by West, Harper
In some small way, I was a bit relieved, because it meant that I trusted him. Usually angry men could be terrifying, but I knew that Killian wasn't going to lash out with anything more than words, and he wouldn't hurt me.
He could be rough in the bedroom, but he was never violent outside of it.
I trusted him, and that was interesting to realize, especially when he was glaring at me and closing in, backing me against the large window that looked out from his penthouse over the city below.
It was a good thing I wasn't afraid of heights.
"Say that again," he said, voice low and almost menacing. "I fucking dare you."
My attention snapped back to the argument we were having. It seemed like all we did was argue these days, and I sighed, reaching up to push hair out of my face. I didn't want to look away from him for a second.
He was like a predator, closing in for the kill, and I wanted to offer him my neck.
But I kept myself centered and grounded, not backing down or giving in.
"I said you're a coward," I repeated, tone even. "You want something, and you're too afraid to ask for it, so you're running around trying to make rules and exceptions and whatever the hell else instead of just using your words like a big boy."
"I already told you how I feel," he snapped at me, hands curled loosely into fists. "I told you I don't want you to see him. I told you I wanted to close this off."
"Yeah, you did. And you said it in the most sanctimonious, 'I make the rules here' way possible. You didn't tell me why."
And I knew I had him with that. Killian was terrible at talking about his feelings unless there was sex involved, and it was an easy out for me.
Because if he never said how he felt, then I didn't have to confront how I felt, and I didn't have to admit that I'd come to like him and the things he did to me more than I ever thought I would.
It was terrifying, in a way. I felt like I had lost a part of myself or become someone I didn't recognize. The old me would have been so happy for someone like Simon.
Someone normal with similar interests. Someone who didn't act like the world owed him something when he went through life.
But the person I was now couldn't be excited by that, apparently. The person I was now was getting turned on by being backed against a window by an angry man, which was all kinds of messed up.
"Because you're mine," Killian snapped finally, voice strained.
I shook my head at him. "No, I'm not."
Something that looked almost like hurt flashed across his face, but he shoved it down in favor of being angry again. I could understand why, but I wasn't done.
"I don't belong to you. We have a contract in place that makes me your wife for the next five months or whatever, but that's a mutual thing. Because you're my husband, too. I'm not just your property."
"Fine," he said. "Noted. I never said you were."
"But that's how you meant it."
"No, it isn't," he bit out. "You don't know what I meant."
"Because you suck at saying it," I muttered. "And I think I know more than you're giving me credit for. Because I'm not yours, but you want me to be."
And that was the kicker. Surprise and confusion and a little bit of tiredness were all there for me to see in Killian's eyes. For one of the first times since I'd met him, he wasn't hiding behind his rich, handsome man mask.
He was standing in front of me, a mess of emotions, and I had to admit I liked it. It made him seem more human, more real. Less like he was just a bunch of desirable traits in a trench coat and more like he was someone I could reach out and touch.
So, I did.
Chapter 17
Ashlyn
I reached out, and I put a hand on his arm. "Say it," I told him. "Say it and then prove it."
It was every bit a challenge. I knew Killian. I'd come to know him pretty damned well over the last almost seven months. He wasn't good with words that meant anything more underneath than what they were on the surface, and he didn't do feelings well.
From what I knew of his upbringing, I couldn't blame him for that. So I was giving him an out if he wanted it. He could tell me I was wrong, send me away, and we'd never have to talk about it again. At the end of this, we would go our separate ways, and even if I didn't end up with Simon, I would end up with someone who wasn't Killian.
Or he could lean into it and do what he did best, and then maybe we'd see where it could go from there.
I waited, almost not breathing, to see what he was going to choose.
He moved his arm from under my hand and grabbed my wrist. Instead of yanking me in closer, he closed the distance by coming to me, backing me up until I felt the cool glass of the window at my back.
He leaned down, pressing the advantage of his height over me, and I swallowed hard, suddenly consumed with nothing but him.
"I want you to be mine," he murmured, voice low and deep, almost touchable as it shivered over me. "I don't want anyone else to ever touch you. I want to be the only one who knows how to you taste, how you beg, how you fall apart."
