9 - Thea
Thea
KILIAN’S MOUTH CRASHES into mine, and my brain blanks.
Not a slow drift into sleep, but a blackout. Every light, every hum, every background noise suddenly gone.
The rain starts coming down. Heavy drops that hiss as they hit the hot ground, sending up the smell of wet ash and earth, coating the back of my throat.
I think distantly that the sky has terrible timing.
Or maybe it’s perfect timing. But I don’t know whether being trapped in this shallow cave until the rain stops is terrible or not, because Kilian’s mouth is sealed to mine.
He’s breathing right through the kiss, pulling air directly from my lungs.
I can’t think when I can’t breathe, and I can’t breathe when he’s this close.
He grips my jaw, fingers pressing into the hinge, tilting my face up. His tongue pushes past my lips, and I let him.
And I know… I know exactly why I’m letting him. The lie I’ve been feeding myself crumbles right there, and I can’t pretend anymore.
His tongue curls against the roof of my mouth, strokes slow, then tangles with mine until he draws it forward between his lips and sucks. Hard.
He does it again. Draws my tongue out and sucks, and each pull drags another noise from me that he swallows before it fully forms, stealing it, swallowing it down like we’re not alone, like there are walls too thin and ears just beyond them.
This must be what drowning feels like. Being pulled by the current, no solid ground for your feet to touch. Everything the water touches gets swept away.
Not the guilt, though.
The guilt doesn’t go. A rock sits at the bottom of my chest, and I feel its weight every time I inhale.
He lost his best friend. Took in a child not his own. Uprooted his entire existence to this mountain for her. And I threw the vilest accusation, crowned myself the savior. I called him a sexual predator. To his face.
The memory stabs through mid-kiss, and I flinch. Kilian catches it. His grip tightens for a second, but he doesn’t stop to ask. He goes harder instead, his mouth more demanding, hungrier, and I let him do that too because he’s swallowing my guilt along with the rest of me.
Thunder cracks, a deep growl that shakes the rock walls.
His chest slams against mine with every breath he drags in. Every exhale scorches my face because he won’t pull back far enough to breathe anywhere else.
My chest is concrete. Even here, even with his mouth on mine, I can barely breathe. So I kiss him harder because what else am I supposed to do when my conscience weighs this heavy? I shove it into the one thing that makes it quiet. That’s what.
Kilian’s mouth tastes of smoke and salt and the storm’s clean bite. My hands are on his shirt. I don’t remember putting them there, but they are, fists full of damp fabric. They won’t stop shaking either.
I became my parents.
I did the very thing I resented most: looked at someone and decided I already knew the whole story.
How could I have been so wrong? How could I see a monster when the person in front of me is a man who fights to protect?
His hands are trembling. Against my jaw. At my waist where his palm presses flat. The quaking seeps from his skin into mine. He told me about Simon. That’s what this is, probably. He doesn’t know how to land after that confession, so he’s pouring every unspent edge into this. Into me.
I take it all. His mouth, his hands everywhere, the rough drag of his body against mine. I take him all because every second scrapes the guilt thinner. This kiss is a forgiveness I haven’t earned. A mercy I’m stealing.
The alcove isn’t much shelter. The overhang barely holds back the downpour, but Kilian positions himself with his back to the opening.
He takes the full brunt of the rain without saying anything.
Just the instinct of a soldier who blocks a blow.
A man who defaults to a shield. That fact sits in my chest beside the guilt.
Water cascades down the rock, over his shoulders, splashing cold onto my arms where they’ve circled his back. But I can barely feel the chill. Only the heat where we’re pressed together matters.
He moves, and I’m going down. My backside hits the leather spread over the packed earth. The rough stone wall bites into my upper back through my blouse. But only for a moment before he slides me lower, easing me flat on the ground.
Thunder roars again. Lightning splits the sky right after, and for a second I see his face clearly.
Hovering. Staring down. Rain glues his shirt to those wide shoulders, rivulets tracing paths down his face before dripping onto my blouse.
The fabric goes transparent, clinging to my skin, and I watch his eyes track every curve now visible through the drenched cotton.
I’m soaked. Not just from the rain. I’ve been wet and pulsing since he first kissed me, maybe before that, maybe since he dropped to his knees and fought a fire with his bare hands.
You’re Sara’s teacher. The thought lands cold in the middle of everything warm, grounding me.
Kilian senses the shift.
His hand stills on my thigh, and he pulls back just enough for rain to drizzle between our bodies.
His eyes find mine in the dark. But then his head dips.
His mouth latches onto my nipple through the drenched blouse, teeth scraping the tight peak, and whatever thought I have about Sara…
about propriety… disintegrates before it finishes forming.
He’s not holding back now.
He tears my blouse. Buttons pop, sharp little sounds the rain almost drowns.
My breasts spill free, and he shoves the lace bra up and out of his way.
Rain pelts my bare skin, cold needles tightening my nipples to painful points.
He latches on again, this time on bare flesh.
His tongue flattens, then swirls, then sucks hard enough to pull my gasp.
“M-more,” I choke out, the word splintering. “More, more.”
I don’t even know if he hears me over the rain, but his mouth pulls fiercer, teeth grazing. Then his fingers touch my bare pussy, and my hips buck like I’ve been shocked.
My underwear. When did he…
He drags his thumb right where my lips meet, then parts the folds, exposing my tender flesh.
“You’re soaked.” He slides lower, finds the opening, pushes one thick finger inside, curls it, and my body sucks him deeper.
His chest heaves like bellows, and he brings his face right to mine. Rain and sweat drip from his jaw, splattering onto my lips, running hot down my neck.
“I’m going to fucking die if I don’t bury myself right now.” His voice is wrecked, barely controlled. “I need inside. Please.”
