25. Maeve
MAEVE
“But first,” he drawls, sliding my knife from my hip. He holds it between us, blade against the sheer fabric of my shirt. “I want to see all of you.”
The edge cuts cleanly, leaving a gaping hole in my pale skin underneath. Confidently, Killian slides his hand over my stomach, over the ridged scars, before pinching one nipple. Gasping, my back arches, and he grins.
“Fucking perfect.”
Leaning close, he inhales as I exhale. He takes my breath, infuses him, until we’re connected on a deeper level. “Tell me again.”
I look up at him. “What?”
“Tell me he hasn’t touched you.” His fingers draw over my arms, slipping the shirt away. He slides my knife between the bridge of my bra, snapping it with a quick flick.
My breasts fall, heavy and aching, as his tongue tastes one nipple before moving to the next. My legs shift, damp and needy.
“He never touched me.”
He plays with a nipple, thumb brushing over the sensitive bud. Sparks dance across my skin, a tiny prickle of pleasure and pain.
“You’ve been with him for months, Princess.” Black eyes stare at me, daring me to lie. “Are you telling me, all this time, I’m the last to have you?”
Swallowing a breath, I nod wordlessly.
Grinning, he crushes me to the wall, blade against my thigh.
“I always knew you were made for me,” he muses. “Every wretched part of you belongs to fucking me.”
I can only nod. Try as I might, as angry as I am, my body only works under his touch. My mind clears with his words. My heart only beats for him.
The knife slips under my skirt, sawing away at the fabric. I gasp, glaring at him.
The bastard winks. “Don’t worry. I’ll use it on you next.”
I grow uncomfortably wet. Hell.
Once the skirt is fully cut, he slides it out from me, keeping his body over mine. Without warning, he strips off his shirt, the gold pendant swinging in the dim light.
“Now,” he says, voice dark. “Tell me again, Princess. Tell me to get on my knees and eat your pussy until you can’t fucking stand straight. I’m begging you.”
Laughing, I run a hand over his chest, over his piercings, and clutch the back of his head. “You’re begging me now?”
“I would beg to taste you on my hands and knees,” he replies easily. “I would plead my life to you for one fucking taste.” Leaning close, his lips brush mine. “Please. Please let me taste you.”
How can I say no to that?
Tugging him down, it doesn’t take much for Killian to kneel. Running his hands over my leg, he places open-mouth kisses against any piece of skin he can touch. Taking one leg, he throws my knee over his shoulder, and he breathes at the apex of my thighs.
Cheeks red, I adjust to the angle.
He savors me, tongue running over my panties. A fucking tease, his teeth nip and dare, but don’t touch me. Frustrated, a little whimper leaves my lips, and he chuckles.
“So impatient.”
Flipping the knife between his fingers, he reopens the scar on my leg, redrawing the K in his initials. The bright red blooms like a wild peony, and his tongue laps at the blood.
My body ignites, the spike of pain doused by the intense pleasure. His tongue, his touch, all of it set my nerves on fire and my pussy flutters. I forgot how much I missed this—him—and the way he savors me. He could have me for the rest of his life, and he’ll still never tire of it.
Opening his mouth, he shows me the blood on his lips before he winks. I gulp, throat dry.
“Hold on to me, Princess,” he warns, before he slides my panties to the side and dives in.
The moment his tongue meets my flesh, I’m lost. The dullness of the room brightens, color floods my vision, and I groan, completely swept away by the Reaper in front of me.
He doesn’t take it easy on me. He moans as my taste floods his mouth, pulling my hips up. His tongue spears inside of me, lapping at every available spot. Nibbling on my folds, I buck, chasing his tongue.
He flicks his tongue against my clit, and I throw my head back, an orgasm crashing over me with such intensity, I lose the ability to hear. Or maybe that’s because I yell so loudly that the room shakes.
Laughing, he continues to play until the orgasm stops, but he doesn’t release me. I pant, body on fire and tight with need. Holy fuck. I forgot how much I enjoyed that.
Looking up, kneeling before me, the Reaper is a dark god praying before me. His chin, stained red, glistens as his fingers massage my thighs, and he places chaste kisses on my knees.
“Tell me,” he murmurs quietly. “Tell me, Princess.”
“I already told you?—”
“Tell me you love me.”
Releasing a stuttering breath, he places my legs down before lifting me into his arms. With one hand, he drops his jeans, cock bobbing angrily between us.
“Say it.” He moves me, teasing my slit, and I moan.
“Killian—”
“No,” he demands. Resting his forehead against mine, he presses the tip of his cock inside me, and my vision fucking blackens as my body tenses at the intrusion. “You love me. You do. Fucking say it.”
Breathing heavily, I hold his chin, forcing our eyes to lock. “And if you leave again?”
“I won’t.”
“You can’t promise that.” My heart constricts, completely at odds with how badly I want him fully inside me. I’d make a small sacrifice for it.
“I belong to you,” he whispers, slowly inching. It’s a delicious burn as I stretch and my mouth falls open. “Carve your name into my chest, Maeve. Put your mark on me. You’re the only one I bleed for. The only one who can command me. The only one who fucking owns me.”
He slams into me, pinning me to the wood. Fucking Christ, he feels good—too good. I can’t breathe, can’t think.
This is what being with Killian Linwood was always like—so much pain, so much pleasure, that the ghosts could never intrude.
Handing me my knife, its edge tinted red, he holds still.
“You don’t mean that,” I gasp, feeling every inch of him. His cock, the way his abs contract against my soft stomach. His arms—hard and lean—cocoon around me, my personal shield.
“I do.” Holding my stare, he pulls away, excruciatingly slowly.
“And if you leave again?”
Tightening his hand around mine, he holds it to his throat.
“Then kill me,” he instructs. “I’d rather be dead than ever be without you again, Princess.”
Drawing my hand to his chest, he directs me to his left pectoral. With his pressure, I do as he says, carving my initials into his skin: MGO. Forever etched, he truly belongs to me now.
He picks up his pace, holding me against the wall, fucking me mercilessly. Bodies slick with sweat, I’m smeared with his blood, and charcoal covers my hips. He licks my neck, and I twist his rings, tugging them with each thrust.
I don’t last long. He feels perfect—a part of me returning home. Head dropping back, I close my eyes as the orgasm crashes over me.
Gripping my neck, Killian forces me to look at him. “No. Don’t hide. I get to see this—I get to see you coming on my cock. I’ve earned this.”
I shatter, falling apart as he pounds into me. As my orgasm dissipates, he growls into my neck, finishing inside me with one brutal thrust.
Breathing into his neck, I gulp down air, body warm and full. This feels right, having the most dangerous man bowing for me.
“What does this mean?” he asks, bodies intertwined.
“This means,” I begin, drawing my fingers over his shoulders. “That you belong to me, Pup. And I belong to you.”
Surging forward, he captures my lips, cradling my head as if something precious. His tongue sweeps along mine, tasting of blood and my essence. Sinking against him, I let his touch burn through me, erasing all traces of doubt or fear.
I will not hide from this.
Yanking him back, I stare into his eyes as I say, “If you leave me again, I will fucking kill you.”
He smiles, lips swollen. “Good. Because only death could keep me from you.”