22. Isla #3
“I love you,” he proclaims again, the words a prayer against my lips as he positions himself at my entrance.
My heart pounds so hard I’m certain he can feel it against his chest. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing him to understand what I can’t say. “I know,” I breathe, my voice breaking. “I know you do.”
“Look at me, Isla,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I want to see your face when I’m inside you.”
I meet his intense gaze and all I want to do is cry.
He’s giving me everything—his heart, his body, his soul—and asking for nothing in return.
He pushes inside me slowly, inch by devastating inch, and the sensation is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
The cool metal of his piercings creates a unique friction against my walls, a rolling, textured pleasure that makes my toes curl.
Without the barrier of the condom, I can feel every ridge, every vein, every subtle movement of his cock inside me.
“Oh God,” I gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders. “Killian...”
“Fuck, Isla,” Killian groans, his forehead dropping to mine. “You feel so fucking good.”
I can only nod, words beyond me as he fills me completely. The intimacy of skin against skin, of feeling him so deeply, overwhelming my senses.
This isn’t just sex anymore.
This is something sacred.
When he’s fully seated inside me, we both still, our breathing ragged and synchronized. The connection is so intense it feels like we’re sharing the same heartbeat. I can feel him pulsing within me, his cock twitching as we breath and then he begins to move.
His hips roll against mine in a rhythm that feels like it was made just for us. Each thrust is deliberate, worshipful, his eyes never leaving mine.
“I can feel you,” I confirm, my voice breaking. “I can feel every part of you.”
I’m overwhelmed by the intimacy of it all. The way he watches me, the way his tongue traces patterns on my skin, the way he whispers my name like a prayer.
My hands slide up his back, feeling the muscles flex beneath his skin as he moves. I pull him closer, needing to feel all of him, needing to erase any space between us.
“Killian,” I gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders. “Please...”
“Please what, Coach?” he teases, his breath hot against my skin. “Tell me what you need.”
“I need...more. Harder. Please.”
He kisses the middle of my forehead. “As you wish.”
He obliges immediately, his thrusts becoming deeper, more forceful. The headboard begins to knock against the wall, creating a rhythm that matches the pounding of my heart. Each time he drives into me, I feel the cool metal of his piercings pressing against spots that make me see stars.
“You feel so fucking perfect,” Killian groans, his voice rough with need. “So tight. So warm. God, Isla...”
I can only moan in response, my body arching to meet his thrusts as a white-hot heat threatens to explode inside me.
“Killian,” I cry, my voice breaking as he shifts his angle, hitting a spot that makes my vision blur. “Oh, God! Don’t stop.”
“I won’t,” he promises, his breath hot against my ear. “I’ll never stop. You’re mine, Isla Fallon. I’ll give you this pleasure every single fucking day if it’s what you want. I’ll give you everything.”
The intensity builds with each thrust, and I know I won’t last much longer. “I’m going to come, Killian,” I pant. “Oh, fuck! I’m coming!”
“Look at me, Isla,” Killian commands, his voice rough with emotion. “I want to see you when you come.”
I force my eyes open, meeting his gaze. This isn’t just physical pleasure anymore. It’s something so much deeper, so much more meaningful.
“I love you,” he whispers, the words a prayer against my lips. “I love you so fucking much.”
The words push me over the edge and my orgasm crashes through me with devastating force, stealing my breath and making my body convulse around him. “Killian!”
“Fuck. Oh, fuck, Isla…” Killian’s rhythm falters, his own release following moments later as he buries himself deep inside me with a broken cry of my name.
For long moments, we stay locked together, our bodies trembling with aftershocks.
My arms wrap around him, holding him close as our breathing gradually slows.
His weight is warm and comforting against me, his skin slick with sweat.
I can feel him still inside me, his heartbeat pulsing against my most intimate places.
Killian shifts slightly, his hand coming up to cup my cheek, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. “You okay?”
I nod, not trusting my voice. My throat is tight with emotion, my eyes burning with unshed tears. This is real. This is happening. This man loves me, and I’m too terrified to love him back.
“Yeah,” I finally tell him. “I’m perfect.”
My words might not be an absolute truth, but Killian Haynes loves me, so the very least I can do is give him this night.
This intimate moment between us that meant more to me than he could ever know.
A moment to feel comforted by his love and peace in the safety of his arms.
It’s the least I can do.
For now.