Page 11 of Only for You
Darkness crept in, blurring the edges of her vision like flames licking and slowly eating away at paper. Electrical currents sizzled down her spine, gathering at the small of her back, tingling in the soles of her feet. Almost there. Oh God, almost there.
One more stroke of his tongue. One more thrust of his fingers, and she would finally…
His mouth and hands disappeared from her body.
Shock pummeled her, and she remained crouched over the couch’s arm, certain he would return to her. Finish her. But seconds passed, and though she could still sense his presence behind her, only the cool air over her hot, throbbing flesh caressed her. Confusion careened through her, and underneath, pain from her overly sensitive sex pounded. She still teetered on that slender ledge of orgasm, but she didn’t fall—couldn’t fall, when only moments ago she’d been set to tumble headfirst over it.
Understanding was slow to come, but it eventually did.
Punishment.
This was her punishment for goading Killian, for trying to wrestle the upper hand away from him.
Straightening, she turned, tugging the hem of her shirt down so it covered her aching flesh and the very tops of her thighs.
“Bastard,” she whispered, the unfulfilled pleasure serrating her voice.
He arched an eyebrow and casually wiped his hand over his chin glistening with the evidence of her lust. Never breaking eye contact with her, he slowly licked his fingers clean. And God, if she didn’t feel every stroke over her sex, her quivering inner thighs that still bore the phantom imprints of his possessive grip.
“Did you think it would be that quick? That easy?” he asked, the newly roughened tone lending an ominous quality to the question, instead of the gloating she’d expected. He cupped her chin, and swept his thumb over her lower lip, pressing until the tender flesh inside grazed her teeth. “Last chance, Gabriella.”
If she told him right now that she intended to leave this room, that she refused to let him touch her, he would let her go. She knew that with every cell of her being. But she didn’t head toward the door. She didn’t leave. She wanted this—wanted him—too badly.
“I said, do your worst,” she whispered.
Heat flared in his eyes, and he dropped his hand away from her face. “Then let’s go,” he said.
“What about my cousin and sister-in-law?” Turning, she knelt to pick up her pants and boots. “I came here with them. I can’t just abandon them or have them wondering what happened to me.”
“They’ve already been taken care of. Leave those.”
She whipped around, gaping at him, a boot in one hand and pants in the other. “Excuse me?”
“Leave the clothes,” he reiterated.
She shook her head, her grasp on her jeans tightening. “Humiliation wasn’t part of this bargain. I’m not walking out of here without any pants on.”
A shadow crossed his face even as his lips firmed into a straight line. “Humiliate you? You think I want to give every motherfucker out there material to go home and fuck their fist to? Let them look at those thighs and imagine them wrapped around their waist? Their head? No, Gabriella, my intention isn’t to humiliate you,” he murmured, the silken tone all the more dangerous. “My sole focus is hustling your pretty little ass next door and upstairs as fast as possible. Whatever you think about me, I’d never place you in harm’s way, and that includes exposing you. Now,” he lowered his face until she could easily detect the green flecks in his golden eyes. Something flickered in those eyes. The same thing that, for just a moment, softened his mouth so he appeared almost…vulnerable. Hungry. No, no. Need. Like he needed her to walk out of this room with him. But in the next instant, the emotion disappeared behind a shuttered mask. “Are you in…or out?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she dropped the clothes and walked to the door, that brief flash of…whatever accomplishing what the “pretty little ass” and the possessive tone he’d uttered it in couldn’t.
The question sent heat spiraling through her, ratcheting the desire that still hummed in her veins. As did his term “upstairs.” What the hell did that mean? More specifically, what waited for her upstairs? Anxiety and anticipation knotted her belly, sharpening the razor’s edge of the hunger that still had her pussy clenching and releasing, begging for the release that Killian had withheld.
They exited the room, Killian first, his huge, muscled body a barrier between her and the crowd beyond. Not that she’d had to worry. An L-shaped wall blocked them from the interior of the club, granting privacy. In four short steps, Killian paused in front of a section of wall and pressed a button on a panel. Almost immediately, the wall slid open. She blinked. An elevator. The doors had blended so seamlessly into the wall, she hadn’t noticed until they parted, the soft light inside casting a short glow.
With a tip of his head, Killian gestured for her to precede him. Her bare feet slid over the carpeted floor of the elevator, and she curled her toes into the surprisingly lush nap. Apparently, Killian, Rion, and Sasha had spared no expense. Or maybe a half-clothed woman in bare feet wasn’t an anomaly for this opulent elevator.
The doors closed with barely a hiss, and she surveyed the showpiece. The box was small, but boasted mirrored walls, warm, wood panels, and even a small crystal chandelier. It was elegant, lovely, and almost unexpected in this place that reeked of sin, excess, and indulgence.
“This is beauti—” She broke off, Killian’s stiff figure distracting her, cutting off the rest of her compliment.What the hell?
Tension fairly vibrated from him, and his big hands curled and straightened, curled and straightened. His broad chest rose and fell on deep, but labored, breaths. Sweat dotted his forehead, and one lone bead tracked a path down his temple to his rock-hard, tensely clenched jaw. Unease flitted through her, and she reached for him, but at the last second, lowered her arm, remembering they weren’t about comfort.
“Killian.”
He didn’t move, his narrowed stare stuck on the wall in front of him as if the map to the Holy Grail was engraved in its glossy surface.
“Killian,” she said, raising her voice and inserting a note of steel in it. “Look at me.”