That word from him… this towering, inked, unyielding wall of a man begging. It demolishes me.
I open my thighs wider.
That’s my answer.
And that’s all the permission he needs. My skirt is shoved up to my waist in an instant. I hear his buckle rattle as he fumbles his pants down just enough. Then he’s there. The thick, blunt head of his cock nudges my pussy.
“Open wider,” he growls, rocking forward. A hard push, and the head slides inside. My fingers scrambles at the leather, nails dragging against the jacket until they dig into dirt.
“You’re squeezing so hard,” he says, pushing past the resistance. “Relax for me. Let me in.”
He pushes more, jaw clenched, a vein standing out on his forehead. One thick thrust. Then another. And another. Until he’s buried completely.
I’m still adjusting to the fullness when Kilian grips my hips and yanks me up. My lower half lifts clean off the ground in an angle. His hands and his cock—that’s what’s holding me up.
I start to panic. The position is too awkward, but there’s no time to protest because he’s already driving, his cock glistening every time he pulls out, slamming back in, disappearing into my body.
My breasts bounce with every snap. My torn blouse hangs limp and wet at my sides.
My skirt is a belt around my waist. My bra has ridden up to my collarbone.
I’m completely on display, being railed so hard.
The feeling… the feeling. His cock hits a spot so deep my toes curl. He notices and does it again and again. Pressure coils fast at the base of my spine, winding tighter with every thrust. Ten seconds. I’ve been in this position for ten seconds and already I’m scaling the edge.
I will come. Right this second. I am… I grit my teeth. No, I can’t let him know I’m this desperate. That I’m this starved for him.
I wiggle my hips. My hand flings out and finds his stomach. The muscle contracts under my palm, and I push against the hard ridges, trying to create distance. Trying to slow what’s already inevitable.
Kilian looks down at my hand, then back at my face. He stops. Puts me down. Reaches behind his head and yanks the wet shirt off in one second.
“There.” His voice rough. “Better?”
I meant slow down. I meant wait. But I don’t have breath to correct him because now that he’s stopped, I’m staring.
Even in the dark. The tattoos. A cross on the side of his neck, bold black designs sprawling over his left torso, ink covering his arms from shoulders to wrists.
The art shifting with each of his labored breathing like they’re alive.
I want to trace every line with my tongue.
I want to apologize for making him stop when stopping is the last thing I want.
He doesn’t wait for my answer.
He hooks his hands under my thighs, hauling my legs over his shoulders, angling me up. There’s no time to be embarrassed. I’m being repositioned too fast to think. His right palm slams into the dirt for balance, the other clamps down on my hip, fingers digging. Then he starts moving.
Just his hips moving.
Nothing else.
Sharp, rapid jerks that pull back with a wet drag, then slam forward with a deep strike. I’m transfixed by the vision of him he’s doing to me. His fluid absolute control of his body. I’m burning up so bad I can’t catch my breath. Smack. Smack. Smack. It’s the only rhythm in the world.
I grab his forearms. His wrists. Anything solid. The dam is cracking, splintering, about to explode.
He’s so deep this way. The head of his cock rubs that perfect spot over and over until my whole body’s buzzing. I think I say his name. I know I say something because his jaw flexes and he thrusts harder, gaining speed, and I’m right there.
I slap a hand over my mouth because the sounds I’m making are obscene, humiliating.
“No.” He grabs my wrist, pins it beside my head. His fingers lace through mine. “I need to hear you. I’ve been hearing you in my head every night. Your voice, begging for my cock. Now say my name.”
I can’t hold it in… I’m coming, almost there.
“Kilian!” The sound claws out, my hips bucking to match his rhythm.
“Louder. I want everyone on this mountain to know who’s fucking you.”
“Kilian!” I’m wrecked. I’m gone. I’m completely gone.
He accelerates, the pace turning savage. Rain pounds harder, streaming over his face, sluicing off his jaw and chest.
“Give it to me. Soak my cock. I want to feel you lose control.”
My legs tremble, muscles burning. A muffled scream rips from me when he grinds against my clit. “D-don’t stop. Please, don’t… don’t stop.”
My hands flail, clawing at mud and empty air, legs thrashing with no anchor. I’m falling, blind and screaming, white noise swallowing everything.
A pulse. Everywhere.
Behind my eyes, in my throat, between my legs. I can’t hear anything except the roar in my ears.
I scream again.
This time I hear it…
… the sound.
Thick, slick, a squelching rhythm of in and out. And the smell. Salty and musky and sharp.
My eyes fly open, body shaking all over. I can’t even breathe right. Kilian’s eyebrows are all scrunched up, his mouth hanging open, every muscle in his neck bulging. He’s still moving, still pounding my over-sensitive pussy. The sound is us. The smell is my own body’s flood, drenching his cock.
“I’m coming-fuck, you’re mine.” His voice is guttural, broken, raw. “Mine to fuck. Mine-to fill. I will pump you-full of-my-cum-you’re dripping-for days-everyone-will-smell-me on you.”
He rams in, burying himself to the hilt. Locks tight. His coarse pubic hair grates my swollen clit, a stinging burn that makes me wince. Before I can adjust, he’s already grinding more, crushing us into one.
His head tips back, face exposed to the rain, and unloads with a raw, beastly growl. Hot. Pulsing. Flooding me in thick, searing waves, spurt after spurt. My pussy grips tight on pure reflex, milking him, pulling every drop deeper.
His fingers loosen on my hips.
Kilian’s breathing is wrecked. He hovers above me, looking down, eyes darkened to slate. I’m flat on my back. Mud under my fingernails. Throat on fire from screaming. Lips swollen and tender from his mouth. My pussy is sore, still choking his cock… still leaking his cum.
The rain keeps falling, and neither of us moves.