Chapter 17
LOGAN
Once Killian’s standing, he looms over me, laughing a powerful, maniacal laugh. The laugh of a psychopath.
My cock is harder than it’s ever been in my life, the precum forming a small spot along the inside of my thigh.
As Killian heads back to the bar, I pull my pants up, fastening them before pushing to my feet, mentally recovering from…whatever the hell that was. All I know is, I’m even angrier with this fucker than when we started our fight.
I retrieve my wallet and stuff it in my back pocket. “What the hell was that all about, huh?” As I charge him, he pours himself another whiskey, barely giving me a side-eye, still smirking like he has all the power.
“Relax, Logan. You attacked me, so I was giving you hell. That’ll teach you to never do that again.”
“That was all a game to you? The sick things you were threatening to do to me? That’s disgusting. You’re disgusting.” But I know my judgment isn’t at him, but toward myself, for wanting him to do them. And my greatest fear is that he knows this as he locks eyes with me, still smiling.
“Careful,” he warns.
I should take the warning and move on, but with how worked up he’s gotten me—and my cock—and how much rage there is in my chest, I apparently don’t mind playing games with the devil because I slap his drink right out of his hand, the power carrying the glass across the room, shattering it against the floor.
Killian’s eyes go dark, but his smile expands. “I guess Logan wants to play after all.”
He rushes me, and I should fight him, I should beat the hell out of him, but I’m curious to see what he has planned for me. He grabs me and drags me across the room, pulling my arm behind my back and shoving my chest against the desk, reminding me of his threat.
“Not even fighting, huh? Seems like you’re begging me to fuck you.”
I shoot a nasty look over my shoulder. “I don’t have a choice, do I? You’re gonna take what you want anyway.”
“Or is that what you want me to do? So that you don’t have to admit how badly you crave feeling the cock that was inside your mouth, but this time fucking your cunt.”
My face flushes with heat. I despise that he might be right, and I struggle, if only to be less obvious.
He snaps my arm back again, pushing against me as he whispers in my ear, “Make up your mind. Do you want to be fucked or not?”
“You know I don’t want it.”
“Then say the fucking words. Say you don’t want me inside you right now.”
Another opportunity to tell him to stop, and I open my mouth to tell him, but something in me fights against it.
“Fucking knew it,” he whispers before nibbling against my earlobe.
Fire surges through me, the burn so intense, I can only imagine what it’ll feel like to have him dominating me, really making me his.
He reaches into my pocket, retrieving the condom and lube packet, and slams them onto the desk beside me.
I continue fighting to get him off me because the only way he can have me is if he can maintain control over me—it’s the only way I want him, and how messed up does that make me?
With his free hand, he unfastens my pants, shoving them down, expertly using a foot to pull them to my ankles.
Now there’s real terror flaring up within me.
I don’t know anything about being fucked, or how much it might hurt, especially when he’s this worked up…
and knowing how big his cock is. I gulp as he takes the lube packet.
I glance over my shoulder to see him tearing it open with his teeth.
He drips some onto my lower back and lets it slide into my crack before massaging his fingers against my hole.
“There’s that wet pussy,” he breathes, as though he’s saying it for his own pleasure.
I’m radiating heat. “It doesn’t matter what you do to my ass, I’ll still fucking hate you,” I assure him.
“That’s fine. I’ve never given any fucks whether you like me.”
“You’re a psychopath.”
“And you’re mine.”
There’s that flare in my chest again, but as he slips a finger into my ass, I find it quickly shifts to something else.
“Can feel the tension here,” he says. “You need to loosen up, or my cock is gonna tear you up.”
He works his finger, and I close my eyes, enjoying the sensation while disconnecting that he’s the one offering it.
He’s a monster, but he knows what he’s doing in this department.
As he slips in farther, I feel his touch against what I assume is my prostate by the wave of eagerness that pulses through me, reaching out to my toes and fingertips.
“There it is,” he mutters, teasing that spot. “All that talk, yet I know all it takes to make you submit.”
“I think anyone could make me enjoy that,” I challenge, and he grunts.
“You’re a prickly thing, aren’t you?”
Despite the anger in his tone, he continues stimulating that spot tenderly.
I can barely concentrate with the way my head rushes with sensation, my thoughts fixated on the overexcited nerves throughout my body.
I don’t even try to stifle my moan as he presses on my prostate even more.
Fucking hell, it feels criminal that I’ve never known these sensations before.
He gives me a few more rubs before pulling back, and when I can think straight again, I’m livid for what he’s depriving me of.
“That all you got?” I ask, and he snickers, like he’s laughing at me for this power he has over me.
He presses two fingertips against me, and I tense as he works them inside.
“Trust me, I’m just getting started with this ass,” he warns as he pushes deeper, his fingers stretching me.
He still has my arm behind my back, but I’m not fighting anymore, so it doesn’t hurt.
And he’s clearly not trying to hurt me as he moves carefully, until he’s back against that spot, twisting his fingers to make space for what I hope will be his cock next.
Fuck me, I shouldn’t want this.
I should be resisting.
I should be screaming no at the top of my lungs, but I can’t deny that, for whatever reason, I knew I really wanted this, even before our date. It’s why I grabbed the condom and lube. And despite all my resistance, it feels like I’ve basically bullied him into doing this to me.
