58
My brain short circuits. Soft, languid lashes flick along my slit.
Soft, desperate moans leave my trembling lips.
My eyes snap open. Kieran's hulking form looms at the foot of the bed, his cock straining against his jeans, his face buried between my spread thighs.
His eyes are hazed and drunk. He wears that charismatic smirk that is my undoing.
My beast. His eyes stay trained on me. Dark and dangerous.
His tongue slowly works my pulsing clit, teasing me the way only he can.
“Kieran,” a choked whisper leaves my throat.
I wiggle my ass, needing to escape his devilishly tantalizing touch.
If this is his form of an apology, I accept!
He growls like an untamed beast, applying pressure to my stomach forcing me to remain trapped within the confines of the bed.
“Fuckkkk, I wanna fuck your cunt so bad.”
His callous hands wrap around my thighs before moving to cup my asscheeks.
Like a starved man he laps along my pussy, getting every nook and cranny.
Lightning jolts through my system. I'm saturated.
My fluids stretch along his tongue from my sex.
My head swims violently. Stars paint my vision.
I want release. The need to come overrides anything else.
“Don't stop.” I shudder. I reach for his curls, fisting them.
“Harder.” He purrs against my cunt with a ferocity.
His frayed edges start to unravel. He feasts as if this is the last time he will taste me, lingering on my pulsing mound.
Farther, I creep toward the edge ready to unleash.
My hips lift involuntarily, suffocating him with my arousal.
Then I lose it, exploding in a haze of ecstasy.
He transports me to another world. Wave after wave of pleasure pulses through my body from my head to my toes.
He chuckles darkly. “You're intoxicating.” He licks up my pubic bone in a display of ownership.
He crawls up my limp body, nipping at my skin, letting his teeth trail up my limbs. His inked hand wraps around my throat, but he doesn't squeeze. His lips brush mine. “The sweetest Goddamn high.”
I hum. “Where are we?” I ask in a post-orgasm haze.
I slip my fingers through his soft curls.
He groans against my lips. “Grey’s.” Clarity slowly returns, and all the realities of the danger we find ourselves in settle in the pit of my stomach.
I untangle myself to search his eyes for truth.
He wouldn't bring me here without reason.
I figure pressing my luck isn't the best course of action.
“You know, I really did think I got into Grimshaw on my own,” I murmur, still stroking his hair. Changing the subject makes it feel less real. I can, for the moment, escape reality and pretend he actually loves me.
He bristles. Those beastly eyes fall to me, drawing me closer.
“Doesn't matter. You're smart as fuck. Fuck that place.”
He crawls forward and nips along my collarbone.
His skin against mine is intimate. I crave it.
He's a distraction I really want to welcome, but just .
. . cant. I jolt upward. Kieran does, too.
“How can you say that? Of course it matters. I told you how I've had to fight like hell to give myself a better life. I thought I had finally done it on my own. I had made something of myself. Do you have any idea how big of a blow this is? For once I'm fucking scared,” I admit, wincing.
He sighs, drawing back on his knees. His hands fly forward.
“Nah, I don't. What the hell do you want me to say? We struggle differently. I fucking get that, but you gotta know your worth. You're not stupid. You would have had this shit in the bag without Mortensen in the mix. Can we not do this shit right now?”
I take a deep breath and remind myself, Kieran is fucked up too, this is new territory for him. All I want him to do is ease the ache, but his emotional skills need work. He still struggles offering me parts of him he doesn't show. I nod. “Yeah, I suppose so.”
The reluctance in his eyes tells me something is going on much deeper than he's willing to let on.
Pushing him would be senseless. Kieran can't be cornered or coerced into opening up, it'll only further strain him.
Strain us. He has enough on his plate; I don't want to add to it.
Mortensen has been living rent free in his head for far too long, it's time he frees himself of him.
I know him and I were never meant to last forever, but for now I can pretend and help him as much as I can.
He slides off the bed. “I'm taking you to class soon. Get ready,” he replies coldly.
I struggle with the urge to not spill the tears making a home along my eyelids.
Patience, Clara, patience. His mood swings give me whiplash.
Just fifteen minutes ago he feasted upon me, leaving his chaotic, addicting mark on my heart.
We drive to Grimshaw in silence. I hate it.
I'm not at all sure what to expect. Kieran has been on edge the entire drive, his jaw set into a tight line.
His deadly eyes turn clouded. It's plausible he is about to go on a rampage.
I wouldn't put it past him to go insane and shoot up the entire school just to break the chains.
His way of handling shit is identical to Zain.
