Chapter 3
Killian
My head is heavy as though it’s made out of cast iron, my eyelids two curtains I can’t seem to open. It takes me minutes to go from making my fingers twitch to slowly opening my eyes, but my mind isn’t connecting what I see with reality.
I was at the club… Then I saw Happy …
Then…
Damen.
My gaze lands on the handsome monster who couldn’t look more put-together if he tried.
He sits opposite me in a leather seat, book in one hand, a dainty tea cup in the other, dressed in an elegant brown turtleneck sweater and dark green pants made of tweed.
Could this perfect gentleman really be a killer, or was I drunk and hallucinated it all?
I glance to the window next to me and I finally understand where I am when I’m treated to a view of serene clouds on the background of a blue sky.
“Hey, sleepyhead. I’m happy you’re awake,” Damen says and puts the book he’s been reading on the empty seat next to him.
In Cold Blood by Truman Capote. How appropriate.
The cup goes on a side table attached to the wall, and as I rise, taking in the white-and-gray space we’re in, it becomes clear this is no ordinary plane.
Not just because of its size and the fact that we’re on our own, but because everything looks clean and polished.
“Is this a private jet?” I mumble, surprised when a plush blanket falls off my shoulders and pools in my lap.
I half expect to be cuffed to the seat, but I’m not.
I guess I can’t run away mid-flight, but it does tell me he’s not afraid I’ll attack him with a plastic knife.
Going by how proficient he was with Happy, I’d rather not try.
Damen smiles. “Yes. The chef will prepare your breakfast whenever you’re ready.”
“I’m guessing I don’t have a choice about where I’m going?” I swallow, pretty sure alerting any of the staff on board is pointless.
Damen sighs and picks up a frosted bottle of water, then pours some into a glass, which he then nudges my way. “We’re going to spend Christmas with my family, just as we agreed. Here, you must be thirsty.”
“And if I say I changed my mind?” I ask but greedily drink the contents of the glass, because I’m parched. I don’t know how long I was out, but it must be the next day, since that’s when we were arranging to leave.
“Why would you do that?” Damen asks, as if he hadn’t murdered someone right in front of me, then put me to sleep.
His eyes look so nice in daylight. Fuck.
He was a fallen angel at night, but now he could play the role of God’s own herald.
Even the way an unruly strand of wavy hair falls on his forehead is stuff straight from a romance novel.
“B-because maybe I’m a little scared?” Understatement of the fucking century.
Damen leans forward until both his elbows rest on his thighs, and he meets my gaze. “There is no reason for you to be scared, I promise. After all, you’re my husband.”
Did he just wink?
I can’t believe I agreed to this arrangement so easily. I’m a lamb lured into the slaughterhouse with promises of fresh grass. And in an attempt to escape Happy, I’ve ended up with a man who’s even more dangerous than him.
“I just… don’t know if I can do this after last night.”
He stares at me, not blinking for an uncanny length of time.
“I think we will need to establish a set of rules to apply throughout this holiday. That is, unless you are truly convinced that you can’t imagine spending two weeks with my family and myself.
Although it would be quite unfortunate if the police found your fingerprints on Happy’s baseball bat. ”
My heart sinks. So this is it. I might have spent a night or two in jail over petty theft, but I’m not built for prison. I spend a while processing Damen’s threat while toying with my empty glass.
I look up at his handsome face again. What’s the worst that can happen? He could kill you, my inner voice suggests. But then again, he did protect me from Happy. My side still hurts from the baseball bat strike. I absentmindedly touch my ribs and realize I’m bandaged under my T-shirt.
“Okay. What would those rules be?”
The hazel eyes glint, and Damen reaches out, cupping my face with warm hands that smell expensive. “I knew you’re as smart as you’re cute. In that case, rule number one is, you need to enjoy yourself.”
I snort. “That’s rule number one?” I shouldn’t be relaxing thanks to his touch. He is the threat. And yet here I am, settling in despite how unreasonable it is. But it’s not like he killed a puppy, he got rid of human trash.
Damen nods. “Precisely. Rule number two, you will play the role of my husband and never break character. Rule number three, you tell no one about anything you’ve seen or will see. Including your ex’s unfortunate accident. Do I have your word?”
