Chapter Nine
Killian
Imay have gone a tad overboard with those final hits, but hearing a denial from Lyra’s lips infuriated me. I wanted to punish her for having the gall, and so I did… but I didn’t consider how my actions might influence the next eight weeks I spend with her.
I had a plan when she walked into this office; keep a list of her infractions, punish her for them, then fuck her until she orgasms so hard she screams. At no point did I plan on abusing her pussy this way—it was a spur of the moment decision.
I don’t do spur of the moment decisions. Every single one of my actions is thought and planned out far in advance. When I don’t plan, I make mistakes.
As reluctant as I am to admit it to myself, this last part was quite possibly a mistake. It won’t change much; Lyra will still show up for interviews because I haven’t given her another choice. She’ll still do what I tell her to do, because I’ve ensured she’s entirely under my control.
But her reluctance will have a far stronger basis, and that’s because I miscalculated.
“We’re done, Little Bird,” I say carefully. She’s shivering from head to toe, unstable, possibly in shock. When I lean forward to kiss her shoulder again, she flinches so hard it’s as if I’ve struck her again.
My lips thin.
“Get dressed,” I say carelessly, even though I’m anything but careless right now. I care very much about this situation and the outcome, though I don’t intend to show her that. For some fucking reason, I cannot get this girl out of my thoughts, which is preposterous.
Comparatively, she’s a nobody. She’s irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. I have no intention of keeping her for more than a few weeks—long enough to get her out of my system.
If that’s the case, why can’t you stop thinking about her?
I shut down the little voice trying to overtake my thoughts. I can’t stop thinking about her because she’s a challenge and a novelty—two things I enjoy. Her novelty will wear off, and her challenge will die down.
Lyra slowly begins to straighten, breathing harshly.
Her eyes are puffy and red when she turns around.
She doesn’t meet my gaze; instead, she searches the floor, blinking slowly.
She looks confused and disoriented. I should probably keep her here for a little while—in fact, I’d like to keep her here for the rest of the day. Maybe even the rest of the night.
Maybe I should just have her with me for the next eight weeks. Give myself free access to her and plenty of time to get her out of my system.
The idea is so tempting and compelling, I instantly shut it down. I’m not generally in the business of denying myself, but these are special circumstances, and I don’t usually crave anything as much as I crave her.
While I dislike denying myself, I do prize self-control. Even Lyra isn’t tempting enough to make me lose it.
Isn’t she? You just lost control…
Again, I shut that voice down and visualize shooting it in the head.
Christ, this girl is making me lose my mind. Maybe I should look more seriously at having her killed. It would simplify things and remove the temptation.
Only, the thought of her cold, lifeless cadaver makes a ripple of disgust flip my stomach. No, she’s too beautiful, too valuable to take out of this world. Out of all of the people I’ve met, she’s ranked in the top 10 who deserve to live.
Lyra slowly bends down to retrieve her jeans. A whimper escapes her lips, and the sound goes straight to my cock. It’s rock-hard, aching to be inside her, but I gave her a choice and she chose. Even I have a code.
“Not those,” I say, shaking my head. She looks up at me, brows furrowed.
I could have her suck my cock again… but I promised myself that the next time I was inside her I’d claim her pussy, and I don’t intend to break that promise.
“Here.” I offer my hand. Even in her current state, she musters the guts to ignore it and rise on her own, wincing all the while.
Silly girl.
I round my desk and pick up the shopping bag I had one of my people collect earlier today. I’d assumed that my interview with Lyra today could result in some torn clothes should she resist, so I prepared.
My secretary didn’t comment when he delivered it, but he isn’t stupid. He knows something unsavory is going on here—he just has no idea how illicit it is.
I slide the bag across the desk. Watch as Lyra opens it, carefully searching her expression for any hints of a reaction.
When she withdraws a thong and lacy bra from the bag, her brows furrow, but she doesn’t comment or look at me. She slowly pulls the undergarments on, wincing and biting her lip.
I imagine she’s in a great deal of pain. The knowledge that I’ll linger in her thoughts and on her skin long after she leaves is satisfying, but not as satisfying as it would’ve been if I’d fucked her and wrenched an orgasm or two out of her.
Fucking her now would be downright cruel. Tempting, but too far, even for me. I have no issue using force with Lyra, because whether or not she realizes it, she does get off on it… and I’ve never seen that in a partner before.
I’ve never had the same urges with another woman as I do with her. I enjoyed hearing them beg when I was inside them, occasionally enjoyed delivering pain, but nothing like this.
Lyra is unknowingly opening my eyes to a whole new world of sexual proclivities. If she knew that she’s almost causing a second sexual awakening in me, I wonder if she’d be more or less afraid.
I refocus on the current object of my interest as she withdraws a tasteful, dark blue dress from the bag. It’s a sheath cut with a low neckline, meant to emphasize her lovely figure, with a row of golden buttons running down the front of it.
She pulls it on without comment. I’m almost disappointed it doesn’t have a zipper; I’d enjoy touching her right now, brushing her hair over her shoulder, maybe kissing her neck.
“Do you like it?” I’m not sure why I ask. Her opinion is irrelevant; it only matters whether I like it, and I do, very much. It emphasizes the curve of her slight breasts, dip of her minuscule waist, and her toned legs.
“I’d like to leave now,” she says, picking up her bag.
I nod. “I enjoyed our afternoon together. I’m looking forward to the next interview.” It’s scheduled for Wednesday, four days from now.
Suddenly, the idea of going that long without seeing her feels preposterous. I want to see her much sooner than that.
“Dinner tomorrow?” I ask her impulsively.
She doesn’t respond, and it rankles me as much as it has every other time. Women and men alike go out of their way to earn an hour of my time, laboring ceaselessly to be worthy of me. I’m offering it freely to Lyra, and she pretends not to hear me.
I inhale a long breath. She doesn’t fawn over me the way everyone else in my vicinity does, which is frustrating and… admirable. She doesn’t want or need anything from me.
The fact that I’m more drawn to her than she is to me could present a problem… but I remind myself that she doesn’t matter. I’m simply going to fuck her out of my system. If she doesn’t want to reap the benefits of my time, that’s her loss, not mine.
When she pulls on the door, it opens. I engaged the locking mechanism with a single press of a button beneath my desk.
“I’ll see you soon, Lyra,” I call out.
She doesn’t look back or acknowledge my words, which cements my decision.
I’ll be seeing her much sooner than fucking Wednesday.