Killian’s Vengeance

11. Willa

Chapter 11

Willa

I stared up at the ceiling from the comfort of Killian’s, my kidnapper's, bed and wondered for the millionth time if I had completely lost my mind. Why was I still here? Even though it was the middle of the night and I was in this ridiculous outfit, I should run out of here and never look back.

I should, yet here I continued to lay. As I did a mental review of my behavior since Killian released me, not one moment of it made any sense. I’d let him flirt with me, boss me around, kiss me and for some reason, I was still here.

If I was being honest with myself, I knew the reason. I was more attracted to Killian—my kidnapper and tormentor—than I had been to any man I’d ever met. What the hell did that say about me? It certainly explained why my past relationships with “nice guys” had never worked.

Apparently, I liked bad guys. And Killian was kind of a bad guy. He was aggressive and domineering, demanding and stubborn. Based on the discomfort he’d displayed, it had taken all of his resolve to apologize to me and ask for my help, even though he had clearly been wrong. He bossed me around and threatened me with punishment, even though he needed my help.

But he was also oddly protective, my heart warming as I remembered him jumping to shield me from his crazy friend, Cullen, who looked absolutely determined to snap my neck. He was also ridiculously hot, emanating dark, sexual masculine energy that felt like a body blow.

I craved the feel of his large, muscular frame against me, overwhelming me with his power, his seductive knowledge. The way his eyes blazed with sensual intensity with every command he uttered, and when he threatened to punish me, I was alarmed to realize I didn’t find it disturbing. I was intrigued and turned on. When he flogged me, it had opened my eyes in a way I hadn’t expected and now I wanted him to show me more.

Not that I’d admit that to him.

I’d been laying here for at least an hour willing myself to go to sleep. I was afraid what would happen if Killian returned and I was still awake. Afraid of what I would allow him to do, would encourage him to do. I had confidence in his attraction to me, that was hard to fake and there was no mistaking the long, hard length of his erection stabbing into me while he gave me a massage.

However, I also knew he needed me. He needed me to help find Lily, though I think they have grossly overestimated how much I could help them achieve that goal. They were going to be quite disappointed when they realized just how little I knew about Lily’s life. He also needed me to not rat him out to the cops. Even the thought of turning him in had my stomach doing somersaults, every particle of my being resisting that choice. I didn’t want to get him in trouble, but I had no idea why. What did that say about me?

Questions and self-recriminations continued to whirl in my mind like a mini tornado. I was never going to fall asleep at this rate. Adrenaline was practically burning through my system, firing every nerve cell. I was more anxious in this bed right now than I had been earlier when I thought Killian might kill me.

At least when I’d been tied to the bed, it had been by force. However, as I laid here tying myself into knots of self-doubt and self-flagellation for my reckless impulsivity, I had to accept that staying was my choice. I wasn’t being forced, so justifying the choice to stay was that much more challenging and uncomfortable.

Sure, what Lily had done was horrific and devastating. Helping them would be the morally correct choice, but no one would blame me for getting the fuck out of here as soon as possible either. I just wasn’t ready to make that choice. And that’s why I felt so messed up.

All too soon, I heard the scrape of a key in the lock and held my breath, not sure who I was more anxious about entering—Killian or his enraged, terrifying friend, Cullen.

I rolled over and closed my eyes, pretending to sleep. My heart was pounding, and my breathing resembled a steam engine, so I don’t imagine the pretense would last long.

Then I’d really have to make a decision.

I heard clothing being shifted, then the covers being pulled back and my body turned to a piece of granite. Killian’s warm body slid in behind me and I somehow stiffened further, still saying nothing. A breath of laughter tickled my ear. “You don’t honestly think I believe you’re sleeping, do you?”

I let out a breath, my body relaxing fractionally. “I wasn’t pretending to sleep, I was trying to go to sleep,” I said crossly, totally lying.

“Right.” His arm slid around my waist, his bare legs tangling with mine. Fortunately, I’d had the wherewithal to put my underwear back on. Lord, that would have been a green light. Not that inviting him to sleep in bed with me wasn’t.

“So, is that guy still pissed?”

Killian’s hand slid under my dress, not surprising because it was so damned short, and rubbed the skin of my lower waist and hip. The rough caress sent chills throughout my body. “He’s always pissed, but I got him to calm down a little. He should leave you alone, but if he doesn’t, you let me know.”

