Chapter 29 #2
Banding his arm around her waist, he pulls her to him so hard a gust of wind escapes her.
“Not right now, no. But soon. Very soon, Dad will send you upstairs, and you’ll be all mine to do with whatever I please.
There’s no avoiding it.” A cruel edge creeps into his voice.
“Unless you want to go back to that shitty existence you used to call a life, cleaning other people’s dirt, being all alone. ”
“Stop it, Killian, just stop.” Her voice rises as she pushes at his arm, but he doesn’t budge, and I notice how her breathing gets more labored.
But it’s not because of her fighting. It’s desire.
Being trapped turns her on—I have experienced it firsthand many times.
But I didn’t expect it to be the same with Killian.
“I bet you’re already fantasizing about how I’ll shove my cock deep inside your ass, stretching you to take my full size. How much it will hurt, but also how good it will feel.”
“I’m not,” she denies, and I’m tempted to make a mental note and call her out on lying later, but I think I’ll let this one pass.
She seems to be in genuine distress as she keeps fighting, now whimpering with the effort.
I’m once again about to intervene when Killian grabs her by the back of the neck and shoves her down over the counter.
But when he gathers her flailing arms on her back, I pause.
Because once again, Jenna surprises me. Instead of succumbing to the panic that’s about to get her, she capitulates.
It’s like a flick of a switch. Her entire body softens, her struggles weakening into a few last jerks before she goes slack over the counter, her chest the only part moving as desire deepens her breaths.
Killian doesn’t say anything as he releases her neck, lifts her skirt, and trails a finger over her white panties, up the valley of her crack.
He switches direction, moving back down, finding her tight hole and rubbing it slowly through the fabric.
Jenna twitches a few times—a quiet protest—but it’s half-hearted.
Her brain might not want it, but her body wants a taste of that pleasure he made her feel five years ago. And again a week ago.
A twinge of jealousy stirs inside me. Because he has already set his mark on her—a mark that has been cemented by the trauma he caused her.
I thought that night broke her, but now I realize it just put her life on pause.
Being here, confronting it in a safe environment, knowing that I’ll protect her, has made her wake up and come alive again.
She might hate that she wants him, but there’s no doubt that she does as she gives in to his touch, pleasure revealing itself in the small movements of her hips.
He keeps going for a while, just rubbing slowly, pushing his finger against her covered opening to give her the slight sensation of something going inside her.
I feel like I’m intruding on something private as I keep watching from a distance. They both seem stuck in a trance—caught in the intense energy between them. But I am mesmerized as well and can’t seem to move.
Killian trails his hand lower, and Jenna parts her legs slightly to let him access her pussy. I can’t see what he’s doing, but I think he’s slipping a finger into her panties and touching her judging from his response.
“You’re so fucking wet, Jenna. It’s disgusting.”
She lets out a broken whimper, but the humiliation only feeds her lust, her sharp breaths of pleasure deepening.
My cock grows achingly hard as I think about all the ways I want to humiliate her.
As if thinking the exact same things, Killian does one of them: he moves his hand from between her legs and lifts it to her mouth. “Taste,” he says, holding his finger right before her lips.
Jenna doesn’t even protest. She only hesitates, then opens just enough for Killian to push his finger inside and let her taste her own desire.
She whimpers repeatedly, but her hips keep moving, wanting.
“Ass slut,” Killian scoffs, then pulls back, releasing her.
I quickly slip into the entryway before he sees me.
I’m not sure why, but I don’t want them to know that I’ve been watching.
I walk halfway down the hall, then turn, making it look like I’m coming from my office as Killian steps into the entryway.
He doesn’t even cast a glance my way, just rushes up the stairs.
When I return to the living room, I find Jenna standing in the kitchen, looking toward the door Killian just left through, a forlorn expression heavy on her face.
She turns away the moment she sees me, and the fear that she won’t need me in the end tightens.
I hurry to her and take her in my arms. She’s hesitant at first, but when I don’t say anything and just hold her, she sinks into me, grabbing onto my shirt as if she badly needs me.
It takes the edge off my concern, and I simply enjoy holding her and letting her find comfort with me as I lift her to sit on the counter, nestled into me.
Jenna is tense, her shoulders stiff and her breath short.
After a while, a slow trembling sets in.
I think she’s a little shell-shocked from the abrupt way Killian left, and it makes me wonder if this thing we have planned—him toying with her and me providing aftercare—will break her down.
But then she calms, her breathing deepening, her equilibrium seeming to return.
When I sit her down at the table and serve her the breakfast she was preparing, she is calm and even smiles shyly at me a few times.
Maybe this will work, after all.