Chapter 25
C h a p t e r T w e n t y - F i v e
K i a n G r i m m
I watch her stumble out the front door like an invisible force pushed her out.
It’s still early morning and the sky is a bruised black, the air chilling me to the bone. I should be at home in bed but something told me Sylvia wasn’t ok. When I had left she kept pacing her room, muttering to herself about her father but I could barely hear anything through the glass.
She doesn’t look back as she moves, stumbling across the sidewalk.
Her hands are clenched in fists and her shoulders cave inward, even from a distance I can tell she’s crying.
Her pale cheeks glisten with beautiful tears and her nose is a bright red.
Her sadness isn’t simple, it's the quiet kind that fractures you, leaving you hollow and careless.
Her cat follows a little ways behind her, not on his normal leash or in the carrier. His small frame moves silently as if he’s guarding her from something fragile but she doesn’t notice.
She doesn’t see anything around her.
Irritation and concern twist in my chest and possession has me following. I cut around the trees until I’m walking with her. She wipes at her face with the back of sleeve, sniffles and mutters something incoherent. She looks lost and unmoored, the sight unsettling me more.
“Little Swan?” I grab her shoulder, spinning her to me.
She startles, flinching from my touch and I grimace. For a second, I fear she may run but then her gaze finds mine and a look of relief settles in her. I step closer, close enough she can’t escape me unless she turns all the way around. Her breath fans my neck and I shiver.
Everything about her undoes me, turning me into this hopeless romantic waiting to fix all her tragedies.
“What are you doing out here?” I shrug off my coat and pull it around her, zipping it up so it doesn’t fall off.
I don’t soften my voice but I do allow her to feel. Her hands shake and her breathing comes out uneven, useful details that tell me how far gone she is.
Crying makes people sloppy and truthful so I take advantage of the situation. Her brows furrow and she looks at me with anger I’ve never seen before.
“Don’t look at me like that, like I’m the problem,” I say, voice low.
I step closer, wrapping my hand around her waist and pulling her into me. Her head rests against my chest and I breathe in the lavender scent of her hair, burying my cold nose into her scalp.
“Who upset you, Little Swan?” I ask, theories already forming in my head. “Was it your father?”
Her body stiffening is the exact reaction I wanted. It gives away every little thought in that brain of hers. I’ve never seen her so broken but I know what makes her crack, I know more about her than I should.
I exhale through my nose and lift her chin so she can look at me. She doesn’t utter a word and the red on her cheeks darkens from the cold. I don’t feel a slither of guilt or sympathy but the gnawing irritation in my gut pisses me off.
“You walked out here like you wanted to disappear. That tells me you don’t feel safe or worse you're being lied to.” Her eyes flicker and she hates that I can read her like an open book.
I lean closer, my lips hovering over hers.
“I don’t like people lying to you.” My tongue flicks out and lightly touches her lips, just a small taste has my cock twitching. “It puts ideas in your head that don’t belong there.”
She shivers and her hand grips my coat on her tight as if her restraint is falling away.
“If it unravels you it becomes my concern, Little Swan.” My voice is controlled as I stroke the soft skin of her cheek, wiping away the evidence of tears.
I look down at her cat that watches me from his position on the ground. He’s smart, protective, and I like that he keeps my lost swan safe when I can’t.
I look back at her, eyes cold. Her hopeful gaze meets mine and she looks at me like I’ll be her saving grace—I devour it. She’ll depend on me, she’ll choose me because when things go to shit I’ll be the one to save her—not pimble, not her father, me.
Kian-Motherfucking-Grimm will be the undoing of Sylvia Swan.
I brush my fingers across her skin, soft and impeccably perfect beneath my touch and luckily she has no fever. Her pale lips are chapped and another small hiccup leaves her throat.
The sky outside has paled and turned a deep grey, no sun coming out in the town of Grimmwood. A town of darkness and horrible weather.
She sits huddled in the corner of my room, confused and still shaken up.
Her body trembles as she curls in on herself, trying to take up less space in the world.
Her fingers have gone pale from gripping my coat so tight and I stand beside her, hand on her forehead checking for a fever that’s not there.