He eats, sleeps, and breathes violence. His reckless behavior is something he will never shake, it’s who he is.
Fear rises, making my heart race, but not for what Kieran will do, but for how our ending will play out.
Whatever plan he's concocting, I worry he won't come back to me and not by his own volition.
An anxiety attack is on the rise, making my skin burn.
I do my best to keep my emotions tampered, hiding who I am, what I am. Despite his distance, he is receptive.
“Breath, Nightshade.” He breaks the silence. His eyes stay glued to the road. His body is still rigid. I envy the way he can handle the unparamounted stress. I grip the edge of the seat. “I'll never let anyone hurt you again.”
I want to believe him. I hate how my body betrays me. I refuse to let him know my brain is blighted. Would he still want me?
“Don't hide from me.” His eyes scan over my body, picking up on every cue. I still don't respond. His hand drifts away from the steering wheel landing on my bare thigh. “Feel my touch. Count.”
“Wh—”
“Count,” he interrupts me with his sharp tongue.
I swallow. His hands trace soothing circles along my raised flesh. “One.”
Sweat breaks out over my brow. I'm on the verge of hyperventilating. I slam my eyes shut. I can't do this. He can't see me this way.
“Two.”
“Open your eyes,” he demands.
I do. “See the red lining on the seats?” he asks, his eyes still on the road.
I scrunch my nose. “What?”
“The fucking seats, Clara. Do you see the fucking color red?” His words aren't unkind, but more meant to distract.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Good. Eyes on that. Don't stop counting.” His hand grips tighter on the steering wheel. His soothing circles now turn into sensual, caressing touches. Such a strange gesture for someone like Kieran. I let my eyes drag to the crimson fabric along the seam of the seats as he requested.
“Three.” My breathing evens out. “Four.” My heart steadies in my chest to a slow, dull thrum. “Five . . .” My chest feels lighter, as if it's no longer weighed down by an anchor.
His skin on mine tethers us together, our souls entwined.
“You good?” His brow raises. I nod. His hand stops, the connection instantly being severed. It leaves a hole in my chest. He pulls up to Grimshaw, he cuts the engine and turns to me. “You trust me?”
All I want is to have him fill in that void inside of my chest. My heart belongs to him. Nothing will ever satiate the ache. His cruelty is what I need to feel human. I hear him in my thoughts. I feel him in my bones. I'll trust him until my dying breath. I'm helpless against him.
“Yes,” I whisper.
I've always been an impulsive fuck up. It's my MO.
Destroy anything in my path, take what I want, lie, deceive.
So it shouldn't feel any different to lie to her again, to use her again, but it does.
As promised, we stroll into Grimshaw with our heads held high.
I refuse to let anyone believe she is anything other than mine, because she fucking is.
I slam the door to Zain’s Lincoln. Endless stares from the Elites drill into us as I wrap my hand around hers—a clear display of ownership.
I will continue to arrogate her. The shocked expressions are enough, though.
I've never had a girl to show off. Not a single damn time.
They can make their own assumptions. They can presume she's another toy, the only difference is I'm going public with my claim.
It will ensure her safety. Her hand tightens its grip on mine.
She's nervous or on the verge of another one of those anxiety attacks.
I hate that she deals with that shit. I figured it out back when she fled from class weeks ago.
When she opened the door to her life story I did some research on what the hell she was dealing with.
Not sure why I gave a fuck at all, but it paid off.
Turns out anxiety, depression and panic attacks are all common with the trauma she's dealt with.
My issues have their own set of problems.
I guess I just got the short end of the stick with anger issues instead.
Ying to my fucking yang I guess. I drag her along through the courtyard.
I know she's still sore, but she can't appear weak. The Elites will eat her alive.
“Are you sure you want to walk me to every single class?”
she mutters. I scoff. As if I have a choice.
No one but me can protect her. I'm all she's got.
“You'd rather someone else?” I snap. No idea why I do.
Does the idea of me disgust her? Would she rather have Val or Silas? That sure as shit isn't happening.
Pretty sure I made my intentions clear after I fucked her in the Void? After I sterilized her? After I fucked her pretty mouth? If this isn't enough for her, I have no qualms with fucking her on the table of the Ops building.
When I don't respond she slams her heels down, stomping like a petulant child. “Kieran, just wait a sec—”
“No. What Goddamn part of me not changing my mind are you not getting? I have a plan. You need my protection even if you hate that you want me.” That shuts her up. She goes to open her pretty little mouth but thinks better of it. I smirk. We weave through the hallways. Heads turn and gawk.