Chapter 25
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Killian
I read the text from Xavier.
Xavier
Are you done? Trouble’s brewing from the ball. Guys I dealt with. Party’s still going, family still there, but they’ll look for her soon. Fuck.
Fuck the is the right word , I think as I close my phone, not texting him back. Trouble, also. I don’t need details to know that. But we’ll deal with it. Or he will.
He’s right, though. The ball will be winding down and we need to get pretty Cinderella back or it’s pumpkin fucking city and our plans back to the drawing board.
But the meeting’s done and Iris is chatting to Niall, one of the gay men.
And as I watch, I can’t help but think how well she fits in.
A glow of pink lights up her cheeks as her body vibrates with excitement, the kind I recognize from new recruits to the cause.
Normally, I’d let her soak it in more, really cement that excitement, but with the ball ending soon, it’s time to get my mark out of here.
Mark. I need to remember that. I chose her when she brought Emmie back. I know an asset when I see one and the young, beautiful upper-class Omega with a rebellious streak was always going to be perfection.
Easy to move to where I wanted her. And now…Icy’s going to do what I’d wanted—find a way in.
The manipulation of asking her to be quiet worked perfectly. Brat like that can’t ever help but go against the grain.
But I need to get her out, wait for Xav. He’s been seen with her; it’s not a good idea to add me to the mix. I don’t give a fuck about her brother, but it’s cleaner if he returns her. We’ll go to the bar and wait.
Fucking Freya can keep her company.
I cross to her, nodding a hello to Niall.
“We need to go,” I say against her ear.
She frowns. “But?—”
“Now.”
Barely letting her say more than a quick goodbye I lead her out the back.
The alley’s dark and no one’s around, but we’re surrounded by the real life of the city. I’ll take her along the alleys, and?—
“That,” she says as she leans back against the wall, “was amazing.”
“It was a meeting.”
“And I’m going to help change the world, help bring a voice to those who need one, who should have one.”
I put a hand against the wall as just a few feet from us, people laugh and talk as they walk past.
“Really?” I murmur, leaning in close to her. “And a sheltered girl like you is going to do all that?”
Her eyes flash and I hide my smile. “I said I would. I can go places you can’t.”
“Don’t be so sure about that, little girl.” I run a finger along the ruffle just below her lace and the muscles contract and flutter. “You’d be surprised at the places I can go.”
She smacks my hand away and this time the smile breaks free. It makes her bristle. “So you go meet the Monarch if you want.”
I love how she plays into my hands, how my dismissal fires those fueled engines of hers.
So I push her a little harder. “I’m from the Lower Side, it’ll take longer than you, but I can think of ways to do it.”
“You—”
“And I’ll tell you something for free…” I curl my hand on her hip, tugging her closer and she gasps. “A meeting doesn’t mean a fucking thing if you can’t carry it through to the end.”
This time, I lean in, blow against the skin that’s exposed on her chest. It’s not much. The dress is beyond modest, but it hides full breasts.
She lets out a soft little sound this time. But she grabs my hand to push me away, only I turn it to twine our fingers.
“And you think you could?”
“Icy,” I murmur, close to her lips, “I know it.”
“Then you go.”
“And spoil your fun?”
The flash in her eyes turns to something else, a call, a need, desire. “I just think you know you can’t do it.”
I remove my hand from the wall and take her chin, lifting her face, our lips now moments away.
“You might be able to with your connections.” Laughter flares from passersby but she doesn’t react, her attention caught on me and it strokes against my libido. “Don’t mistake that for skills.”
“You’re a rude, nasty guy, hiding under a layer of empty charm.”
Her words wrap around my cock. “And yet you’d give anything to have me ravish you wouldn’t you?”
“In your perverted dreams.”
“That can be arranged.”
I kiss her, a soft kiss, nothing more than lips on lips because I need to hold on to that fucking urge that drives through me like a drumbeat.
Soft. Hot in a way that has nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with her.
I step back. “We’ll take you back to the party.”
But it seems the brat can’t help herself. Because even the sheltered know a dismissal when they hear one and I see it on her face, the double take. But the brat takes control. Her eyes narrow and she grabs my shirt and pushes me against the wall.
“What, Icy? Don’t like being dismissed? I don’t kiss brats.”
I fuck them.
After punishing them.
I taunt them, toy with them, tie them up in knots until they’re drooling, begging, crawling to me.
A flash of Iris doing that, Xavier watching, bursts into my mind.
