Chapter Nineteen
Lyra
Iswallow harshly, glancing around the enclosed space. There’s no one here to save me or give me reprieve. I can’t refuse Killian without him destroying me. If he wants to fuck me on this table, that’s exactly what he’ll get, and I’m powerless to say no.
There have been very few times where I’ve hated my life as much as I do now.
“Here?” I ask quietly.
“No, on the moon,” Killian quips. “Yes, here. Right now. Ass on the table, Lyra. Don’t make me ask again.”
“Don’t you think we’d draw attention—”
“I don’t give a shit what attention we draw.
In case you get any bright ideas after our arrangement is up about telling the world how horrible I am, this will serve nicely as the beginnings of a paper trail.
Half of the restaurant’s staff have seen us together.
I fired a woman for insulting you. I have witnesses to attest that I’m quite enamored with you, and that you’re my date.
Now, if the whole restaurant hears you scream, that could only improve things. ”
My eyes flutter closed. Even this lunch is calculated. Everything Killian does seems to be meticulously planned and accounted for; there are no wasted moments or useless hours with him. Everything has a purpose, including me.
My purpose is to get him off and effectively be his sex slave for the next two months.
I can’t hide the tremble in my body as I stand up, reach beneath my dress, and hook my thumbs under the waistband of my panties. I start dragging them down my legs, preparing to deal with yet another humiliation.
At the end of our deal, I’m going to be an expert at putting up with assault. The only way I can think of retaining some dignity is by screwing over Killian, even if he never knows about it and it never hurts him.
Killian’s eyes are glued to me as I shakily step out of my panties. Before I can place them on my chair, he takes them from my hand and shoves them in his pocket. My lips part.
“I need those.”
“I’ll decide what you need.” He pushes away his plate, glass, and silverware carelessly. Then, he pushes back his chair, motioning to the empty spot on the table in front of him. “Get on.”
I inhale a deep breath. Try to find some corner of my mind to dissociate to, and lift myself onto the edge of the table.
Killian doesn’t waste a moment of time. He pushes in his chair, spreads my thighs, and settles himself directly in front of my pussy.
Even with my height advantage, he’s still taller than me, but only just. He gazes right at my eyes as he pushes up my dress, dragging it over my ass and bunching it at my waist. I stare at the wall, breath hitching, and repeat the mantra of endure in my mind, over and over again.
“You want to dissociate, don’t you?” Killian asks conversationally, gripping my thighs.
“Even while you’re wet as a lake and shaking like a leaf.
That’s very admirable, Lyra, but I won’t fucking allow it.
You’re going to accept what I give you, and you’re going to do what I tell you.
If I want to have you in my bed every night for the rest of our arrangement, that’s exactly where you’ll be.
Legs spread, eyes on me, waiting to take my cock.
If you’d prefer to avoid that hassle, then I suggest you behave like an active participant. ”
“I’m not we—” my words cut off when he shoves two fingers inside of me. No preamble, no asking for permission…
And what greets him is arousal.
I squeeze my eyes shut. He lands a harsh slap on my pussy that forces them open and pulls a yelp from my lips. I cover my mouth with my hand, frantically glancing behind me to make sure nobody stumbles through the curtain.
“I’m going to eat your pussy for dessert.
You’re going to bury your hands in my hair, moan at the top of your lungs, and participate.
Whether this takes five minutes or five hours is completely up to you; if I need to edge you into oblivion to get your compliance, that’s exactly what I’ll fucking do. Got it?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer. He scissors his fingers inside of me, setting off an involuntary round of spasms, and leans forward, blowing on my pussy. He uses his free hand to spread my folds while I clutch the edge of the table, withholding a moan.
“I’ve wanted this ever since I first saw you, and one taste was enough to get me hooked,” he mutters.
He flattens his tongue against my clit and pulsates it. I’ve had guys go down on me—or attempt to successfully go down on me—before, and I’ve always either faked it or faked wanting their cocks so they’d give it up.
There’s no need to fake anything here. My eyes fall shut, my head tips back, and I bite my bottom lip to muffle a moan.
He languidly feasts on my clit, alternating between pulsing his tongue in circles, running the flat of it up and down, and then, wrapping his lips around it and sucking. Try as I might to keep myself quiet, a whimper pours out of my lips.
His hand on my thigh tightens, and his fingers slip out of me, reaching down to circle the hole that no one’s ever gotten near until the night he decided to shove ginger up there.
Alarm opens my eyes. “Wait—”
He doesn’t listen. His index finger starts massaging my puckered hole. When I try to wriggle away, whining, his teeth nip at my clit. I try to close my legs; he wedges his shoulders between them to keep them open.
If I move too much, this psychopath can bite me until I bleed, and I have no doubt he’d do it. He’s exhibited no signs of wanting to protect me from bodily harm—he’s the one who inflicts it.
All I can do is bite my tongue, grip the table until my knuckles turn white and stare at the ceiling as he plays with my body, using it however he wishes with no regard to my boundaries or desires.
His index finger, wet with my arousal, inches into my ass. I clench down on it, still sore from the figging. I hold my breath to trap a moan, and pray for this to be over quickly.
My body doesn’t maintain the same compunctions as I do.
Tension starts to tighten every single one of my muscles, and my legs begin trembling from the onslaught of sensation.
The stimulation is everywhere—his finger in my ass, slowly sliding deeper, his mouth alternating between lavishing my clit with attention and sucking the arousal leaking from my pussy, his fingernails digging into my thigh, and my sore ass balanced on the unforgiving edge of the table, lending an extra bite of pain.
