Page 77 of Emperor of Corruption
I blink, stunned. The mighty Killian King took a day off work to look after the lowly Lyra Stewart? “Why?”
His jaw ticks. “Because I couldn’t leave you.” He looks enraged with both of us because of that. Abruptly, he stands. My legs drop carelessly from his lap, jarring me. “Now that you’re no longer half-dead, I’ll let you recover on your own. Don’t call me until you’re well enoughto resume our time together. You have the punishment of a lifetime coming your way for holding out on me.”
He strides out of the apartment leaving me alone, feeling empty, and more than a little fucking confused.
Killian King took time out of his life to care forme, the woman he constantly taunts, belittles, and berates.
The shields around my heart thaw when my gaze lands on the bottles of medication set up in a neat row on my coffee table, alongside a box of very expensive tea, cough drops, and everything a sick person could possibly need.
Killian wasn’t lying when he told me that he doesn’t hate me. That he, in fact,likesme.
What’s more dangerous is that I might be starting to like him back.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Killian has no mercy for me the next two times we see each other. On the following Wednesday after the night when I was mugged, he christens every surface in his apartment with me. I arrive at 5p.m., leaving work early—as requested—and by the time we make it to his bedroom, it’s 10p.m. I’m exhausted, eyes drooping, muscles burning, and pussy stinging. My ass hurts from the multiple spankings Killian’s doled out, and my clit aches with each beat of my heart.
Any traces of the cold have left me—it seemed to be a 48 hour bug stemming from pure exhaustion and stress so constant I’m afraid it’s becoming chronic. Even though I’m healed, my body is still lethargic. That doesn’t stop Killian, though; I receive absolutely no mercy from him.
Our time together is quickly rushing to an end, so I revel in every thrust, every spank, every bit of this depraved affair between us. It’ll be over soon, and I’ve endured the worst parts; now, I give myself the permission toenjoy. In no time, this fever dream will be in the rearview mirror. I’ll move on with my life, I’ll make it patently clear to Killian that should he come for me, I’ll ruin him, and that’ll be that.
He grips a fistful of my hair and pulls my body back, plastering my back to his front. One hand wraps around my throat while the otherslides south, pausing to painfully twist my nipple until I whine, then resuming its trek further down until it glides over my clit.
“Such a greedy girl,” Killian growls in my ear. “It’s been hours, and you’restillcoming for me like a needy little slut. I can feel your pussy sucking me in, urging me home. Do you want me to stay buried inside you forever?”
“Yes,” I gasp. In moments like these, when equal measures of pleasure and exhaustion make me delirious, I’m willing to sayanythingKillian wants me to say, even preposterous things.
We both know our affair is ending soon—verysoon. I might as well enjoy what’s left in it. Get my horrible fantasies out of my system, and then move on with my life.
“I’msofucking tempted to,” Killian mutters angrily. He pushes my body back down onto the bed and spanks me several times. I bury my fingernails in his soft, silky sheets and groan at the sensation.
“Fuck,” Killian barks. I feel his cock swelling inside of me, pulsing, the telltale sign that he’s about to come—again. His stamina is unbelievable, and his lasting time feelsendless.
“Come on, Lyra,” he says, curling a hand around my neck. “Come one more time for me like a good girl.”
I bury my face in the mattress, tears mixing with sweat as I obey, helpless to refuse his command. He only manages a few morefuriousthrusts before burying himself deep inside of me, gritting out words of praise and degradation as he comes.
He collapses on top of me, as if the activities of the evening were as hard on him as they were on me. I suppose five-hours-plus of fucking would feel like running a marathon to most people.
He rolls off of me, still breathing hard, and pulls me into his arms. I don’t fight him—I like the feeling of hismuscles encasing my body. It makes me feel safe, even if I know Killian is objectively the most dangerous person to me in the world.
I take a few minutes to catch my breath, to feel the tension slowly start to seep out of me, and to feel my trembling from multiple orgasms and strenuous positions recede, like a tide slipping back into the ocean. After a few minutes, I slowly start to sit up, shedding Killian’s weight, and scoot toward the edge of the bed.
“Where are you going?” Killian asks.
“Home,” I reply, wiping some of the sweat off my forehead. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”
It strikes me that we only have four interviews left together. We’ve missed a couple because of Killian’s hectic schedule and my illness, but he hasn’t given me any indication that he intends to make up for them. He’s as committed to our affair only lasting eight weeks as I am. Something about that washes my chest with a feeling I don’t want to explore. Disappointment? Resignation?
“Stay,” Killian says. “Just for a little while.”
I swallow, turning to glance at him over my shoulder. When he sees the indecision on my face, his features harden and his tone deepens. “That’s an order.”
“Yes, oh benevolent master.” I drop back down to the bed, slightly grateful that I don’t have to wobble my way home just yet.
“Tell me something else about yourself,” Killian requests.
My brows furrow, and the conversation we had about our childhood pets flits through my mind. “Like what?”
