13. Killian #3
I shift the muzzle lower, the cold steel sliding through her slit as I push the barrel inside her.
Her breath stutters, her spine bowing off the stone as she takes the invasive length of the gun.
No more teasing. I return my mouth to her center, flicking my tongue, and sucking on her clit, pushing her right back to the edge she was already standing on.
Her fingers tangle into my hair in a plea I ignore, watching for the exact second her vision blurs.
"I can feel how close you are," I murmur against her, my voice thick with a feral, desperate awe I’ve never let another living soul hear.
"You brought all this beautiful, shining light into the ugliest, darkest part of my soul...
and I'm going to consume every goddamn drop of it. Come for me, Ellie."
She comes seconds later, a scream tearing out of her throat as the climax hits over her.
Her hips slam forward, impaling herself deeper on the freezing steel inside her while her thigh locks violently around my head.
I stay anchored between her legs, refusing to let up as she rides the waves of her orgasm in the dark.
Her nails carve half-moons straight through my shirt and into the meat of my shoulders.
I feel the rhythmic spasming of her walls around the barrel, and I drink down every single drop of it until her eyes roll back and she’s nothing but a shaking, incoherent wreck pinned against the concrete.
When the spasming finally slows, I pull the steel out of her heat.
Her leg slides weakly off my shoulder as I rise to my full height, and I have to lock my free hand around her waist to keep her from collapsing completely.
I press my forehead against hers, forcing her to look at me as reality starts to bleed back into the room.
I set the gun on the table and pull her into me before she can hit the floor. She’s dead weight in my arms, her body still vibrating from the aftershocks. This kind of dependency is a different high.
Fuck. Look at her. The woman who spent weeks trying to dissect me is gone, replaced by this unraveled thing I’ve made.
“I told you I’d consume every goddamn drop of you,” I murmur against her lips, my voice a rough promise she has no idea how to defend against. “I’m going to teach you how to survive every other monster they send for you, Ellie. But I’m never going to teach you how to defend yourself from me.”
I kiss her then, slow and thorough, letting her taste the pleasure I just lapped from her. I keep her pinned against the stone for one more minute, just watching her breathe. The woman who came here to analyze the monster, finally unmade by one.
She’s quiet for a long moment, straightening her clothing with hands that won't stop shaking. When she finally speaks, her voice is softer. “That was... I didn’t know I could feel like that.” A pause. “I didn’t know I’d want to.”
Her face is still burning, but the color in her cheeks is different now. It’s a deeper, heavier flush that drops her gaze straight to the concrete floor.
I reach out, catching her chin and forcing her head back until she has no choice but to meet my gaze. My thumb traces the curve of her bottom lip, still wet and plump.
“There’s no shame in it,” I murmur. “You’re mine, Ellie. This is exactly who you’re supposed to be.”
“Isn’t there?” Her voice is barely audible, the shame making her look fragile and small against the stone. Her hazel eyes searching for something she won't find in my expression. “To want the violence. To want you to...” She can’t even say the words out loud.
“To want me to strip the control right out of your hands?” I finish for her, letting my thumb press against her lip.
“To want me to be the one who decides exactly what you feel?” I force her to hold my gaze so she sees the absolute reverence underneath the possession.
“Never be ashamed of giving it to me, Ellie. You could never be anything but perfect in my eyes. I’m the one person in your life you never have to hide from. ”
She lifts a trembling hand, her fingers pressing flat against my chest before her thumb maps the tense line of my jaw and slides back into my hair.
She pulls herself up, bridging the final inch between us so slowly I can feel the heat of her breath against my mouth before her lips finally meet mine.
The kiss is agonizingly slow. Our tongues slide together in a languid, rolling rhythm that finally quiets the constant, violent noise in my head.
I've spent seven years calling this obsession.
A sickness. A territorial hunger I could manage and control and weaponize.
I called it anything that wasn't the truth, because the truth meant handing her the one thing no one on this earth has ever had. The power to completely destroy me.
I brought her down into this dark basement thinking I was breaking her. But as her mouth moves against mine, my own walls finally come down. Every calculation, every tactic, every lie I've told myself evaporates.
I love her. I love her with the kind of desperate, violent certainty that only a man who has never felt anything safe in his entire life could understand. And it terrifies me more than anything the Order ever put in my hands.