29. Mila
29
MILA
I woke up in an unfamiliar bedroom by myself.
Pushing myself up to a sitting position, I winced when a small sting blossomed somewhere in the middle of my back. Getting out of bed, I moved to the bathroom, glancing around the room on my way.
I wasn’t in Silas’ room.
This wasn’t Maverick’s room either, which meant I was probably in Killian’s. Since I had fallen asleep in his arms last night, I felt it was a safe assumption.
It was everything I would have expected from him.
Clean, neat, and nearly barren.
The bathroom wasn’t much better.
I pulled my shirt up and turned around, looking at my back in the mirror. I grimaced. White gauze covered my back, but knowing what was hidden underneath made the sting much more prominent.
I struggled a bit to peel it off, only because my back was still sore, but once I did, I wished I hadn’t, because the sight of it wasn’t any better.
A small vertical line from the wound where he had stitched me took residence in the middle, near my spine.
It would be impossible for me to reach back there to try to pry the tracker out. And I knew that was deliberate.
I still couldn’t fucking believe they —because Killian hadn’t acted on his own—had inserted a tracker in me like a fucking dog.
I was careless in my desperate plan to escape, and they’d somehow caught on. So now they were doing everything to ensure I couldn’t leave.
What a fucking farce my freedom had been.
I was never escaping the brothers.
Tears of frustration burned my eyes, and I faced forward, bracing my weight on the bathroom sink. I looked down at my hands, unable to meet my own eyes in the mirror.
I wasn’t sure how long I stayed like that, but it was how Killian found me.
I didn’t bother turning to look at him. I didn’t think I had ever felt so defeated.
After a moment, he finally spoke, his voice gruff. “Look at me.”
I shook my head. I heard his footsteps as he walked further into the room and closer to me. I tensed, bracing myself for his touch, craving it and hating it in equal measure.
“Mila.”
“What do you want?” My voice was soft and meek. I fucking hated it.
“For you to look at me. Show me the sea in your eyes.”
I let out a shuddering breath. The sea in my eyes?
What a load of bullshit.
“No, I meant, what do you want with me ?”
I opened my eyes. And though I had mentally prepared myself, his face still knocked the breath out of me. His devastatingly handsome features were twisted into a severe expression, making him look more animal than man.
His frown deepened as he took in my question.
“I don’t know,” he answered.
Pulling me away from the sink, he began to undress me.
I was too drained to fight him.
He turned me around, his fingers making light touches over my skin as he assessed the wound on my back. His fingers whispered across my skin near it, making me shudder.
I focused my eyes on his face, as if by doing so, I might be rewarded with a glimpse of his thoughts.
What a silly thing to think.
As if I could ever figure the man out.
His hand paused for a millimeter of a second when they got to the waistband of the pants I was wearing, sans panties. Then he pulled them all the way down. I automatically kicked them away from my feet without thinking as Killian stood up to his full height.
His eyes took me in, the vicious desire clear in the depth of his gaze.
His eyes lingered on my breasts, making my nipples harden before he moved them down to my pussy.
I rubbed my legs together, hoping to relieve the ache. It didn’t help.
He reached for the cabinet drawer behind me and pulled out a small package. I didn’t know what it was until he ripped it open and revealed a clear adhesive bandage before sticking it over my wound.
He leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on my shoulder. I sucked in a sharp breath as our eyes met, and he slowly pulled away from me. I suddenly felt cold and bereft. I crossed my arms over my chest, hating the feeling.
I silently watched as he walked to the shower and turned it on. Then he turned back to me and began to undress.
I wanted to look away but didn’t.
He slowly stripped, revealing an impressive, muscular chest. His biceps strained with every move, and despite my mood, I could feel the familiar ache pounding between my legs at the sight.
He had the least amount of ink compared to his brothers.
On his right rib, there seemed to be a kneeling angel, her face nearly hidden, but even I could tell it was sorrowful. I frowned, marveling at the meaning behind the tattoo. My eyes moved to his other side, to the Celtic cross on his left rib, then up to the black and white floral design on his biceps. The piece was just as complicated and beautiful as the man who wore it. My gaze went down to his left wrist. Roman numerals. I didn’t know what the numbers were or their significance, and I didn’t want to ask him. The last thing I needed was to peel back any more layers to reveal the man he was.
But all my marveling came to an end when he hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his joggers, along with his boxer briefs, freeing his impressively huge cock from its confinement.
My mouth went dry.
