Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lily
The grass is wet against my bare feet, each step a soft, sucking sound as I tear across the open field.
My lungs burn, a hot, tight ache that has nothing to do with the stitch in my side and everything to do with the man chasing me.
Behind me, I can hear his footsteps, heavier, more rhythmic than my own frantic, scrambling pace.
“You can’t escape me, Liliana.” Killian is enjoying this.
A sharp, familiar pain twists deep in my lower belly like a hot knife, digging into my womb, flaring up at the worst possible moment.
I gasp, my stride faltering for a half-second as the cramp radiates through my pelvis and down my thighs.
It’s a sickening, grounding pain, the kind that makes me want to curl into a ball and disappear.
But I can't. I push through it, gritting my teeth so hard my jaw aches.
I focus on the distant line of trees, my only hope for cover, and force my legs to pump faster.
"Getting tired, Lily?" Killian's voice rolls across the field, closer than I want it to be. It’s a low, amused rumble that vibrates right through me, bypassing my fear and hitting something else, something dark and reluctant. "You can't run forever."
I don't answer. I just run. The wind whips my hair across my face, stinging my eyes.
The world is a blur of green and gray, the sky above so dark, lit up by the moon.
Another cramp seizes me, worse this time, and I stumble, catching myself with my hands before I face-plant in the mud.
I can feel his presence now, a heat at my back, the sheer force of him closing the distance.
My legs give out just when he hits me.
It isn't a gentle tackle. It’s a full-body collision that knocks the air clean out of my lungs.
We go down hard, a tangle of limbs and curses.
The impact sends a fresh jolt of agony through my pelvis, and I cry out, a raw, pained sound.
The damp earth is cold against my cheek, the smell of grass and mud filling my nostrils.
Killian is a solid, heavy weight on top of me, his chest a warm, unmoving wall against my back.
"Got you," he breathes into my ear, his voice a low growl of triumph.
I buck beneath him, thrashing with every ounce of strength I have left.
I am all elbows and knees, a wildcat caught in a trap.
I throw my head back, trying to smash his nose, but he dodges, laughing.
The sound vibrates through his chest and into my spine, infuriating me.
He captures my wrists in one of his large hands, pinning them above my head with an ease that makes my stomach clench.
His other hand grips my hip, holding me still against the ground.
"Stop fighting," he commands, his voice losing its playful edge and taking on a harder, more dominant tone. "You know I’m your only shot to get back home."
"Fuck you," I spit, twisting uselessly in his grip. The pain in my belly is a throbbing roar now, but it is mixing with something else—a hot, liquid pooling of anger and unwilling arousal. I hate him for it. I hate myself for it.
He shifts his weight, pressing his knee between my thighs, forcing them apart. I can feel the hard, thick line of his cock against my ass through the thin fabric of the yoga pants. He is hard. Of course, he is hard. Killian gets off on power.
"Such a filthy mouth," he murmurs, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin behind my ear.
He releases my wrists, but before I can use my hands, he grabs a handful of my hair, pulling my head back and exposing my throat.
His other hand snakes around my body, roughly cupping my breast through my shirt.
He squeezes, hard enough to make me gasp, his thumb and forefinger rolling my nipple into a tight, aching point.
"But I'll bet that pussy's just as filthy, isn't it? Soaking wet for me right now."
I want to deny it, to scream that he’s wrong, but my body betrays me. A fresh wave of slick heat coats my folds, a direct response to his rough grip and his filthy words. I can feel it, a shameful, undeniable proof of my desire.
He seems to sense it too. He chuckles, a dark, knowing sound.
"That's what I thought." He lets go of my breast and fumbles with the button of my jeans, his knuckles digging into my stomach.
The sound of a zipper being lowered is obscenely loud in the quiet field.
He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my leggings and my panties, yanking them down to my knees in one rough motion.
The cool air hits my exposed skin, making me shiver. I am completely at his mercy, pinned to the ground with my pants around my knees and my ass in the air. It’s humiliating… and terrifying. And it’s making my clit throb with a desperate, needy pulse.
The first fat drop of rain hits the back of my neck, feeling a cold shock. Then another, and another, until the sky opens up and a steady downpour begins to soak us. The rain plasters my hair to my head, runs in rivulets down my back, and turns the ground beneath us to mud.
Killian doesn't seem to notice. He shifts, his weight lifting for a moment as he frees his own cock. I hear the rasp of his zipper, the rustle of denim. Then he is back, the hot, velvety head of his dick nudging against my slick entrance.
"Last chance to say no, Lily," he grunts, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.
I don't say a word. I just arch my back, pushing my hips up against him in a silent, desperate invitation.
It is all the encouragement he needs. He drives into me in one hard, deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt.
I cry out, a sharp, guttural sound of pain and pleasure as he stretches me open, filling me completely.
The cramp in my belly flares, mingling with the exquisite sensation of being so utterly possessed.
He sets a brutal pace, fucking me into the muddy ground.
Each thrust is deep and powerful, his hips slapping against my ass with a wet, rhythmic sound that is barely audible over the drumming of the rain.
His hand still fists in my hair, holding me in place, while his other arm wraps around my waist, pulling me back to meet each punishing stroke.
"Is this what you wanted?" he snarls in my ear, his voice ragged. "To be chased? To be caught? To be fucked like a little animal in the dirt?"
I can't answer. I can only moan, pushing back against him, taking every inch of his thick cock as he pounds into me.
The rain is pouring down now, washing the mud from my skin and mingling with the sweat on my body.
My clit is a swollen, aching knot of need, and with every thrust, his pelvis grounds against it, sending sparks of electricity shooting through my veins.
He reaches around with his free hand, his fingers finding my clit.
He rubs it in tight, hard circles, matching the rhythm of his hips.
The added stimulation is too much. My body tenses, my inner walls clamping down around his dick as a powerful orgasm rips through me.
I scream, my voice lost in the storm, as wave after wave of pleasure washes over me, so intense it’s almost painful.
My orgasm triggers his. He gives one final, deep thrust and roars his release, his hot cum flooding my insides. He collapses on top of me, his body a heavy, panting weight, his cock still twitching inside me as he empties himself completely.
We lie there for a long time, tangled together in the mud and the rain, our bodies slick with sweat and sex and water.
The pain in my belly has faded to a dull throb, overshadowed by the lingering echoes of pleasure.
I can feel his heart hammering against my back, a frantic, wild rhythm that matches my own.
For a moment, there is only the sound of the rain and our ragged breaths.
He won. And a treacherous part of me is glad he has.
My eyes flutter open and I try catching my breath.
I’m confused how a dream like that could leave me aroused and aching.
The dream was vivid, and I am repulsed by how badly I wish it were real.
Images of a shirtless Killian invade my mind, making me bite my lip with anticipation. Is this considered Stockholm syndrome?
When I try to turn on my back, I hit something solid, making me freeze.
Someone is in the bed with me. Slowly I turn my body, trying my best not to make the mattress move.
Beside me is Killian, asleep. He has both his hands behind his head, every muscle extenuated.
My eyes travel down his body and stop right where his morning erection lifts from the towel around his hips.
The bulge is big and I can’t take my eyes off it.