Chapter Four
My feet move before my mind’s had the chance to catch up. Nausea churns my stomach and my limbs feel like they’re made of lead, but I force myself to move. Logically, enduring whatever he has in store for me is the best case scenario. I leave with my career and life intact.
My fear doesn’t want to follow logic, though… but my brain is forcing my body to comply.
When I’m finally in front of Killian, he takes his time drinking in the sight of me. His gaze feels like a thousand insects as he sweeps it over my face, down the length of my neck, and takes his time staring at my cleavage. It goes lower, over my hipbones, my thighs, and finally, down to my feet.
“You truly do look stunning in that dress,” he murmurs. “I’ve met many beautiful women… but none quite like you.”
I don’t respond; what the hell is there to say?
“Turn around,” Killian commands.
Like a doll without agency, I follow his command. I thought not having to face him might be easier, but the moment I feel his hands brushing my hair from my back, I jerk and step forward.
He grabs my arm in an iron, bruising, painful grip that makes me gasp. He doesn’t release it for close to a minute, until a long whimper escapes me. He successfully transmits his message; when I don’t follow his orders, he’ll hurt me.
Just like every other powerful man I’ve dealt with.
Tears prickle my eyes, but my pride refuses to let them fall.
Killian fingers the neckline of my dress in one hand and uses the other to draw the zipper down with painful slowness.
He pushes the material over my shoulders, but I lift my arms to trap it, to try to hold onto at least a little bit of modesty.
Only he won’t even give me that much. He doesn’t hurt me this time; simply waits until I drop my arms. It takes several beats, but finally, I do, and my entire posture sags along with the material of my dress as it hits the floor.
Killian runs a hand over my spine, and then grabs my ass with both palms. A single tear drips down my cheek at the sheer humiliation, but I’m quick to wipe it away.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs. “Get down on your knees,” My breath gets trapped in my throat. My body flashes cold, then hot. He’s going to make me give him a blowjob.
I suppose it could be worse—things can always be worse. I just don’t see how right now.
It’s humiliating to make me participate in my own rape… but again, what choice do I have? Try to run? I nearly laugh at the thought. He’ll catch me, and then I don’t know if I’ll be walking out of here alive.
I don’t know if I’ll be walking out of here alive right now.
“Lyra,” Killian says, warning underscoring his tone.
I turn around and drop to my knees. Try to find some safe place to go in my head—somewhere I can dissociate from this living nightmare.
I should’ve stayed out of this office. I should’ve told my curiosity to go fuck itself.
“Take my cock out of my pants,” Killian says.
I wince at his crude terminology, then flick my gaze up to meet his eyes. They’re still bright with excitement—in fact, his entire expression is filled with it. A lazy smile of satisfaction curls his lips, his eyebrows twitch… he looks more alive than I’ve seen him.
“This is what gets you off?” I whisper. “Forcing a woman—” I cut off with a cry as he grasps my chin in a painfully firm hold. I know I’ll have bruises on my arm from when he grabbed me earlier, and now, they might be accompanied by bruises on my cheeks and jaw.
“You’re not here to ask questions,” he growls. “You’re here to be a good little writer and fucking obey. Do I need to list the consequences should you refuse?”
He releases me and leans back again, once again affecting that air of careless satisfaction. “Take out my cock, Lyra.”
I feel my throat bob as I swallow, reaching for his belt.
My hands shake so badly I fumble through undoing it, but Killian doesn’t deign to offer me any help.
He watches as I unbutton his trousers and pull down the zipper.
His eyes alternate from staring at my unimpressive cleavage—I’m barely an A-cup—to watching my expression.
I reach into his pants, eyes bulging as I curl my hand around the length of his cock.
Jesus, he’s well-endowed. My fingers barely touch. His skin is smooth, warm, and velvety—in another situation, I might be eager to feel him up.
“Impressed?” he taunts. “Of course you are. Have you ever been with a man, Lyra?”
“I’ve had plenty of sex.” Slight exaggeration, but I’ve had enough disappointing experiences to not search out hookups or relationships.
“I didn’t ask if you’ve had sex. I’m sure there have been fumbling boys. I asked, have you ever been with a man?”
I meet his eyes, defiance flaring in my chest. “I’ve never been with a rapist.”
His jaw flexes. “Take out my fucking cock, Lyra. I’m going to make you choke on those words.”