“Luckily you didn’t catch a cold,” I mumble as I drop my hand. I grab a glass of water and hold it up to her lips. I watch them tremble as they wrap around the top and the deep swallow of her throat as she gulps it down.
I pull the coat from her shoulders once she’s done and hang it off the side of my bed. Her body is languid in my grasp and I slowly lay her back in the chair.
Her fingers grip the edge of the chair as if the furniture itself is what's keeping her upright. Her lips part and she finally talks, her voice a raspy cry.
“My mother.” She pauses, her words scraping against her throat as they land in the room like something broken. She doesn’t look at me as she speaks, her gaze fixed on something behind me. “She didn’t die normally.”
My brows furrow and my chest tightens with fury. I despise the way she speaks; weak, breakable. Her tears are intolerable and I hate that she has to suffer.
“My father…he was a part of something that turned dark. They killed and raped her, left her for her family to discover. They took something from me that day.” She shakes her head, helplessly.
I listen, I don’t bother speaking because then I won’t know the truth. She exhales and I watch the effort it takes for her to assemble her next words. Someone has given her knowledge they didn’t care would burn her.
“My mother,” she whimpers. “was a good woman, Kian. Her death was buried in lies like her life didn’t matter in our town.”
I stand, not able to resist the temptation to touch her. I lower myself to her level, meeting those broken green eyes. She finally looks at me, eyes red rimmed and glossy. My fingers brush through her silk hair and I rub my thumb across her swollen cheeks.
“I don’t like hearing you sound fragile and I don’t like sharing the privilege of hurting you.” My eyes hold hers steadily, intently.
“But what do you benefit from helping me, what will you want from me?” she whispers.
I let silence stretch between us because truly I don't want anything.
She’s already mine.
“I get to create a better version of myself in your mind, a version you may accept.” I lean closer, my tongue darting out to lick my lips.
The intensity in my gaze has her cheeks reddening and the dress she wears rises up her thighs as she scoots backward. Her plum panties vanish underneath her leg as fast as I can breathe and my cock twitches with need.
My other hand wraps around her thin ankles, pulling her back to me.
I’ve waited long enough for a taste. I gave her a considerable amount of time to choose me.
Her eyes widen and before she can stop me I yank at the panties, ripping the seam and pulling them down her long legs.
Her dress bunches at her waist and I’m so glad she doesn’t have one of her corsets on.
“What are you—” She lets out a soft huff as her back hits the chair’s cushion, her legs above her head as I take in her pink center.
“Your cunt is the prettiest I’ve ever seen,” I mumble as I swirl my thumb over her swollen pink clit. Juices flow from her entrance and down her ass as if her body has waiting for this moment as much as I have been. “Let me take care of you, Little Swan, please.”
I’ve never begged in my life. I take, I earn, I wait things out until they bend toward me but having the smell of her this close to my nose—being this close to tasting her hot center, the words rot in my mouth, pride useless and childlike.
She hesitates, no words leaving her and her hands cover the beautifully impeccable sight of her cunt from my eyes.
“I’ve never done this before, Kian,” she admits, confusion and embarrassment drifting in her eyes.
I know I’ve almost helped her forget, I’m so close to replacing the knowledge she’s just learned with memories of me.
“This one time I'm begging you, Little Swan because if you say no I’ll take it anyway.” My cock twitches eagerly in my pants and I grab her hands, removing them from the picture.
She breathes out, not responding and I take it for what it is. My tongue flicks out, flattening against her glistening entrance as I lazily suck her clit into my mouth. Her back arches naturally and a soft trapped moan leaves her lips.
She tastes just as good as I imagined, maybe even better and I gorge on her cunt, enjoying the soft sounds leaving her throat.
“Let me hear you. Let me hear how badly you need this,” I grumble as I lap the bundle of nerves. My fingers push at her entrance and I stretch her walls anew as I pump in and out.
“Kian, I’m so hot.” She whispers between a moan.
“I know my little swan, I’ll fix it.” I bite her clit and receive a yelp in return.
Her hand finds my hair, yanking my head deeper into her.