He settles on my prostate, granting me that pleasure I’m hoping to become more familiar with. Again, I can’t disguise how it feels as moans force past my lips.
“Thought it’d take longer to get this cunt ready, but I guess it needs it.”
I should hate the way he refers to my ass as a pussy and cunt, but something about it feels so naughty, and I crave it.
“And here I thought you’d be rougher.”
He growls, and between the sound and the way he’s touching me, it’s too stimulating, has me calling out.
“Oh, it will be rough, Logan. Once I’ve gotten you ready, I intend to beat the fuck out of this ass. And when I’m balls-deep in you, I will destroy you.”
Fear grips me. Maybe I’ve pushed too far. Maybe Killian is the wrong person to fuck around with this because he’s a wild animal. All that should make me stop, but at this point, I’m not sure if Killian would stop even if I asked.
He readies himself with the condom before I feel him against my ass.
I can’t tell if it’s lubed up or it’s just the lube he’s already put inside me, but it’s slick as he slips the head inside.
There’s a hunger within me, like now that he’s teased my prostate, my body knows exactly where it needs to go, what it needs to do to me.
“Come the fuck on,” I urge. My voice sounds different even to me, reminding me of the way I spoke to Sik Vik.
Like the beast inside me has come out to play.
Killian feeds me an inch…then another. I can tell he’s taking his time, carefully allowing me to open up for him, but that’s not what I want.
I want to be fucked. It’s a thought I can’t fathom, not something I ever considered before him, but now it’s like my mind won’t give me any peace until he’s balls-deep inside me.
He growls as he rushes his work, and there’s a sting to it, making me groan, but as soon as he slides against that sweet spot, a powerful sensation that rivals any of the discomfort overtakes me, making my eyes roll back. I gasp with relief that he’s ended my agony.
“Better?” he asks as he jams farther inside me, my body quivering. “I tried to be careful, but it seems you don’t like that.” He offers even more of his cock, until I feel his pelvis against my ass, knowing I have him filling me completely.
That shouldn’t feel as good as it does, even with the pressure that still swells within me because I made him go too fast for my body. But I bite my bottom lip to keep from telling him to pull out, challenging my body to adjust to him, like I have something to prove.
“Oh, you’re taking me even better than I expected.”
And now I know it’s worth the pain.
He grants me a few subtle movements, the sensation eliciting a prolonged moan as he stimulates me.
“Look at me,” he orders. “I want to see your fucking face while I fuck you.”
I don’t give him what he wants, which seems unnecessarily cruel now that he’s giving me exactly what I want, but I don’t care. I hate that he bosses me around, yet it’s also the very thing that excites me about him.
He keeps hold of my wrist, leaning down. He grabs my face with his free hand, and I can feel the lubrication coating his fingers as he jerks my head toward him, until we’re locking eyes.
I don’t want him to see me like this any more than I wanted him to see me when I was torturing Sik Vik, but despite how I resist his grip, he keeps my face in place, and with a sharper thrust, I surrender as my body is overtaken with another wave of that sensation.
Sparks surging in quick succession, pleasure unlike anything my body has ever experienced.
“Yes…” he breathes. “This is what I wanted to see.”
I try to jerk away, but he persists with a series of thrusts that send sensation pulsing through me, making me entirely forget any of my objections…only wanting more.
“Harder,” I beg him, and he obeys, and I forgive him all the control and sadism as he gives me what feels as essential as breathing.
“I need a better view than this,” he says.
I can feel he’s about to pull out, and I shout, “No!” reaching back with my free hand and gripping his ass, clinging to it, desperate for him to stay inside me. Oh, how did I go from being a perfectly sane man who wanted nothing to do with this bastard to needing him jammed up in me?
He laughs. “Relax. I can stay in you if you obey my instructions. Can you do that?”
I grit my teeth, this part of me—the Wilde in me—resisting. I’m supposed to be in charge. I’m supposed to be the leader, yet I can’t deny how good it feels, how freeing, to let Killian take charge.
“Come on,” he says. “Let go of my ass, and I’ll make sure to keep your pussy satisfied.”
“I hate when you call it that.”
“Liar.”
How does he know?
There are too many questions to answer, though, so I release his ass, and he releases my arm. He steps on my pants and boxers, between my ankles. “Kick out of these.”
It’s a struggle, but I manage to kick my shoes off and follow his instruction.
He hooks his arm around a thigh, then lifts. “Now roll to your right.”
Again, I obey, and he rotates my leg in a clockwise motion, keeping his cock within me as I roll over the desk.
My shoulder blade hits the side of his letter box, sending it flying to the floor, something he doesn’t even seem to notice as he takes my other thigh, hoisting it up so he has my legs in the crooks of his arms as he pushes deep once again.
“Fuck,” I drag out, reveling in the sensation, which feels even better from this angle. When I reopen my eyes, he’s smirking, obviously enjoying how he’s affecting me.
He slides his hand under the hem of my shirt, resting a hand on my abs, caressing as he fucks me harder, clearly trying to ensure that with each stroke, he gets as far in as he can manage.
I want to keep my wits about me, but it’s too much for me, and my head rolls back as I lose track of my obligations, my stresses, even a sense of myself. I’m Killian’s to do with as he pleases, despite knowing what a shitty idea that is.