I shouldn’t feel like this, especially since he tracked me just last night. Especially when I’d vowed I would never forgive him.
I bit my lips, hating the turmoil I was in.
I shouldn’t be feeling this way about him. For his brothers. He was one of my three captors. That should have meant something.
But the words held no weight in my head, bouncing from one corner to the next like a dejected balloon just before losing air completely.
Killian walked over to me and held out his hand.
Only a moment of hesitation lasted before I placed mine in his, wondering if it was wrong for me to love the size difference between us.
I shouldn’t.
Our size difference meant he had power, and I was powerless… helpless.
I let him lead me into the shower, the warm water hitting my skin and eliciting a small sigh from me.
Killian watched me for a beat before he grabbed my shoulders and hauled me closer to him. I went willingly, only this time, I wasn’t sure if it was because I was too exhausted to fight, or too… weak.
My lips trembled in defeat, and he stared down at me, a frown overtaking his beautiful face, twisting him into someone I didn’t recognize. He almost appeared guilty.
He bent down and kissed the space where my shoulder met my neck, gliding his lips slowly over the skin before pulling the sensitive flesh in between his lips and sucking on it.
I gasped as he kept up the torture, marking me and making my body physically respond to him. Heat and wetness pooled between my legs, and I needed him to do something about it so badly that I nearly begged.
He pulled away before I could, and I let out an internal sigh of relief. I watched as he reached above me for the shampoo bottle, and I was surprised when he squirted a generous amount into his palm before rubbing it into my hair.
A groan escaped my lips as he massaged the shampoo into my hair.
I didn’t think a man like Killian could be gentle, but he was with me.
He continued to clean me at a relaxed pace, leaving no part of me untouched. But for the first time, he didn’t touch me in a way that signaled sexual attraction. It was with something much more dangerous.
Affection.
Even when he cleaned between my legs, he didn’t linger longer than necessary. His touch seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once. Intimate, but not sexual. Yielding but not soft.
Just somewhere in the blissful in-between.
Impactful.
I was still feeling the effects of it even after he finished. I leaned against the shower wall and watched him clean himself up quickly and with less care.
The water turned off, and the cool air from the room blew in, caressing my skin when he opened the door.
He wrapped me in a large, fluffy white towel before I could utter a word or help him. As if I was incapable of doing so myself, or perhaps he just needed this. He didn’t grab a towel for himself, his body dripping wet, and I couldn’t help but let my eyes track the droplets of water down his bronzed, muscular body before bringing my eyes back up to his once more.
We stared at each other for a moment, the air between us filled with a pregnant, poignant pause.
His eyes were unreadable.
He led me out to his room, stopping me when we got near his bed. I looked at him questioningly when he grabbed my shoulders with those big hands and gently pushed me down.
And for the first time since the shower, I found my voice. “What are you doing?”
He pulled the towel away from my body and dropped it to the floor, his eyes taking in every inch of my naked body.
“Worshipping you,” he answered softly. “Making you hate me less.”
My breath stuttered as he positioned me in the middle of the bed, crawling between my legs. I gasped when the tip of his penis brushed the inside of my thigh.
I briefly wondered if he thought sex would resolve everything. And I wondered if I would deny him, especially when I was feeling like this.
He braced himself on his elbows and looked down at me. Droplets of water from the shower that he hadn’t dried dripped down to my skin, and it felt—loud. Almost as loud as the thud, thud, thud of my heart galloping in my chest.
“Killian,” I muttered.
He grasped both breasts in his hands. I wasn’t big, but his hands made me feel smaller.
My hard nipples poked through his palms, and I knew he could feel it.
He fondled me softly, reverently, before pulling back and plucking at my nipples. I pushed my hips against him, wanting more pressure, but he pulled one hand away and pushed me back down on the mattress.
Fuck, what was he doing to me?
He leaned forward and kissed his way down my body, leaving heat behind where his lips touched.
I held still, trying to keep from reacting, from showing my emotions too quickly. That had never helped me in the past, especially when it came to these brothers. I didn’t want to be someone who gave so much away.
I closed my eyes instead.
“Mila,” Killian whispered against my skin.
I took a deep breath but didn’t answer him.
“Open your eyes. Look at me.”
I shook my head. If I did, he would see more than I was willing to share.
“Please.”
I paused.
Then I opened my eyes. He was by my belly now, and I was sure my eyes were rounded in surprise. Did he… did he just say “please”?
I swallowed, trying to get rid of the dryness in my mouth.