“Definitely. He’s pretty scary.” I had no plans to be alone with Cullen. Ever.

Killian grunted. “We’ve spent a lot of our lives swinging first and asking questions later. It’s a hard instinct to break.”

My eyebrows jumped at him revealing more personal information. He’d dropped a hint about his childhood, but quickly changed the subject. I was eager to hear more. “It sounds like you guys have known each other for a long time.”

“Mm. Since we were kids. Me, Cullen, and Mac.”

My stomach tightened at the sound of Mac’s name. This man—I didn’t even know his real name—who Lily had helped destroy, who was the reason I was lying next to Killian right now. I felt a wave of secondary guilt over what happened to him, even though I didn’t have anything to do with it. There were many times I felt guilt by association about something Lily had done, but this was by far the worst.

As if feeling my tension, Killian’s hand moved from my hip, sliding over the sensitive skin of my stomach and moving in light, soothing circles. Instead of soothing me, the light touch of his rough fingers caused tingles of delight and pleasure to skitter along my skin. I pressed my thighs together to control the pulse that flared to life between my legs.

“Look, Killian, I know I didn’t have anything to do with it, but I really am so sorry about what happened to your friend. To Mac.” I needed to say his name. He had been real and as much as it sickened me that my flesh and blood had been involved with his untimely death, I couldn’t pretend he hadn’t existed. “It sounds like you guys were really close.”

Killian’s hand paused momentarily, but then resumed its slow, erotic movements. “We were. We were like brothers,” he said gruffly, the emotional topic making his throat sound tight and raw. My heart pinched, unable to avoid the waves of grief and sorrow emanating from him. “The three of us since we were kids. It’s why Cullen’s acting the way he is. Why I acted the way I did.” His breath tickled the side of my neck and my ear, adding to the sensual assault his fingers had already started. I tensed slightly at the mention of our unfortunate beginning.

His lips moved closer to my ear. “I am sorry about what happened. What I did to you. Well, sorry it hurt and scared you,” he said, his hand moving to my bottom and stroking the welt he’d left on my ass. “You probably don’t want to hear about how not sorry I am that you’re wearing this and how much these marks—my marks—turn me on.”

I sucked in a deep breath. I wanted to be horrified and disgusted at his admission. I should be sickened that the painful marks on my body aroused him, but for some reason, I wasn’t. His confession just made me feel hot and achy, needy and desperate. His hand slid back around my stomach, sliding just beneath the edge of my panties, skating across the sensitive skin just above my pubic area.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, I knew where this was headed.

Feeling ashamed of my easy capitulation, I rallied a little of my backbone. “Well, take a long hard look because it will be the last time you see marks like that on my skin.” I wanted to sound tart but ended up sounding more challenging. Was I daring him to do it again?

His chest shook lightly with a chuckle as he slid his hand back over the welt on my backside, then pinched the cheek of my ass sharply. “We’ll see.”

I gasped, but he quickly rubbed his hand over the pinched area, rubbing away the sting and only leaving heat and agitation. Only the agitation wasn’t on the skin of my ass, it was between my legs.

He moved his hand back to my stomach, and instead of hesitantly hovering around the edge of my waistband, he slid his hand right in, covering my pussy with his palm, but not moving it. I nearly jumped, but his other arm slid around my front, just under my breasts and held me tightly.

“Do you want me to continue, Willa?” he whispered seductively in my ear, his thumb reaching up from around my ribs to softly rub my hardened nipple through the thin fabric of my dress. “I’ve thought of nothing but getting back inside this tight little pussy. You have no idea what you did to me when you were taking the flogger. Fuck, so sexy.”

A finger joined his thumb on my nipple, pinching and pulling it as his lips and tongue nibbled the skin of my throat, biting gently onto the spot where my shoulder and neck joined. I started to pant lightly, but still felt the need to resist.

“I want to fuck you, Willa. I want to show you pleasure you’ve probably never experienced in your life. Definitely better than some needle-dicked college kid,” he growled.

I gasped, a thrill shooting through me. Had anyone just stated their intentions so directly to me before? “That’s a pretty bold declaration.”

