?”

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