He kept his eyes on me and went back to kissing my skin, skimming his lips gently in circles around my navel before he dipped lower.
I gasped when he placed a kiss on the top of my mound.
Both hands grabbed the inside of my thighs and pushed my legs apart, baring more of me to him. Cool air kissed my drenched pussy lips, followed by his lips.
My hands balled into fists, and I bit my lips to keep from making any noise.
His movements were unhurried.
He took his time with me as if trying to remember every crease, every curve of me. Trying to remember the taste of me.
I didn’t know how long he ate me out for. Fifteen minutes? Twenty?
It seemed he couldn’t get enough, and he didn’t care to bring me to the brink. He wanted to take his time.
The building of my orgasm was slow.
Torturous.
I wanted him to go faster, harder.
I lifted my hips, but he only pushed me back down once more with his hands, never stopping the movement of his lips.
I bit my lip harder, my hands reaching down and grabbing two fistfuls of his hair. He didn’t seem to mind. I tugged on his hair even more when I felt his teeth on my clit.
“Fuck,” I said when he began to roll the swollen bundle of nerves around.
My stomach hollowed as I tried—and failed—to take as many deep breaths as possible. It felt like the air was being steadily seeped out of this room, killing me slowly.
I sighed with relief when he let go of my clit, but then he used the flat of his tongue to lick up my slit.
“Please,” I cried, as a strong surge of arousal gushed out of me. I was afraid to fall, but wanted to so badly.
I had never felt so conflicted.
He hummed around me, his eyes glinting in delight as they met my own.
This was far from over.
How exactly did he think this would make me hate him less? Because right now, I just wanted to murder him.
He licked me again and again, playing with my sensitive flesh before his tongue prodded my entrance.
My body twisted at the sensation, and I was sure my grip on his hair was becoming too painful because he gently pulled my hands away, holding my wrists in one hand and pressing them on my stomach.
I flexed my hands, but it was as I suspected.
He had me firmly in place.
He went back to teasing my clit while his other hand came out to play.
My eyes rolled back when I felt his fingers gently nudging my entrance before he pushed two thick fingers inside.
He pumped them slowly, steadily, moving at the same pace as his lips.
Tears burned my eyes, and I shook my head.
“Please,” I begged once more.
God, he was killing me.
And just when I didn’t think I could handle any more, I fell unexpectedly.
I no longer cared about not making any noise. I didn’t care that I was supposed to be mad at Killian or the brothers, or how I’d had a sense of defeat this morning.
I didn’t fucking care about anything except how it seemed to always feel like the Tiernan brothers knew how to play my body against me.
I lost.
I threw my head back and screamed his name, and Killian chose this moment to quicken his pace.
Fuck.
I wiggled, trying to get out of his hold, and twisted my legs, trying to get him to let up. None of those things worked, and all I could do was lie there, letting the orgasms kill me, a little bit at a time.
A sob burst free from my lips, and Killian finally let go. He covered my body with his, bracing his weight on his elbow.
I could feel his eyes on me, on my face, but I didn’t open my own eyes to look at him.
I didn’t think I could.
I felt his lips on the skin of my cheek. “Baby.”
Had the man ever sounded so gentle with me?
He told me he wanted to make me hate him less. I should hate him for what he’d just done to me. Hate him and his brothers, but what I felt was… nothing. I felt nothing when it came to him tracking me, but when it came to him and what he was doing to me, I felt… everything.
Tears streamed down the sides of my face, and he tensed above me. I opened my eyes as the tears escaped. He frowned, and I knew he was about to pull away. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held him close to me.
“Mila?”
The question in his voice was the one I didn’t know the answer to. One I didn’t want to know.
“Fuck me,” I whispered. This wasn’t going to make me hate him less. No, I wanted to hate him, and I needed him to do it. The tracking didn’t do it, and the total and complete annihilation of my own personal boundaries didn’t do it, so I needed him to do what he did best.
I needed him to fuck me like he hated me. I needed him to fuck me like he wanted to kill me, the way it had always been since the beginning.
“Mila…”
I shook my head. “Killian. Don’t make me beg.”
My bottom lip trembled. If he wanted to break me, that was the way to do it.
Frustration tinged in his brown eyes, as if he didn’t know what the right decision was. It was laughable that a man like him would ever find himself stuck in such a dilemma.
I kissed him, my hands running all over his warm chest, stopping when it got to his heart. It was racing.
Because of me?
He broke the kiss. We didn’t say anything. The only sound was our harsh breathing.