“Are you asking for proof?” His teeth latched onto my earlobe and tugged, just as his fingers teased my nipple. I was going up in flames and needed to make a choice right now. A part of me, the one filled with reasoning and sensibility was urging me to get the hell up and leave. Or at the very least kick him out of the bed. Unfortunately, that part was being obliterated by the white-hot lust spiraling through me. It was telling me to give in, to lean into his touch and take what he was offering with both hands. I didn’t want to tell him to stop, I didn’t want to kick him out— I wanted more, more pleasure, more touching, more hypnotic, dirty words.

I wanted it all.

He suddenly removed his hands, his fingers releasing my throbbing nipple and his hand moved to rest benignly on my hip. He moved his head to rest on the pillow behind me and I was hit with a tidal wave of deprivation and desire. Whether he had stopped touching me out of consideration due to my lack of consent, or it was some sort of reverse psychology meant to make me ache for his touch, it worked because now I found myself yearning for those big, rough hands.

I reached up and grabbed the hand resting on my hip and shoved it back into my underwear. “Yes, I’m asking for proof.”

“Thank fucking god,” he breathed out, more than happy to take over now that I had given him the green light. He quickly stripped me out of my panties and reached for my little dress to do the same. I eagerly assisted, now that I’d finally given into my lust, I had decided to embrace the experience.

“Spread your legs,” Killian said assertively, and I immediately complied. There was something about the tone of his voice, his presence that struck something inside me, something had me mindlessly responding to his every command.

He slid down between my legs, landing biting kisses on my inner thighs, kisses I knew would leave marks. I guess he figured if I would let him use a whip to leave marks, he could do it himself.

Two of his fingers moved to the opening of my pussy and pushed in, aided by the copious wetness he’d already created there with his earlier teasing. His big, rough thumb circled my clit as his fingers moved with increasing force. He leaned in and sucked a particularly big hickey on the skin right next to the crease of my thigh, but the pain strangely merged with the pleasure he was creating in other areas of my body.

He added another finger and moved his mouth from my thigh to my clit, sucking strongly as his fingers moved at a faster pace. I’d had guys go down on me before, but I’d never gotten off on it. For some reason, the vulnerability of the position always made me too anxious to relax. And while most guys tried hard to make it good, they didn’t seem to know where to actually touch and just sort of moved all over the place. I was too uncomfortable to correct them, even guys I’d dated for a while.

Killian had no such problems.

He knew exactly where to touch, his fingers finding places inside of my body I never even knew existed. His tongue moved with precision, swirling and darting with such dizzying accuracy that I found myself hurled to the edge of orgasm almost immediately, my body convulsing and tightening as the wave of pleasure climbed higher.

Just as I hovered on the edge, he curved his fingers upward and rubbed, simultaneously moving his tongue with such hectic, pleasure-giving speed that my mind exploded as hot ribbons of ecstasy spiraled through my mind and echoed through my body.

“Oh my god,” I gasped, as my hands thrust into his hair, desperate to keep his mouth on my body, to extend the bliss even further. He reached up and grabbed my hands, holding them down at my side, while his tongue languidly moved over my clit, which throbbed with the last tremors of my orgasm. His fingers slid out of my body and I looked down to see him slide them in his mouth.

“Mmm. You taste better than I imagined,” he said huskily, then moved up my body, his skin felt scorching hot as he pressed his large frame down on mine. His forearms held the majority of his weight off of me, but had the effect of caging me in. His emerald eyes stared intently into mine, and I felt oddly unsettled at the feeling of vulnerability. Unsettled enough to close my eyes completely.

“Open your eyes,” he demanded immediately. Unable to resist his command, I grudgingly opened them back up. “Why are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding,” I denied, but he was right. I had been hiding. There was something about him that I didn’t know how to deal with. Actually, everything about him felt like something I didn’t know how to deal with.

He stared at me skeptically and I conceded. “Okay, maybe I was hiding a little.”

“Why?”

“This.” I used my hand to gesture to us, the sex, the situation. Everything. “It’s a lot to adjust to, this whole situation.” He nodded his head in understanding. “And you make me feel…”

“What? What do I make you feel?” he asked, curiosity burning in his eyes.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Unsettled? Exposed? Vulnerable? Confused? Insane?”

He leaned down and licked up my collar bone, landing kisses on my throat up to my ear. “Is that all I make you feel?”

