Chapter Thirty-One #2
Killian stops instantly. He waits, silently and impatiently, squeezing my hands. “Elaborate.”
“I love it.” The admission is torn out of me on a sob. “You’re right. I love not having a choice. I love that I don’t get to say no.” Shame lights me up from the inside out, making my soul shrivel. “I love the pain, the pleasure, and your dominance. I crave it.”
Tears and snot stain my cheeks. My ass burns, and my pride is demolished. I feel like a circus animal to be stared at through the bars of a cruel cage, not a person.
It hurts me—not just my body, but my soul.
Killian gradually releases my hands, easing up the pressure. I remain in place, too scandalized to even look at him, but he’s not kind enough to give me a choice. He lifts me up, arranges me so I’m straddling his lap, and cups my cheeks. “Ride me.”
I look anywhere but at his eyes. “Please don’t make me.”
“Sweet Lyra.” He nips my neck. “You just admitted that you love it when I make you.”
I did. And, in true Killian fashion, he doesn’t give me a choice.
He lifts me by the waist, aligns his cock to my entrance, and slams me down onto his length with such force I yelp.
The burn and stretch is intense—there’s always a stretch with him, no matter how many times I take his cock—but it’s nowhere near as bad as the pain setting my ass on fire.
It hurts so much it feels amazing. I’m already hovering on the edge of an orgasm, pleasure slowly simmering its way through my veins, making me feel lightheaded.
“Look at me,” Killian requests quietly. When I shake my head, he repeats harshly, “Look at me.”
My eyes snap open, and our gazes collide.
The whole world narrows down to a single point; his alarmingly green eyes staring into my own.
He slides a hand up my back, into my hair, and pulls my head towards his.
His lips claim mine in a kiss that’s confusingly gentle compared to the vigorous force of his thrusts.
His tongue traces the seam of my lips and dances along mine.
He fucks me like he hates me, but he kisses me like he feels something else altogether.
“I can feel your pussy fluttering around my cock,” he whispers, pulling back. He kisses a path from my jaw to my ear, and suckles on the lobe playfully. “You want to come, don’t you?”
I nod with a whine.
“Good. You’ve suffered enough for me; come, Lyra.” He captures my lips, swallowing my moan as I fall apart, feeling raw and vulnerable as pleasure overwhelms me, flooding my senses with a fuzzy sensation.
Killian, however, is nowhere near done. He picks me up, keeping his cock inside me, and manages an impressive maneuver that ends up with me on the bed and him impaling me.
He flattens my back to the bed, plants his hands beside me, and stares deeply into my eyes as he fucks in and out of me like his life depends on it.
I clutch his shoulders, wincing, moaning, and crying out for dear life.
“Best fucking pussy I’ve ever had,” Killian says under his breath. “Belonging to my best good girl.” He gathers my wrists and pins them above my head. I close my eyes and whimper, the praise washing my body with a wave of warmth.
“You love being praised,” he chuckles, though the words are strained. “And you love being my good little slut.”
The only response I can manage is another, louder moan. God, this man will be the death of me. I can feel it.
“Can you come for me one more time?” he takes my earlobe beneath his lips and nips at it, startling me. “I want another one out of you.”
My body aches and my ass burns. Every one of his thrusts grinds my raw cheeks into the sheets, igniting a new wave of deliciously cruel pain.
If he keeps going like this, I won’t be able to stop myself from orgasming again.
I’m hovering on the perfect edge of pain and pleasure, and it’s driving me out of my mind.
“Come,” Killian says, releasing my hands to pinch and twist my nipple painfully. “Come for me right now like a good girl—yes, that’s it,” he cuts off with a hiss as my pussy convulses around him once more.
He surges forward inside of me once, twice, and then buries himself deep with a roar.
My body goes limp, as if all the strength has been siphoned out of me.
Killian presses a kiss to my lips, rolling his hips one more time, then withdraws.
He stands from the bed and walks into the en-suite bathroom, while I roll to my side to give my ass a reprieve, eyelids drooping.
I don’t know how Killian expects me to go out after that scene.
He comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later. “I have a meeting to get to,” he says, frowning down at his phone. “Stay in tonight. Order room service. A courier will be along shortly with clothes—try them on and pick which ones you like. The rest will be returned.”
I nod silently, too tired to argue.
Killian sweeps a gaze over my body one more time, mutters a curse under his breath, and leaves the room, shaking his head. I let my eyes close all the way, resolving to refocus on my tasks tomorrow.