“I don’t like being toyed with.”
This time I spin her so she hits the wall. I run my thigh between her legs, jamming it up against her cunt, though I doubt she can feel it through those fucking layers.
“Really?” I ask her, “then don’t toy with me.”
She tries to kiss me but I capture her chin once again, stopping her and the excitement surges through me. “You don’t have it in you.”
I laugh and take the gauntlet, I lick her throat, sucking on her skin a moment, but the need to mark her rips through me like a vicious storm and I don’t. I’m never marking anyone again in my life.
This time, when I kiss her, I take her mouth hard. My tongue strokes and twirls with hers, the taste of her is sex, pure essence and sweet, so fucking sweet, tempered with whiskey and the rot gut she drank. A spicy kick that might not be from the booze, but her.
This close is like diving into her flower garden, a million irises against me, and want to rip them out to get to their truth. I bite and suck her lip, her groan music and I need more than just her mouth.
I kiss my way down, over her bare expanse of chest, that sliver of nothing and I grab the front of the dress, ripping it, her breast spilling from her push-up bra beneath, like she tried to bring something to the table of sexy when dressing, but the red that cups her tits is pure lace and it takes nothing to pop out her creamy tit and its rosy, hard nipple.
She moans, fingers digging into my skin as I suck that nub into my mouth, latching with my teeth as I bite.
Iris cries out and, shaking, presses hard to me, like she needs more.
I’m losing my mind. She tastes even better than she looks.
Her skin is spice and musk and I can’t even smell that void of her blocker. I can just smell her, like she’s fucking destroyed it.
Somewhere in the haze of my mind I realize she’s close to going into heat. But I don’t stop. I don’t take the warning. I ignore it as I turn to the next breast and I rip at her skirt, the way she rocks on my thigh sanity destroying.
I lower my leg as I push my hand up along her thigh, the panting keening sound from her spurring me on.
Her panties are wet and I don’t give a fuck as I lift my head and plunder her mouth again, kissing her the way I want to fuck her; within an inch of her life.
Wet and hot and pushing against me with that sweet cunt.
I pull the panties aside and thrust two fingers into her, fucking her with them, rubbing her clit.
She’s so fucking tight. Virginal and it’s both a gift and a damned shame. She’s untouched because she’s ours. And we’re going to have to teach her everything as Iris hasn’t had a head start.
With each thrust her cunt clenches at my fingers like it wants them deeper, like it yearns for my cock, like it has a life of its own.
And she rocks harder, little tremors building, building. And I break the kiss, holding her chin so I can thrust into her, keeping to the beat, and watch her.
Each expression is fucking pure gold. Lust and need and shock. The waves of pleasure she’s never felt.
She suddenly shudders, shattering, and I kiss her, swallowing her cries.
When she goes saggy, soft, her legs giving way, I drink her in, hair completely mussed, breasts reddened, wet, and my fingers are still moving in her, beneath her dress.
What we’re doing is obvious to anyone observing and I look over. Yeah, Xavier can definitely see.
I slow the thrusting down to ride those final trembling waves of her orgasm. “No one will ever fuck you, Iris, the way we’re going to fuck you.”
With that, I pull my hand free and lick and suck my fingers. Her slick is addicting. The most delectable thing I’ve ever had.
How does she taste?
I suck my fingers some more and feed one to her, the startled look in her eyes turn soft as I dip it in to that other wet orifice I’ve sampled, and my cock gets even harder.
“Fucking sweet as candy. You can try her yourself if you’re willing to get on your knees and ruin that suit.”
I’ll fucking destroy this suit for a taste of her, but now isn’t the time.
She stops sucking and clutches her top, holding it together as she cries, “Who?—”
Xavier puts his big hand on her shoulder and she visibly relaxes. Then she stiffens again, coming down to land back in reality as her hand crosses her exposed breasts and she flicks a wild glance from him to me and back again. “Oh my god. Who saw me?—”
“Just Xavier, he’s blocking the way. You’re lucky.” I lean in. “Because I don’t give a fuck who sees. And we’re having you. Sooner, not later.”
Then I step back.
He gives me a mild look. Really, Killian?
The big guy, ever the gentleman when it counts, drapes his jacket over her shoulders to cover the rips.
“What am I doing?” she whispers.
“Taking a taste of the Lower Side life, Icy,” I glance at Xavier. “He says they’re looking for you.”
Her mouth rounds as she fumbles and pulls out her phone. “Oh shit. What am I going to do?”