Chapter 6
The Desire
Jenna
Playing with Killian nearly steals my breath.
It reminds me of that first day of school, being carried through the ups and downs by him.
When the music runs out, I don’t want to open my eyes and face the world and the version of Killian that broke my heart.
I want to stay with that sense of stability he gave me back then and again now while we played.
Keeping my eyes closed for a moment, I breathe through parted lips as the intensity of it all washes over me. When I open my eyes, Killian is staring at my mouth. I draw back, unnerved by his burning attention.
He lifts his eyes to mine. “Your technique is shit, but your dynamics were very pretty.” He grabs my chin and places a swift kiss on my lips. Then he gets up and leaves the room.
I’m left reeling, just staring into thin air.
As the trance breaks, I become aware of Ian.
He’s only a vague silhouette in my peripheral vision, but the weight of his gaze is oppressive.
I want to shrink on the bench, and it takes everything I have to remain upright.
I don’t dare to turn and look at him, not even when he steps right up behind me.
My breath comes in ragged drags as he reaches for my hair and sweeps it behind my shoulders, just like his son did all those years ago. And despite everything I’ve learned, my reaction is the exact same. My skin hums beneath his touch, and I have to stop myself from leaning closer.
“How much are you willing to give to play again?” he asks in a strangely intimate tone.
“Everything,” I say with a breath of purpose I haven’t felt in years.
“Everything?”
“Yes.”
“Even your dignity?”
Shocked, I turn around. His expression gives no signs of mockery. The question is serious.
I part my lips to say something but close them again when I can’t find the words.
I’m about to finally ask what he means when he steps back. “Tomorrow. Straight after work. Lessons with me, and all your practice happens here.”
***
When I get home, the weight of the day crashes down on me.
Fully clothed, I collapse onto my bed and pull the comforter tight, but it offers little relief.
My mind flashes with memories—five years ago and today.
For a very long time, I’ve only remembered the trauma of that night when Killian invited me home, but suddenly, I remember that aching, painful desire as well.
And not just the one between my legs, but also that instinctive, visceral need to please Killian.
I remember that sweet loss of control when he pushed the gag past my teeth. The desperate desire as he toyed with me. And the humiliation that somehow mixed perfectly with the pleasure when he pushed the butt plug inside me.
Closing my eyes, I slip my hands under the comforter and into my pants.
I gasp when I find my panties soaked. Shame rolls over me, but I can’t stop myself.
I rub my clit while I let the memory of Killian’s hands on my neck fill my mind.
The collar he put there. The wrong but so intoxicating feeling of belonging to him.
Suppressing a moan, I turn my head and bare my neck to his phantom touch. But suddenly, it’s not Killian’s hand I feel there. It’s Ian’s. His deep voice resonates in my inner ear, asking me in all seriousness if I want to give up my dignity.
Heat coalesces at my core, throbbing, twisting, and twirling.
A moan slips from my lips. I apply more pressure, rubbing my fingers through my wetness.
Lifting a hand from under the covers, I wrap it around my throat, pressing against my windpipe.
The sensation shoots straight to my core, and my moans get louder and more out of control as I crash straight for the edge.
Such a little ass slut. You actually want this.
The words spear into my brain, sudden and unbidden. But instead of snuffing out the orgasm, it sets fire to it.
I scream as pleasure rips through my body, making me buck off the mattress and curl my toes until my legs cramp. The pleasure keeps rolling for an agonizing minute, and then I collapse, kicking the comforter aside as the heat becomes unbearable.
Then comes the shame. Hot and suffocating.
I don’t sleep that night. All I can do is try to breathe through the anxious fear that keeps me in a chokehold. But it’s not just the fear of the two men awaiting me. It’s also fear of myself and the desire that keeps humming at my core, making me come three more times before dawn breaks.