Page 45 of Jamie

“I need to keep my family safe,” I said. Lied. I needed to keep them safe, but it wasn’t enough. Not even close. I needed vengeance like oxygen. I needed to watch something burn. I needed fire licking up the sides of my soul, the kind that turned everything else to ash. I needed it in my bones, in my blood. I needed itnow.

“Fuck!” He snapped and placed his hand on the scanner, and the elevator doors opened smoothly. He yanked me inside, and I didn’t argue. If he was taking me in there to kill me, I wasn’t going to make it easy—he had the height, the smooth moves, and a lot more weight on me, but I’d still fight.

The doors closed, and I expected him to press the inside hand scanner to take us up. Instead he stared at me and the elevator didn’t rise. We were private, contained, but I didn’t kid myself that we weren’t being recorded in here. This was spy-level shit, and I might not know cameras and recording devices as well as I knew the insides of code, but I wasn’t stupid.

Fear lit something up in me. It wasn’t just adrenaline—it was raw, wrong, arousal. The kind that hit low and hard and came from how he looked at me as if he knew me. As if the nights of sex meant he had a window into my soul.

No one knows me.

“What have you found?” I asked again.

He stared at me, eyes dropping to my mouth, his pupils flaring wide. Then, his tongue flicked out to wet his lower lip, slow and deliberate, as if he didn’t mean to do it—or maybe he did. The air between us thickened, dense with something unspoken, raw and electric. He didn’t understand me, not really. But I didn’t need him to. All I needed was an answer to the one question that mattered—was I free to destroy the people who had hurt my family?

“Just because I’m fucking you doesn’t mean you get to come here and cause issues with me and the team.”

“What have you found?” I repeated.

He stepped closer, hustling me into the corner. “We’re still plotting all the links.”

Frustration bit deep, hot and restless under my skin. My fingers itched for something, anything. I slipped a hand into my pocket, curling it tight around my lighter. Cold metal. Familiar shape. I clutched itlike a lifeline, as though it could ground me—or spark the chaos I needed. One flick and I could breathe again. One flick and maybe the pressure would bleed off enough to make the waiting bearable.

I blinked at Killian, who crowded me. “I just need to fix things,” I blurted.

Killian cut me off with a sharp look, voice steel-edged. “No more bullshit, Jamie. I know what you need.” His voice was hoarse with restraint. His hand drifted low, adjusting himself with a tension that crackled in the small space between us. Of course, he knew. Killian wasn’t stupid. He was furious—and confused—and fuck, that was worse. I’d expected him to rage. I hadn’t expected the ache beneath it. “Do you need it now?”

I whimpered. I bit down hard on the sound, but it slipped out anyway—raw and desperate—before I could catch it. I had to have kept that inside, right? But his breathing hitched, and I knew he’d heard me.

He dragged a hand through his hair, breath sharp. “Talk to me, Pretty.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. He deserved the truth, but all I could offer was, “I need to hurt them for what they did to Robbie,” I blurted. “I need to hurt them, burn them to ashes.”

His jaw flexed.

And still… he didn’t press that damn button to take us up, or let me out. He placed a hand on my shoulder, exerted only the tiniest amount of pressure, and I fell to my knees and pressed my face to his groin, inhaling the fresh scent of his suit and the warmth of him. I nuzzled his hard cock, and then it was his turn to whimper.

His hand curled in my hair, unyielding. “Open,” he said, voice like smoke and steel, and I obeyed, my knees aching on the elevator floor as I looked up at him.

He unzipped slowly, deliberately, watching every twitch of my expression, every ragged breath I took. When I leaned forward and took him into my mouth, his grip tightened just enough to remind me who was in charge.

“That’s it,” he murmured, low and possessive. “Good boy.”

I moaned around him, the praise sparking something wild in me. I hollowed my cheeks, let him guide the pace, let him use me. All the noise in my head quieted, the fire simmered down to something sharp and focused.

He didn’t thrust hard—yet. This wasn’t fast and filthy, not yet. This was control. Dominance. A reminder. My throat burned, my eyes watered, but Ididn’t stop.

His free hand cradled my jaw as he rocked into my mouth, gaze locked to mine. “Look at me,” he growled. “I want to see those pretty eyes when you take it all.”

I did because I needed this. Needed him. Needed the weight of his cock, the power in his hands, the punishment and the promise wrapped up in every groan slipping from his lips.

He didn’t wait for my answer. His thrusts deepened to the limit of how much I could take. I gagged once, and he eased back, letting me breathe, his hand gentle for a moment—then he pushed forward again, steady and ruthless, and this time he didn’t let me breathe. He gripped the back of my neck, fingers digging in, holding me still as he fucked my mouth with unrelenting control. His rhythm was measured, precise—punishment and reward in each motion. Every time I flinched or gagged, he paused only long enough to make me feel the absence of him before pushing in again, deeper.

“Take it,” he growled. “You came to me like this—desperate, filthy. You want to be used? Then fucking earn it.”

I whimpered again, and this time it was all need. His voice coiled around me like barbed wire,dragging everything raw to the surface. The fire in me surrendered, and I pressed a hand to my cock, but he pulled out abruptly, and I gasped, drool on my chin, eyes wide.

“Hands behind your back,” he ordered. “You don’t touch unless I tell you to.”

I did what he asked, my shoulders trembling, and need was a vicious pulse. He didn’t just take control—he stripped everything else away until all that was left was me, aching and obedient at his feet. He made me wait, his cock heavy on my tongue, hips still, breath ragged above me. I could feel him tremble before the tension snapped.

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