Chapter 39 Killian
The moment the hotel suite door clicked shut behind us, Chloe turned on me like a storm. Her hands tugged at my jacket, yanking it down my arms with impatient fingers. She pushed me back against the wall, her mouth crashing into mine in a hungry, messy kiss—all teeth and tongue.
“Chloe—” I started, but she didn’t let me finish.
She pulled back just enough to look up at me, her eyes bright and wild. “Did you see her face?” she breathed, a breathless laugh escaping her. “She looked like she was going to faint. It made me all tingly, Killian. It feels like electricity under my skin.”
I cupped her face with both hands, thumbs brushing her cheeks.
“You were so fucking brave in there,” I said, my voice filled with pride.
“Walking up on that stage like you owned it. Taking back your words.” She had stood up for herself, and though I was proud, I kept thinking, what does she need me for?
She started thanking me between kisses, her lips trailing down my jaw, her hands working frantically at my belt. “Thank you… for being there. For the men. For coming here with me. Thank you, thank you—”
She dropped to her knees right there in the entryway, fingers quick and eager as she freed my dick from my dress pants.
I was already half-hard from the adrenaline and the way she’d looked on that stage—powerful, untouchable.
The second her warm mouth wrapped around me, a low groan tore from my throat.
Chloe took me deep immediately, lips stretched wide, her tongue swirling as she sucked with hungry, wet sounds. Her eyes flicked up to mine, one hand stroking what her mouth couldn’t reach while the other gripped my thigh.
“Fuck, baby…” I muttered, my fingers threading gently through her silk-pressed hair. The heat of her mouth, the way she moaned around my dick like she was starving for it—it was almost too much after the intensity of the day.
I didn’t want to cum in her mouth, though.
I slid my hands under her arms and pulled her up off her knees, ignoring her soft whine of protest. In one smooth motion, I turned her around and pushed her forward over the console table in front of the large mirror.
Her hands braced against the surface, the olive polka-dot dress riding up as I shoved the hem higher over her hips.
She bounced her ass when she caught me looking.
I kicked her heels apart gently, spreading her legs. She never wore panties. She was already soaked—I could see the shine on her inner thighs. I freed myself fully, lined up, and pushed into her slowly, inch by thick inch, watching her face in the mirror the entire time.
Chloe gasped, her mouth falling open as I filled her. Our eyes locked in the reflection. I started moving with deep, slow rolls of my hips, dragging my dick almost all the way out before sliding back in, savoring the tight, wet heat of her pussy clenching around me.
No frantic pounding. Just slow, deliberate thrusts that made her whimper softly with every stroke; I was trying to steal her soul.
The only sounds in the room were our heavy breathing and the quiet, wet slide of skin against skin.
Her breasts pressed against the table, nipples hard through the thin fabric.
I kept one hand on her hip, the other sliding up her back to tangle in her hair, holding her gently in place so she couldn’t look away from the mirror.
“Look at you,” I whispered, my voice low against her ear as I rocked into her again, deeper this time. “So fucking beautiful and free.”
Our gazes stayed locked in the glass. Every slow thrust drew a shaky breath from her; every retreat made her push back against me, fucking me back, chasing more.
The pleasure built gradually, thick and heavy, our breathing growing louder, more ragged, fogging the mirror slightly in front of her mouth.
I leaned down, pressing my chest to her back, still moving slow and deep inside her, never breaking eye contact in the reflection.
Neither of us spoke again for a long time. My heart ached because I knew this wouldn’t last forever.