I swallow again, pray that I don’t throw up from this degradation, and pull out his cock.
I do my best not to stare at it, but that’s challenging, considering it’s huge.
The size of Killian’s dick perfectly matches the sheer levels of his depravity, and what’s even more concerning is just how hard he is.
His thick length is covered in bulging veins, the tip is turned a dark angry red, and precum is already leaking from the slit.
He’s hard over forcing me. I guess that confirms exactly what sort of man he is.
“You ever sucked cock before?” he asks mildly.
I nod.
“Good. Start with the tip. You better work for it, Lyra, or maybe I’ll decide the world will be better with you working at McDonalds rather than a high-power newspaper.”
I swallow down the bile gathering in my mouth. Take a deep breath and allow myself a moment to mourn my dignity and my pride. He’s stripping it all away and leaving me with nothing but self-deprecation, hatred, and a plethora of ugly emotions that take root in my soul.
Finally, I lean forward and wrap my lips around Killian’s tip, not hiding my grimace as the salty taste of his precum explodes over my tastebuds. My mission right now is simple; get him off as fast as possible, and try to make his orgasm good so I can leave with some pieces of me left.
Killian reacts to my initial efforts with a low groan. His hand fists my hair painfully—I whimper at the stinging pain in my scalp, which makes him groan again in a deep, rumbly baritone that does… something to me.
I’ve always been appreciative of men who make noises in the bedroom. Grunts, groans, and moans are methods of praise that work wonders on me. No matter how horrific or nonconsensual my current predicament is, Killian’s sounds have some impact on me.
Finish him off and get out fast, Lyra.
When he applies pressure on my head, hinting for me to take him deeper, that’s what I do.
It’s a challenge; his girth activates my gag reflex as soon as the tip of his cock hits the back of my throat, and I try to pull off, but he doesn’t let me.
Instead, he forces me down farther, until he’s in my throat.
It fucking hurts. My eyes water, I gag again, but Killian is as merciless as I suspected he’d be.
He starts controlling all of my movements, tightening his grip on my hair even more as he guides me up and down his length, heedless of my resistance.
My hands slap at his thighs, but he doesn’t stop or slow down; if anything, his cock grows harder in my mouth.
He is the epitome of depravity and wrongness. He is everything that’s foul in this world.
And in this moment, I’m helpless against him.
He forces me down over half his length. Instinctively, I wrap a hand around his base to try to give my poor throat a break from having to take him any deeper, and this seems to please him.
He lets me off his cock just long enough for me to inhale a precious breath, and then jams half of it down my throat again.
I start jerking off his remaining length, using my spit as lubricant. I’ll do anything in my power to make this end sooner.
My efforts pay off, but unfortunately, they make Killian even more zealous.
He starts thrusting up each time he presses me down, growling with approval, and his noises grow in loudness and deepen in pitch.
After several infinite minutes, his cock starts to pulse.
He’s close, thank fuck. I tighten my suction until it makes my cheeks ache and jerk him off with such vigor I’m amazed it isn’t painful.
“Fuck,” he growls, and forces me so far down his shaft, I gag over and over again, completely losing control of my body.
His cock jerks and pulses, and I feel ropes of liquid shoot down my throat.
As soon as he releases me, nausea almost wins out.
I fall back on my ass, clapping a hand over my mouth as I heave several times, praying to God I don’t actually start vomiting.
It takes a while for my nausea to recede, but it thankfully does.
As soon as I regain my bearings, I glance at Killian.
He’s reclined on the couch, chest rising and falling with harsh breaths, eyes glazed over with pleasure, forehead glistening with a fine sheet of sweat.
He looks so attractive it’s fucking cruel.
Killian King is an apex predator for a multitude of reasons, but his beauty is what truly makes him dangerous. It’s easy to fall into the sweet trap he spins for the rest of the world because he’s poised, gorgeous, charismatic, and powerful… and now, I’ve seen the monster that hides under the veil.
Anger sparks in my chest, lighting a fire within me.
I know I’m significantly less powerful than him, but I will ruin him.
I have to, after what he’s done to me—I have to find justice for myself and for any other woman he’s done this to.
For all the people he’s doubtlessly harmed or fucked over, sexually or otherwise.
“That was—” Killian gives his head a shake. “I haven’t come that hard in years.”
“Been a while since you raped someone, then?” I seethe.