Then I licked my lips, still tasting him on my tongue, and he let out a soft curse.
“Fuck.”
He kissed me. I closed my eyes, savoring the taste of him, and it wasn’t enough.
I wanted more. And more. Just more.
I wrapped my arms around his neck once more, my palms running over the hard ridges of his back muscles. I loved every swipe of his tongue that I couldn’t get enough of.
I moaned in protest when it seemed as if he was about to pull away, and tightened my hold on him.
He grabbed my biceps, and drew his head back slightly for us to catch our breath.
There was something animated in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before.
My brows pinched in a small frown, and he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss there, bringing tears to my eyes. I tried to look away from him, but he was back, kissing me in a way he never had before.
Scowling Killian, I knew what to do with. Sardonic, mean and hateful, I knew. But this side? This gentle side to the man who had just gazed at me with softness in his eyes, who was kissing me not like he loved me, but like he could…
I didn’t know what to do with him.
He tugged on my bottom lip with his teeth before sucking it into his mouth, and I whimpered from the pleasure that pulsed through me.
I kissed him back.
Could he feel the desperation in this kiss? Could he tell how badly I needed him to be the man I hated in that moment?
Where his movements were gentle, mine were vicious and ugly.
It didn’t seem like he minded, but he was too good at controlling the kiss. He didn’t let me be vicious or ugly. He softened my kiss with his lips, and tears seeped through my closed eyelids.
I gave up.
I softened my movements to match his and felt his hand move between our bodies.
I pulled back enough to see him stroking himself, his length hard and angry. I swallowed. He was thick and long, and I knew, just knew , this was going to hurt so good.
His eyes met mine as he took the tip and led it forward. We didn’t look? away when he nudged at my entrance, didn’t look away when he moved inside me, one tortuous inch at a time. The stretch of him nearly had me coming undone.
He pushed in further, and the pleasure seemed to shoot off like fireworks inside me.
“Killian,” I begged. “Please stop torturing me like this.”
He smiled softly, even if there was something ironic about his softness, and something inside me broke.
He pushed in all the way, and we both groaned at the same time.
I closed my eyes and buried my face in his neck when I heard him mutter, “Fuck.”
And then his hips moved, and I forgot everything else but him.
Fuck, my thoughts echoed his sentiment.
My nails dug into the skin of his hard shoulders, holding so tightly, I wondered if he would wear the imprints of my touch for the next week.
“Killian,” I murmured. I rotated my hips softly to match his movements, and he let out a harsh breath of air between his teeth before coming back to kiss me again.
I nipped at his lips, wrapping my legs around his waist, my heels digging into his ass, trying to get him to thrust faster.
I grunted in frustration when his movements remained languid and soft, and my hands slapped down his back as I tore away from the kiss.
“Killian,” I whined.
The mean man just laughed.
“Please,” I begged, kissing along his jawline. He tensed and grabbed my hands, holding them above my head by my wrists, his movements becoming more frantic.
“Look at me,” he demanded gruffly, his voice powerful enough to hold me to him. At this point, I wasn’t sure if I was strong enough to deny him anything if he demanded it. Especially in that voice of his.
My eyes locked onto him as his thrusts became more forceful, causing my teeth to clack every time he drove back inside me.
He did what I wanted. Those slow movements became so strong, so out of control, I had no choice but to come apart at the seams. And how suddenly it had all happened too. I hadn’t been prepared for it. His other hand, the one that wasn’t holding onto me, squeezed down between us, his fingers seeking my clit. He rubbed over it again and again in circles, prolonging my orgasm. I twisted beneath him as another orgasm tore through me, tightening my stomach muscles.
Fuck, how could it always feel like this with the brothers? How could it always feel as if I was teetering on the edge, not knowing how to get back?
Fear ran along my spine as I questioned my own sanity.
Killian’s eyes were focused on me. I didn’t think he had ever looked away.
I tried to move the hands he held captive, and he increased his thrusts. During the beginning of my third orgasm was when I felt him tense above me. I knew he was coming with me when I felt him swell, his muscles tightening.
With a roar, he came, pulsating inside me. The wetness pushed me over completely. I tried to pull away from his grip once more, and this time, he let me.
I clung to him, wrapping my arms and legs around his body as I came with him.
“Fuck, look at you, baby. You feel so fucking good,” he said close to my ear. “I fucking love the way your tight little cunt milked my cock.”
His words plunged me harder, deeper. I closed my eyes and buried my face in his neck, trying to ride the orgasm.