I’m close to an orgasm in no time at all. Noises are trapped in my throat, I’m panting, and sweat is coating my skin. My ass starts to clench around Killian’s finger, fluttering with warning of my impending orgasm, and that’s when he pulls back.
The motherfucker pulls back.
I glance down at him, alarmed and bereft, and he locks gazes with me, a lazy smile stretching his shiny lips.
“I want to hear your moans, and I want your fingers tugging at my hair. Until that happens, you don’t get an orgasm.”
“I want you to drop dead,” I hiss.
“Mm,” he hums, amused. “With all these insults, you really must be falling in love with me.”
It strikes me that he doesn’t mind my rudeness, not when I’ve branded it as a love language. My brows pinch from curiosity as I stare at him, a mind-boggling realization dawning on me.
He doesn’t just want my body; he wants my companionship for the next weeks. It wasn’t just my physical appearance that drew him to me, that made him behave in this unhinged way—it was also my personality.
The sooner I give it to him, the sooner we can be done with this fucking circus.
He starts thrusting his finger in and out of my ass, slowly. I hide a grimace, and force myself to release a moan, which comes out strained and insincere.
Killian’s response to my effort is to shove a second finger inside my ass without preamble; I cry out in pain, trying to move away from him. He pinches my clit until I cry out again, louder, stuck in a spiral of agony.
“I don’t want your pain right now,” he tells me flatly. “But I’m not above punishing you for faking a moan. Don’t give me a reason to hurt you, and I won’t.” His hold on my poor clit gradually releases, and he rubs it in gentle circles, soothing the hurt.
A moment later, his deadly mouth goes back to work. I gather my courage, scrunch up my face in disgust, and thread my fingers through his hair. He grunts against my pussy, and the sound reverberates all the way through my body, hardening my nipples. My hold in his hair tightens.
I don’t trap the next moan that comes out of my throat. I let it loose, forcing myself to forget that there’s a restaurant full of people outside that curtain, and that the waitstaff are probably gathered outside it, listening in on my humiliation.
I forget that this is just part of Killian’s plan—trapping me further—and that I’d give my left pinky to get away from this nightmare. Instead, I surrender to the pleasure and let it carry me away.
This time when I crest, Killian doesn’t stop.
I jerk with a cry, tugging on his hair until it must be painful, clenching around his fingers.
He growls against my flesh and fixes his lips around my clit, sucking until I can’t withhold a loud moan that I’m positive carries throughout the entire restaurant.
I moan, I buck, I grind against his face, and I surrender to one of the most consuming orgasms I’ve ever experienced.
At the height of my pleasure, Killian pulls back, I hear the noise of a zipper going down, and a moment later, his cock slams into me.
I choke on a cry, clenching violently around his length, writhing.
He wraps his hand around my throat and squeezes, cutting off the noise.
“I changed my mind,” he says darkly, buried to the hilt inside me. “I don’t want anyone else to have your noises. They belong to me.”
I blink up at him, shivering from a mixture of fear and arousal, still orgasming around his cock.
“Hold my shoulders,” he tells me.
Caught in some mixture of lust and needing this to be over, I comply.
“Don’t make a fucking sound,” he warns me, loosening his grip on my throat. He draws his cock out of me slowly, then slams back in, jarring a whimper from my lips.
He cuts off my breathing. “What did I say?” he asks angrily.
He sets a punishing pace, fucking in and out of me like a madman, until I’m caught between a haze of pain, pleasure, and absolute delirium.
His cock grating against my sensitized nerve endings combined with the breath play and my leftover soreness has my eyes rolling into the back of my head.
I can scarcely breathe, scarcely move; all that’s left is to come, hard.
I orgasm until I’m incoherent. Until his hand can scarcely trap the noise.
Killian buries himself deeply inside me, cock pulsing as he comes.
His teeth latch onto the skin of my neck, sucking it deep into his mouth and biting down.
I’d scream if I could make a single noise—instead, my eyes roll into the back of my head at all the stimulation, and I silently shudder, caught in the throes of pleasure.
“Good girl,” he mutters, unlatching his teeth and gradually releasing the pressure on my neck. In the wake of our shared release, he smirks down at me, looking immensely satisfied. “I knew you were just as twisted as me.”
“I’m not,” I hiss, his words cutting through my post-orgasm fog.
“Tell that to your pussy, which is clenching down on my cock like it’s an eight-figure job,” he drawls. “Are you sure you don’t want monetary compensation? I’d pay millions for a pussy like this.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“I’d much rather fuck you.” He pauses, gazing down at me. “I’ll match your salary if you move in with me for the duration of our arrangement.”
“No!” I snap. “I’d like to be able to get at least some sleep.”
He seems slightly offended as he withdraws himself from me. “I have the most comfortable mattress in the world. My silk sheets cost more than your rent.”
“I don’t care about your money,” I seethe. “You can’t buy me with it.”
Killian’s brows furrow. He looks genuinely perplexed as I hop down from the table and right my dress. “Give me my panties.”
His expression goes blank. “No.”
“I don’t want to walk home with your cum running down my leg.”
“It’s your cum, too. Don’t worry, I don’t think you’re interesting enough for anyone to notice.”
“You really know how to make a girl feel special.” I run my fingers through my hair, wishing I had a mirror to check my appearance in.
“You are special, whether or not you see it,” Killian says. “Otherwise, why would someone like me waste so much time on someone like you?”
I don’t give him the satisfaction of a response. He gets off on degrading me, inside and outside of the times he’s fucking me.
I’m done giving him any impression that I give a single shit about the cruel things he says.