This isn’t new to me but it sure does feel like it, each clench of her walls around my fingers has my cock seeping cum.
My other hand finds her breast beneath her dress and I tug on her nipple, pinching and rolling it between my thumb and forefinger.
“Wait!” She wails but her head falls back as I bite the skin on her thigh, leaving behind bruised marks.
My eyes stay on her reaction; each stroke has her crying out, every flick of my tongue makes her tremble more.
“So forbidden, so sensitive.” I groan and situate her cunt closer to my face.
Her back holds the weight of her legs as they dangle over my shoulders. Her other hand grips the cushion below her as if it's what's keeping her steady in my hold.
“Kian.” She whimpers and her walls clench around my fingers insanely tightly.
“This is all I ask for Little Swan, to taste this pretty little cunt everyday, to feel the heat of your body against mine,” I growl.
“Ok,” She whispers as her release ripples through her.
Mine.
Her answer is simple and doesn’t surprise me. I knew she’d break, I knew she’d come to me in the end because I’m who she needs, not who she wants.
The pressure of her orgasm mounts higher and higher as I take from her, lapping until her body stops trembling and her mouth falls into a soft smile.
A smile for me. The first I'd ever received from her. My inhibitions melt away and I sit her up, her thighs shaking.
“My little swan.” I whisper as I press my lips to hers.
Our tongues tangle together and hers bows in submission. The kiss is slow, hesitant on her part but just as good as the last. Her mouth still tastes of berries and mine tastes of her sweetness, combining to create something richly her.
A groan vibrates the space between us as I separate from her. If I keep going I won’t be able to stop and that's something she’s not ready for.
Her brows furrow, with anger, disbelief, shock, as she pulls away. One hand rests on my chest and she pulls her dress down with the other.
“I’ve got to go,” she mumbles, breathlessly. Her plump lips are swollen and red, my saliva coating them.
I step back, allowing her space. Her gaze drops in embarrassment as she hastily grabs my coat not realizing it’s mine. She tugs her boots on and her cat leaps onto her shoulders, burning its claws into the coat.
Her boots are loud on the marble flooring and I feel her anger from here but then she stops, like she’s walked into a cold current.
“What—what are these?” Her fingers hover over the photos on my desk and my heart skips a beat, remembering what those photos contain.
Her shoulders draw back and her spine tightens as she picks one up in her hand. Her mouth slowly opens in shock and a blush darkens her cheeks.
Her breasts in the photos are a soft, subtle pink and the dip in her waist makes my cock strain harder in my pants.
“You took these.” It’s not a question, it's a statement, one that makes me wish I hadn’t.
We were getting somewhere and I’ve fucked it up.
I don’t say anything, It’s not like she wouldn’t eventually know how far I had gone with my obsession—in wanting something so desperately I’d take it without asking. None of it sounds sane as I watch the tears in her eyes form.
She turns to me, angry, but underneath it something else flickers. A heat she clearly doesn’t want to be true, one that her body betrays her on presenting.
“What’s wrong with you?” she snaps, “You think you can just take photos of me like this?”
“They were only for my eyes, Little Swan, no one else's." I step towards her but she steps back as if I disgust her.
Her eyes drag over me, slow and accusing, as if she’s trying to decide if I'm pathetic or dangerous. She sets down the photo and looks through the other countless amounts of lewd pictures.
Her lifting the dress away, her lean body stretched and shapely.
Next is her swollen breast falling free of the bralette she wore, her pink nipples glinting in seduction.
The last is the worst, she is so close to the camera you can see the curve of her cunt and a birthmark that settles between her thighs.
Each one more revealing than the last.
“You’re insane,” she says, turning to the door. “Do not follow me.”
A low chuckle leaves my lips as I follow her, keeping distance between us. Her anger won’t last long, if anything those photos proved just how twisted we both are. I know her cunt is dripping at the thought of me taking them.
“Stop,” she snaps and walks faster.
“I just want to make sure you get home safe. It's dangerous for pretty girls like you.” I taunt.
She groans and I can imagine her eyes rolling to the back of her head with agitation. She continues to stomp across my yard until she reaches the cobblestone street, me in tow.