25. 25
Harlow
Killian’s warm hand smears the slick lube between my legs.
“I’m gonna get you off, too. It’s only fair.”
I blink and nod fast.
That is true. I’m doing it for him, he can do it for me. Yes.
I nod again for some reason, fast and dumb.
Two fingers slide into my entrance, and his thumb presses against my clit, doing steady circles.
“Hold it for me, Harlow. Right here.”
I do as he says, clutching the tube above my hips. He thrusts into the tube, forcing it down his shaft through my clenched hands.
I hate it.
Even with his fingers inside of me, I ache for the real thing.
“Good, Harlow. Just like that.”
I hate that, too.
“Call me baby,” I say, my tone more demanding than intended.
His crooked smile flashes.
“It’ll help me get off,” I explain, trying to sound as cool about this as he is.
“Okay, baby.”
I lay my head back and freaking melt. He fucks the toy through my hands, his thighs brushing mine with every slow thrust. His body heat warms my skin. He’s so damn close.
Suddenly, his fingers pull out.
I lift my head.
His fingertip slides lower, pressing against my asshole.
“Uh! No, Killian!”
“Shh,” he says, calm and smooth.
He massages the tight muscle while his thumb swirls around my clit.
“It’ll help me get off,” he says, mimicking my words.
“That’s not funny,” I whisper. “I’ve never done that.”
Something flickers in his eyes that I don’t recognize.
“It’s okay, baby. Don’t be scared. I’ll be gentle.”
I never thought I’d let someone touch me there, but when it comes to Killian, I am so weak.
My eyes close. Slowly, He circles the tight muscle before easing his fingertip inside. He doesn’t shove. He takes his time working me open around him. He leans forward, and as he thrusts into the toy, he presses his finger a little deeper.
“That’s it, baby. See? Your body knows it’s me.”
I whimper softly.
Just then, his finger sinks past the last knuckle. Then he fucks my ass and the toy in the same slow rhythm.
“I bet you want my whole cock in this tight ass.”
My eyes shoot open, but he continues pumping.
The pleasure builds because it does feel good.
It demands my attention to remain in my body, not drift into the worries of my mind.
My breaths become shallow as I let myself sink into this moment.
His hard body this close. His cock is literally in my hands, yet I can’t feel the veins, the firmness, or the warmth.
It’s all blocked by this damn tube. It’s maddening.
He lowers himself, one hand supporting his weight on the mattress as the other fucks my ass.
The second his cologne fills my nose, and the heat of his breath skims my neck, I’m done for. I slide off the toy, grip his shaft, and shove his tip against my entrance. He doesn’t wait, and my eyes roll back as he feeds into me, stretching my throbbing pussy.
“Uhhh,” I moan, the sense of relief powerful and magnificent.
He exhales a husky breath, equally pleased. “Sounds like you missed my cock, baby.”
“Yes!” I reply shamelessly. “Hell, yes I did.”
He nips at my earlobe. “I missed you taking me. Your little body tries so hard.”
“Mmm, Kill,” I moan louder.
My hips writhe as his words spread through my body.
The dual stimulation of his finger and shaft sends me into a state of delirium.
I say his name uncontrollably, non-stop until I’m mouthing no words at all.
My euphoria builds and builds. I dig my nails into his shoulders and rake them down his back, then stop and pinch in hard.
My body freezes as I break underneath this incredibly toxic man.
His cock continues its assault, hitting my g-spot over and over. I orgasm again.
Damn, he’s so good.
Again.
“Oh! Kill— Killian,” I cry. “Stop. I can’t—”
He doesn’t.
He pumps harder, faster, until he comes undone, too. The groan that erupts from his throat is such a visceral and glorious sound. His heavy, sweaty body falls onto mine, and I absolutely love it.
I kiss his salty neck. His shoulder. His beautifully imperfect face.
He catches his breath while I hold him, stroking his long back.
It seems too quick before he lifts himself off of me. Instantly, I want him back. My fears return, and I feel us teetering into the friends-zone.
That fast.
I sit up and hug my knees.
He walks to the shower and I ogle him quietly, memorizing the cut lines of his hard ass and those defined ridges of his back muscles. I want to follow him into the water. I want us to wash each other, yet, I hold myself back. I’m unsure why. Something keeps me frozen in place until he’s finished.
Only then, do I take a shower by myself. When I get out, the bedroom is clean. New sheets, toy gone, nothing. As if this multiple orgasm, mind-blowing experience never happened.
I find Killian in the living room, texting on his phone again.
“Hi,” I say meekly and sit down.
He looks at me from under his brow, as if he’s waiting for me to say something.
“Did you have a good shower?” I ask.
Why that question, Harlow? I am so dumb at this.
“Yeah,” he replies.
I fidget.
Okay. He was definitely just horny. He isn’t helping me out here. Come on, Killian. Talk about it. He doesn’t have to say date, but after what we just did, it’s the perfect time—
“You don’t fake orgasms, do you?” he asks.
“What?” I gasp. “No!”
“I didn’t think so. If you wanna fool around — whenever — we can.”
There it is. It was a hookup.
“Thanks,” I reply effortlessly, but inside, I’m breaking apart.
He says nothing else the whole freaking night.
Yep, it’s done. It’s over. Back to the weirdness post-sex. Back to him being quiet and distant. I don’t understand why. Killian isn’t shy. If he wanted more, he certainly isn’t flirting like he normally would.
Ugh.
The following weeks are the same. Another month passes and July arrives. It has been two months since Killian and I first slept together.
“Why are you more tired lately?” I ask.
His eyebrows lift. “I have a job.”
“You do? When did you get a job?”
“A couple of months ago.”
“Oh.” I’m stunned. He didn’t tell me. “What do you do?”
“I teach people to dance.”
“Dance. Really? Oh, wow. Why did you get a job?” I press.
“Felt like it,” he answers dismissively.
“Can I come see you?”
That makes him pause, and his eyes brighten. “I’d love that.”
“Okay. Friday at my lunchtime work?”
He nods, but the moment of excitement fades, and he talks about other stuff.
I sit back, wondering if I am not supposed to ask certain questions anymore.
He doesn’t seem upset, nor interested in opening up more about something important like work.
Heck, he didn’t tell me he had a job for the last two months!
He’s totally fine about everything.
Meanwhile, I’m the mess.
Because I’ve fallen for Killian.
Toxicity and all.
Time isn’t changing my feelings. There are so many moments I have to stop myself from touching him.
When he sleeps on the sofa, I want to pet him again.
I even get closer, hoping he’ll rest his head on my lap.
Sometimes I watch him, wishing he were holding me.
I linger in his eyes whenever he smiles, praying he’ll see how much I want more.
I hate when he dresses nicely or puts on cologne.
It makes me wonder what girls he saw that day.
After all, his texting addiction is worsening.
It must be a woman. He’s simply being kind by not bringing her up.
I don’t ask, though. He never asks me about guys. Not anymore. And that part... it hurts the most.
I love him.
There’s no question about it.
I’m in love with my patient, and it’s all my fault.