“Yes! Yes, I’m happy, Killian!”
He groaned, satisfied. “Are you good for me, baby?”
I nodded desperately.
He pinched my nipples hard from behind, making me cry out.
“Yes! I’m good for you, Killian!”
“Good,” he muttered, and then with one more hard thrust, he stilled inside me. But while I was still trying to process that, he pulled out, grabbed my face roughly but carefully, turned me around, and kissed me, deep, messy, his tongue claiming mine again like he was sealing something permanent.
While we were still kissing, his hand slipped back between my legs, dipping into the wet mess he had created inside me, then he pulled his fingers out and brought them to my lips.
“Lick.”
I obeyed, my lips wrapping around his fingers, tasting us both, still trembling.
“How do we taste?” he asked.
“Sweet,” I whispered, barely able to form the word.
He shook his head. “Not only sweet baby. Addictive. Okay?”
I nodded, tears gathering in my eyes, my whole body trembling.
He let go of my face, kissed my forehead, and climbed off the bed like he hadn’t just ruined me completely. He headed into the bathroom while I stayed there, lying flat, legs still spread, heart still racing, body spent and ruined and weak on the bed.
KILLIAN’S POV
I slammed the bathroom door behind me, too pissed off to even pretend to be calm. My jaw was tight, my chest heaving. I couldn’t believe Liana. After everything I’ve done for her, she still kept throwing Cynthia in my face like I hadn’t made it crystal clear that Cynthia meant nothing to me. Like I hadn’t ruined every tie, every connection, just to have her.
It was as if she wanted to hurt me on purpose. Like she was so fucking scared of accepting that someone could actually love her this much, she had to push me away at every chance she got. And maybe I deserved the way she looked at me sometimes, but fuck, didn’t she see it? Didn’t she feel it? I chose her. I will always choose her.
I turned the tap on and splashed some water over my face, breathing hard, trying to cool down, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Her voice. Her tears. Her moans. That look in her eyes when I pushed her too far, the way her body gave in even when her mouth fought me. She didn’t mean what she said. She couldn’t have. The way she broke, the way she clung to me, it wasn’t fake. It couldn’t be.
I looked down.
My cock was hard again. Stiff. Angry. Still aching.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.
I didn’t want to go back to her room and take her like that again. Not when she was still trying to figure shit out in her head. Not when I knew she was already overwhelmed. I didn’t want to be that guy.
But I was still so fucking hard it hurt.
I shut the small bathroom door and grabbed myself, stroking with the kind of frustrated pressure that should’ve been enough. But it wasn’t. It never fucking was. Not when it came to her. It felt like cheating myself, like punishing my body with something fake while all it wanted, what I wanted, was her. Only her. And she didn’t even realize it.
When it didn’t work, I cursed again, turned the knob to freezing, and forced myself under the cold water. My teeth gritted while the icy water ran down my back, my muscles tensing as I tried to kill the heat inside me.
Eventually, my body calmed. My cock softened. My head felt a little clearer.
I grabbed a towel, wrapped it around my waist, and stepped back into the room.
She was still there.
Curled up in a corner of her small bed, turned away from me. Her knees were tucked in like she was trying to disappear. She didn’t even look up when I walked out.
My heart twisted.
I wanted to yell at her. Shake her. Pull her against me and make her feel everything I was feeling. But I didn’t.
I just walked to my pile of clothes, started getting dressed slowly. Every now and then, I caught myself glancing at her, wondering what the fuck was going through her head. Wondering if she knew what she was doing to me.
When I was done, I walked over to her.
She didn’t budge.”Come on,” I said quietly. “You need to wash up.”
She still didn’t move.
I sighed, bent down, and tried to lift her.
“Leave me, you pervert!” she snapped, slapping at my arms, but her slap was weak. Barely a tap.
“You’re sticky and covered in sweat. I’m not leaving you like this. You’ll feel worse,” I said, lifting her up in one clean move despite her protests.
She struggled a bit, but it wasn’t real. Not really. Her fists weren’t even clenched properly. She didn’t scream. She didn’t even kick.
I walked her straight to the bathroom and gently set her down inside the tub.
“Wash up,” I told her, my voice firm. “Or I swear I’ll help you do it.”
She turned her head away.
I stared for one second too long. Her legs were parted just slightly, her skin glistening where I’d sucked on earlier. My eyes dropped, just for a moment, to that small seductive thigh that still had my fingerprints on it.
“Fuck,” I muttered, clearing my throat roughly and spinning away like it burned.
I stepped out, shut the door, and leaned my back against it for a second, breathing hard.
God, I loved her. I loved her so fucking much it was killing me.
She didn’t even know. She didn’t fucking know what it was doing to me that she kept rejecting me, kept acting like I was temporary. Like I hadn’t torn my whole damn life apart just to be with her.
I pushed off the door and walked out of her room, silently praying to every fucking moon in the sky that I wouldn’t walk back in there and do something I’d regret just to feel her again.
I found myself walking slowly toward Ryan’s little room. I stood outside his door for a moment and knocked gently.
“Who’s there?” his small voice came, so sweet and innocent it made something in my chest twist hard.
I cleared my throat and said, “It’s me,” before pushing the door open slowly.
Ryan was seated on the floor, legs crossed, completely lost in his own world as he played with that superhero toy I got him earlier. He didn’t even look up.
“Hey, buddy,” I called out softly.
“Daddy,” he answered with a little smile, still focused on the toy, making little fighting noises and sound effects with his mouth like he always did when he was imagining a full-blown battle scene.
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