I gasped, heat once again starting to build at his light, provocative touch. He allowed the lower half of his body to nestle more intimately against me, his very hard, very big cock sliding wetly between my thighs. “No, that’s not all,” I said, moaning throughout.

“No? What else do I make you feel?” he asked, knowing full well what I was feeling at the moment. He was moving his hips, the head of his cock rubbing against my clit as skillfully as his tongue had. His mouth moved to my right nipple, clamping the hard nub between his teeth, tugging and sucking as he awaited my answer. Asshole.

“I feel…” I started, but trailed off, thoroughly derailed by the way he was playing with me. At my faltering, he pulled his mouth off my nipple and gave it a hard pinch.

“You feel what?” he said, putting something extra into his voice, something that once again had me jumping to respond. His mouth went back to my breast, the other nipple this time, and resumed tormenting my senses. His fingers pinched and pulled the other nipple while his hips continued to shimmy against mine, grinding and rubbing me until I was once again on the edge.

“Overwhelmed…consumed…excited,” I panted out, my nails scoring across the skin of his back as I tried to somehow create more contact.

“Oh, we can do better than that,” he murmured, reaching two fingers down to my clit and giving it a tight squeeze before rubbing it briskly, once again mingling the pleasure and the pain, creating an emotional intensity I’d never experienced during sex.

“That hurt,” I pouted even though it really didn’t. I pretended it hurt more than it did because I was afraid that I’d start to like it, and what would that say about me.

He stopped rubbing my pussy and looked down at me, his look penetrating, like some kind of human lie detector. “You liked it,” he whispered. “You got even wetter when I did it.”

He followed up his words with another pinch and rub that had me squirming. “You like a little pain with the pleasure. I remember how you responded to the flogger,” he said, his wet fingers making their way to my ass and giving it a hard squeeze.

Startling as if I’d been tapped with a cattle prod, my eyes widened at the reminder of how my body felt under the tangled leather tassels of the flogger. The sensation of it slapping against my skin, the strange euphoria and heat that swept through me and created a longing I’d never felt. A longing I was eager to deny existed.

“I was under duress, or something. That doesn’t count.” Even as I said it, there was a dark voice in my head that contradicted me, that acknowledged there was some truth to his words. Even if I hated to admit it.

“Oh no?” he asked. He hastily rolled me over and landed a series of hard spanks to my ass, some hitting the cane mark. He’d nearly brought tears to my eyes, in my case, tears of pain and vindication—I was definitely not enjoying this—when he rolled me back over and shoved two fingers inside my pussy, his thumb once again strumming my clit.

The sensations of pain and pleasure collided into a stimulation overload that had me nearly on the verge of an orgasm. Not only had the spanking not detracted from my pleasure, it seemed to have enhanced it, releasing endorphins and any number of other chemicals into my bloodstream. As I was about to come, he used the finger of one hand to pinch my clit hard while his other fingers continued to vigorously ram inside me.

I screamed, my legs slamming around his hands as I tried to control my shuddering body. He had been so right, the pain on top of the pleasure had created such a maelstrom of emotions and sensations that I felt like my head was blown off. I could feel my pulse in every atom of my body, every cell had been suffused with pleasure so intense that it could barely be comprehended, and we hadn’t even had sex yet!

He rubbed his finger slowly around my pulsing clit. “This little beauty has taken a beating tonight,” he rumbled. “But I’m not done with her yet.” He ducked his head into my neck and started kissing and biting again. His hard dick was pressed against my hip and I felt a twinge of guilt. I was so replete, so wiped out, I had a hard time imagining that I would have the energy or desire to have any more sexual contact for the night.

I guess I could maybe give him a blow job. If I didn’t have to move.

As if reading my dip in energy, he continued to gently bite, suck, and kiss my flushed skin from my earlobes to my waist, careful to avoid my sensitive nipples. He slid further down my body, again avoiding the overstimulated area between my legs, instead focusing his attention on my inner thighs, behind my knees and even the instep of my foot.

As he made his way back up, he lavished my flesh with bites, nips and sucking kisses, increasing the pressure and intensity of his lips on my skin as he went. By the time his mouth got to my thighs again, I was doing everything I could to steer it between them.

“My turn,” he said, reaching over to the small table next to the bed and opening a drawer to remove a condom. “Put it on me.”