I just hope I don’t see things that end up haunting me for the rest of my life. “Yes. I can do that. I just don’t understand why a man like you needs a fake husband.”
A soft exhale leaves those tempting lips as Damen leans back in his armchair and sips from the cup.
“As I’ve already told you, they expect me to some day bring a wife, which I won’t.
I’m a gay man, and I will not be playing a game of pretend to appease my family.
This is where you come in. Your presence will give them a bit of a shock, but at least now they will know.
And I will be able to finally participate in the annual Christmas hunt. ”
I glance around the immaculate space, the leather armchairs, then at Damen’s polished shoes. “But why me? I don’t fit in here. Would you not be better off with some classy escort?”
“You fit in where I say you fit in,” Damen says without a moment of hesitation. “I could have anyone, but I picked you. Maybe you shouldn’t question that and instead enjoy the benefits?” he asks, sliding his hips forward until the fabric of his pants clings to his cock.
A shiver goes down my spine, and I can’t pretend to myself that he doesn’t excite me.
And maybe that’s the key? He wants someone he actually had chemistry with instead of a pay-for-play situation.
My mind is a mess every time I think of Happy’s head cracking against the steps, so I try to focus on Damen’s pretty eyes and long lashes. Yes. That calms me down.
“So… you don’t want me to pretend I’m someone else, other than our cover story obviously?”
Damen’s thighs spread farther, creating an empty space at his feet. He’s daring me to do what’s already on my mind. “I like you the way you are. And my family will hate you. Win-win.”
I smile and shift to the edge of my seat. “And… that offer of dick still stands? I need to do my husbandly duties.” I’m known to lose my mind over a guy I’m hot for so what’s another one?
If I make him feel good, maybe he will be less inclined to arrange an accident for me? Won’t be a chore if his dick is as impressive as his confidence.
“You should always sample before you buy. Though it’s a bit late for that now,” my new mistake says and casually pops open the button at the front of his pants.
My cheeks heat up and I slide to my knees without thinking.
Yeah, I most definitely want to sample. “Better late than never,” I say, licking my lips with my eyes trained on his zipper.
I’m so excited to see what I’m working with that my mind is pleasantly empty, leaving room only for arousal.
If I can just forget the efficiency with which he snapped Happy’s neck, I can settle into two weeks of luxury and making Damen’s parents mad.
I’m good at that last part, considering my own threw me out of their home. I suppose it’s time to demonstrate that I also have other skills Damen might appreciate.
“Good boy,” he says in a breathy voice and lowers his zipper in a slow, teasing manner that has me rocking back and forth as anticipation takes over. I want to know how his dick tastes like. How it smells. Whether he shaves his pubes, and how big his loads are.
My own cock stiffens faster at the praise, which would be more embarrassing if he knew. But my daddy issues can stay between me and Santa when he decides whether I was good.
I slide my hands over his thighs, and I don’t know shit about quality clothes, but his pants feel luxurious to the touch. I wouldn’t mind a pair like that in a style that didn’t say classy grandpa.
When Damen slides his hand to my nape, my mind is no longer scattered and I press my face to his cock through his underwear. I can already feel its heat, and shape, and it’s like opening a present when I pull his briefs down just enough to reveal my prize.
“Tell me if there’s something you don’t like,” I whisper, already caressing his cock with my lips.
It juts from neatly trimmed hair, and while it’s not yet fully erect, I can recognize a masterpiece when I see it. His cock is already long, thick, and when I touch my lips to the exposed cockhead, my new man rewards me with a bead of salty pre-cum.
“Keep your teeth to yourself. What do you not like, husband?” he asks.
It’s hard to process the question when everything I like is right in front of me. “D-don’t make me vomit?” I say quietly, kinda embarrassed, because I don’t want the idea turning him off, but I’ve had a few guys fuck my throat too hard, even when I tried to tap out, and it sucked. Pun unintended.
I suckle the cockhead with a happy groan, all the horny sparks bouncing under my skin. I salivate already, because he’s delicious, and while I can taste a faint hint of soap from a recent shower, his own flavor soon overcomes my taste buds.
“Should I let you set the pace then?” Damen asks as he combs his hand through my hair.