Page 146 of Beneath the Mountain Sky
It should be a relatively simple request.
One Killian has made of me hundreds of times over the years.
He loves to come with me, to feel me clenching around him as he empties himself deep inside me. As he completes both of us in an earth-shattering explosion of pleasure.
But I don’t know if I can tonight.
I don’t know if I can give him what he needs, even though he’s giving me what I do. Because I’m so close, right there.
My orgasm hovers on the periphery of my vision. A glowy flame encroaching on the edges. Promising something only he has ever been able to give me.
Release from pain. Release from worry. Release from all the wrongs of this world. Release from anything that holds me captive in my head. Release of those dark shadows that the blinding light of ecstasy will blast away.
He’s about to give it to me.
Exactly what I need.
The way he took control, brought me into that river, and shocked my system into forgetting the reason I was out there in the first place. The way he dragged me up here without hesitation. The way he told me what was going to happen.
All of it took the pressure off me, off my mind, off the necessity of thinking when it was sending me down very bad roads.
I always felt like my life was so out of control until he and I finally got together, until he helped take it and put it back in my hands. Until he showed me how to let go by letting him show me this.
The past year, someone else took control of my life from me, but Killian is giving it back to me right now by allowing me to hand it to him. And there’s something heady about knowing that I can trust him with my heart and my body and everything else. That he will never let me down. That he will always finish what he starts and do it beautifully.
Whether that be work, one of his carvings, or the way he makes love to me.
Killian McBride doesn’t half-ass anything.
His entire focus is on this moment. Our connection. The movement of our bodies so perfectly in tune and sync.
And that’s what he’s asking for.
What he’s demanding.
That we come in perfect unison.
He buries himself deep inside me, stilling his hips as he waits for my answer. For my confirmation that I will wait for him the same way he waited over the last year for me.
I whimper at the painful request.
Needing him to keep moving.
Needing the friction.
And I attempt to grind against him, squeezing around his hard length, trying to urge him to get moving again, but he holds absolutely still, controlling every tiny movement I make, ensuring I can’t squirm away.
“I need you to answer me, Honeybee.” His strong hand at my throat tightens briefly, his thumb brushing over my thudding pulse, making my cunt contract around him again. “Can you do that for me? Can you wait?”
The base of his cock hits my clit as I try to move, but he presses into me harder, preventing it, keeping me absolutely trapped between him and the tree and at his mercy.
Rough, cold bark abrades my bare back and shoulders, a sharp juxtaposition against the smooth, warm body pinned to my chest.
I can’t move.
His fingers squeeze my ass, reaffirming his control. He dips his head and trails his lips across my collarbone to my neck, then nips playfully at the spot his thumb just caressed. “I’m not going to move until you answer me.”
This man knows exactly what he is doing.
