He didn’t wait for permission.
The shirt was unbuttoned. One slow snap at a time. Breeze rushed to my bare chest just as his hand returned to my breast, kneading it, rolling my nipple between his fingers until it ached. His teeth grazed my shoulder as he positioned himself behind me. One leg pushed between mine, spreading me open like I was his to devour.
And then, he thrust into me. It was brutal. It was complete.
A choked scream escaped me. My hands clawed at the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto as his cock split me open, thick, hard, unreleting. He groaned low in my ear while dragging out slowly, then slamming back in with enough force to make the headboard bang the wall.
“Fuck, Lia,” he growled. “You’re so goddamn tight. You missed this. I know you did.”
My eyes burned. My jaw clenched. But my body trembled, needy, desperate, and shamefully eager. He rammed into me again while his hand came around to rub my clit with brutal speed, making my thighs quake.
“You want me to stop?” he hissed, thrusting so deep I thought I’d break. “Say the word. I fucking dare you.”
I said nothing. Because I didn’t want him to stop.
“That’s what I thought,” he snarled.
His other hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back so he could bite down on my throat, marking me like an animal claiming what was his. The sounds filling the room were sinful.
He fucked me harder. Faster. His hips slammed into me like he was trying to bury every ounce of anger, every ounce of hate, deep inside my womb.
“You’re mine,” he growled. “Say it.”
“No,” I whispered.
He rammed into me so hard the bed frame cracked.
“Say. It.”
“I FUCKING hate you.” 1
He dragged me up against his chest, still inside me, and bit the side of my neck until I cried out.
“Then hate me while I fuck the truth out of you.” shoving back into me without pause.
He pushed me flat, flipping me like I was weightless. Then yanked my legs wide
My nails raked down his back. He pinned my wrists above my head and pounded into me harder. His cock hit that spot again and again until my entire body trembled. My eyes rolled back. My screams were ragged.
“I’m gonna fill you up,” he growled. “You’re gonna drip with me. You hear that?”
I came.
Hard.
The orgasm crashed through every bone in my body. I cried loudly. My legs kicked. My back arched. I was gone.
And still, he didn’t stop.
He fucked me through it. Through the aftershocks. His fingers dug into my thighs, spreading me wider, forcing me to take it, to take all of him.
He spit in his hand and rubbed my clit again, making me scream. I twisted, cried, pleaded, but he was relentless. My body exploded again. a second orgasm tore through me.
He slammed in deeper, growling, “This pussy is mine. Every fucking inch.”
“Killian please….” I gasped.
“Please what? You want more? You want me to break you?”
I couldn’t answer. My throat was raw. My body was boneless.
He pulled out, dragged me to the edge of the bed, flipped me on all fours, and rammed back in with a feral snarl. He fisted my hair and fucked me like he hated me. Like he worshipped me. Like I was the only thing keeping him alive.
His cock was pulsing. He was close.
“Every part of you belongs to me. ME.” He growled and slammed in one last time, hard. Deep. His entire body went rigid as he emptied inside me.
We collapsed.
His weight was suffocating but I didn’t move. His arms caged me in. His cock stayed inside me. Twitching.
“You’re never leaving me,” he breathed into my neck. “I’ll fucking chain you here if I have to.”
LIANA’S POV
The morning after was never supposed to feel this awful. Not like this. Not with the shame and disgust wrapping around my body, as if it were choking me slowly, making it hard for me to breathe.
I blinked up at the ceiling and for a second, I let myself pretend I wasn’t in his bed. Pretend that last night hadn’t happened.
But the ache between my legs told me otherwise. The scent of raw sex on the sheets was still strong. Way too strong.
God. What did I do?
My phone dinged from somewhere on the nightstand. I reached for it with trembling hands, hoping, praying, it was just some spam text I could delete and forget.
It wasn’t.
Simon: Morning, baby. Surprise! I’m in your city today. Can’t wait to finally see you in person. Pick me up?
I stared at the message like it would magically change if I blinked enough. But it didn’t. It just sat there on the screen, taunting me. Mocking me.
Simon. My boyfriend. The man I’d been dating online for the past two months. The sweet guy who sent good morning texts and asked about Ryan like he already cared. The one who talked about flying down to meet me. The one I’d promised myself
I wouldn’t disappoint.
And yet here I was… naked under Killian’s shirt… used, ruined, and hollow all over again.
“Shit,” I whispered, sitting up slowly, trying not to stir the man beside me. My body ached in places I didn’t want to think about. I wrapped the blanket around myself, as if that could hide the damage. as if it could make any of this better.
I was almost off the bed when I felt it-a strong arm pulling me back in like a chain wrapped around my waist.
“Where are you going?” Killian’s voice was deep and rough, still thick with sleep.
I froze. Every part of me went still, as if maybe if I didn’t move, he’d let go.
He pressed his face into my shoulder. “Who’s Simon?”
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