My eyebrows jumped in surprise. His request made me aware that I’d barely touched him, and now my hands itched to crawl all over his hard, beautiful body. Though he was holding out the condom, I slid my hands up his ridged stomach to the broad expanse of his chest, my thumbs rubbing lightly over his tight nipples.

He had a lopsided grin on his face, though the sensual look in his eye told me he was enjoying my touch. “Hm, you seem to be having a hard time following directions. Would you like me to provide you incentive to obey?” he asked, his hand once again sliding under the left cheek of my ass to rub the cane mark. I was once again mystified that we were joking about what had been, at the time, a deeply painful and terrifying moment.

“Maybe I don’t like to be told what to do.”

He cocked his head, and I could see him deciding whether to test me on my statement. Instead, he leaned in and his tongue slid up my neck. He started to grind his cock against me, sliding the head through the slippery crevice between my legs in a way that had us groaning into each other’s mouths. “As much as I’d love to prove you wrong, if I don’t fuck you, I’m going to go out of my goddamned mind. Put the condom on.”

I didn’t hesitate this time. I felt desperate to have him inside of me. My core was still throbbing with need, even though I’d come twice so far. It was like each time had only made me more frantic to have more—more orgasms, more of his touch, more of him.

He watched me put on the condom, groaning as I rolled it down his substantial length. “Fuck, I’m going to come just watching your soft, little hands roll that condom on my dick.”

Once I was done, I laid back, unsure of what to expect from someone as domineering and kinky as him.

Again, my expression must have broadcasted my thoughts, because his lips hovered over my mouth as if he was going to kiss me, before detouring to my ear. After giving me a soft bite on my earlobe, he whispered, “Normally, I restrain my partners. It turns me on to have complete control over them. However, considering our history, I’m not going to do that.” He paused. “This time.”

Instead, he took my wrists in one big palm and pinned them over my head, effectively shackling them with his own hand. As he stared into my eyes, his green eyes blazing with heat and power, his other hand drifted between my legs and lined the head of his cock up with the soft, wet opening of my body.

He rubbed the head of his cock around my opening, then gave a few shallow thrusts inside. When he got the large crown inside, he moved to hold my wrists in each of his hands, holding himself over my body like a push up, just the head of his cock in my body.

Catching my eyes once again, he watched me carefully, as his hips moved in a smooth slide, using only the head of his cock to fuck me. I started to squirm, my hands moving restlessly in his tight grip, wanting to rip them free, grab him and force him inside of me.

His muscles tensed and his hips moved in a powerful, forward jerk, slamming his entire length inside of me. I was instantly shot to the edge of orgasm.

“Oh my god,” I groaned and pulled his mouth toward me, needing to feel his lips.

Instead of giving in to my urging, he ducked his head into my throat and gave me another pounding thrust. I was so close; my eyes were watered, and my nails were embedded in the flesh of his back.

Instead of giving me the penetration I needed, he went back to the shallow thrusting. My fingers moved from his back to his hips, trying to get him deeper. He reached down and wrapped his hands around my wrists pinning them to the mattress. “You don’t run this, baby. I do. You just take it.”

I groaned, but I wasn’t certain if it was in arousal or dismay. I leaned my head up, attempting to connect my lips with his, but he pulled back once again.

What the hell? I frowned up at him, but just as I was about to ask him about the kissing, his hips started a hammering rhythm that had all coherent thought leave my mind, leaving me twisting helplessly beneath him as he slammed into me over and over, once again bringing me to the edge of orgasm.

Then he slowed down. Again.

“Noooo,” I screamed. “Stop slowing down,” I pleaded.

He smiled down at me, clearly reveling in my loss of control and his dominant mastery. Instead of speeding up, he pulled his dick out of me completely, causing me to reflexively wrap my legs around his waist. “What are you doing?”

His mouth landed on my neck, giving me a long, sucking kiss that had my hips surging upward. His touch made me deeply aware of the feverish emptiness inside of me. “Showing you who’s boss,” he whispered in my ear.

I turned my head and found his lips achingly close. Unable to resist, I landed my mouth on his, my tongue surging into his mouth, seeking his heat, seeking greater connection.

He froze momentarily, but electric bolts of victory and power surged through me as he slid his hand in my hair and devoured my mouth. His other hand moved to reposition himself inside me and soon he was coupling his ravenous kisses with the slapping pump of his hips, the bed rattling with force of his pounding thrusts. Far too soon, he ripped his mouth away again and buried it in my neck.

I wanted to complain but I was too busy screaming, every muscle in my body tensing as I was catapulted into the most intense pleasure of my life. My brain blacked out as I slowly swam in the buzzing euphoria pulsing through my system. He gave three more powerful thrusts, before slamming inside me so deep I felt a twinge deep inside.

“Jesus Christ, Willa, fuck,” he groaned, his forehead dropping to my shoulder.

We were both panting heavily, and our skin felt glued together, his heavy weight pressing down on me. I should be bothered by it, but I wasn’t. I loved the feel of him on top of me, surrounding me. He landed one more kiss on my neck and slowly slid out of me. I winced as the soreness started to set in.

“You okay?” He must have caught my fleeting expression. It warmed me that he was so attuned to my well-being.

“Yeah, just a little sore. You’re kind of huge.”

He shot me a cocky grin and got up to rid himself of the condom.

“That wasn’t meant as a compliment,” I said tartly.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, sliding back into bed and pulling me against him.

I poked him. “Guys can be too big, you know?”

“You seemed to handle it just fine.” He followed his statement with a sharp pinch to my bottom.

I flushed and grinned up at him. “Just fine” was about the biggest understatement of the century. My body still hummed with lingering waves of pleasure.

He grinned back down at me. “That’s what I thought.”

I stared at his mouth and was brought back to a thought I’d had during sex.

“Were you avoiding kissing me during sex?” I blurted out.

His eyebrows jumped, but the lips that had just been grinning, flattened into a grimace and his brow tightened. He had been avoiding it.

“Why?”

He sighed and stared up at the ceiling, discomfort rolling off him in waves. “Kissing is…”

“Lovely? Pleasurable?” I paused. “Intimate? Too intimate?”

“Something like that,” he muttered.

I sat up and stared down at him. “You think putting your tongue inside me is more intimate than putting your penis inside me?” I asked incredulously.

He shot me a look, a half grin playing on his mouth. “My penis?” I was happy to see him grinning again. It did magical things to his features, making him look less severe, less angry.

I slapped him on the shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

His smile fell off again. “Yes. Let’s just say I think it’s unnecessary for sex.”

“Why?”

He shrugged, obviously never having had this conversation before. At least, not with a sex partner. “You don’t need to kiss to have sex. My dick is a more mandatory participant.”

I stared at him in astonishment. As I thought about what he was saying, I realized he broke his rules for me. Multiple times. What did that mean? Impulsively, I swung my leg over his hip, straddling him. He stared up at me, surprise and heat leaping into those green eyes. I felt his dick start to harden between my legs, but I didn’t do this to have sex.

Before he could resist, I slammed my mouth down on his, thrusting my tongue inside to sweep to every corner of his mouth, using my teeth to lightly bite his lower lip before sliding back inside. Instead of pushing me away, as I feared, his hands grabbed my ass in his strong grip, grinding me down on his now fully erect cock, his mouth as engaged as mine.

Power and euphoria blasted through me at his enthusiastic response. However, all too soon, he was pushing me back, holding me away from him.

I moved to kiss him again, but his arms stiffened, holding me in place. I felt a little knife pierce my heart as he continued to resist. Was I like all the rest? Was I going to end up just another woman he’d anonymously fucked?

I frowned and opened my mouth to protest, but before I could speak, “Killian—” I started, but his hand moved over my mouth.

“Shh. No more words, Willa,” he said as he rolled me on my back and sank between my legs. He lavished kisses everywhere but the place I wanted them most. My thoughts were momentarily suspended as I gave in to the powerful, pleasure-giving delight of his tongue. Soon, I was once again mindless and on the edge of orgasm.

“You want to come, Willa?” he whispered from between my legs. I looked down at him and found his eyes practically glowing, giving him a demonic look.

“Yes,” I rasped, still anger and confusion still rioting just under the lust and desperation.

He grabbed my hips and rapidly flipped me over, bringing me to my knees. His hands still worked between my thighs, keeping me on edge.

He hastily donned a condom, positioned himself behind me, and punched forward. His hand anchored itself in my hair, holding me still for his pumping hips, as his other hand rubbed over the welt on my ass. There was something in that possessive gesture that calmed me, though I still craved his mouth.

The question was why?