My breath caught with the way he was talking to me. It was like he was whispering the words right into my ear and they were traveling down and making me wet.
I knew he meant them, was the thing. He wasn't just saying it because it was dirty talk and it got both of us hot. There was sincerity there, and I didn't know if that made it better or worse, but I was turned on either way.
I swallowed hard again, mouth suddenly very dry.
He let go out of my wrist and skated his fingers up my body until they were right at my neck.
His fingers danced over the skin there, tickling just a bit, before he settled his hand heavy and sure in the same position a collar might have gone, keeping me pinned against the window with that hand and the rest of his body.
"Is that what you want to hear?" he continued. "That I want to be the only one who ever gets to touch you like this and make you lose your mind with desire?"
I nodded, and then stopped. Shook my head.
Killian frowned, and I spoke before he could get upset. "I... I want to hear that," I said. "But I also want to hear you say that you want me to be the only one you do those things to."
That was another facet of it, but if we were going to do this, then we were going to do it fairly, goddammit, and I had to say it before I got lost in the way he made me feel and started agreeing to anything just to make him keep touching me. He had talented hands and was far too good at making me lose my train of thought with them.
He looked a bit surprised, which was honestly his own fault, and then he smiled, dipping his head for a moment so I couldn't see his face.
When he looked back up, he was still smiling, and his eyes were hot with desire.
God. It wasn't even fair.
"Alright," he agreed. "Deal. I want that. Because no one makes it as good as you do. Did you know that? The way you react. The way you're so bright and so determined. The way you melt into it when you finally let yourself give in. I have never felt that with anyone else."
I was sure my cheeks were pink with embarrassment, and I ducked my head a bit, only to have him use the hand at my neck to lift my head back up. "No," he said. "Don't hide from me."
I whined softly, and even a casual order like that was enough to have me groaning internally while my pussy throbbed with need.
I had no idea how he always managed to be so damned hot all the time.
"I didn't expect you to agree that easily," I mumbled, and he grinned.
"I can be very reasonable when I want to be." And then he was leaning in, closing the distance between us in a hot kiss.
And there it was. There it was, that spark of heat and longing and needing that had been missing when I kissed Simon. It was impossible to ignore, burning where our lips touched and then racing down through me, tingling down my spine and ending up firmly between my legs, making my need even more noticeable.
I moaned softly, just from th
e start of a kiss, and Killian pressed in more, pushing me against the cold glass of the window so there was nowhere to go.
I was stuck with him in front of me and the window at my back, and I had never felt more secure than I did in that moment.
He kissed me like it had been weeks since we'd last been together instead of days. He kissed me like he could pour every bit of feeling he had into it, lips pressing and brushing, his tongue sweeping into my mouth to lay his claim.
He dominated me through that kiss, making me take what he wanted me to have, coaxing my tongue to move against his. His teeth grazed my lower lip, and he let his hands move, the one still at my neck tightening and the other going under my shirt, touching the skin of my stomach before he moved upwards to rub my breasts through my bra.
For my part, I was just coming undone for him. It was like by kissing Simon, my body had finally made its choice of what it wanted and what it didn't.
Simon hadn't been enough, but this... this was everything. This was what I had been made to crave over the last nearly seven months.
My nipples tightened, going into hard little peaks in my bra, and Killian's hand and the feel of the fabric against them was only making it worse.
Between my legs, my pussy was wet and tingling, eager for some attention to be paid to it as well.
Killian didn't seem to be in a hurry, though. He kissed me like he had all the time in the world. His mouth was delicious, and I kissed him back, grinding against him as best I could in a bid to seek out some friction.
That got a husky laugh from him, and his breath ghosted against my wet, kiss bruised lips when he pulled back.
"Eager," he murmured, pressing his fingers just a bit more against my neck, just enough that I could feel what he could do to me if he decided he wanted to. "You're so eager for it."
I licked my lips and nodded. "I told you to prove it," I answered back, sounding shaky and full of need. "That you want me to be yours."
He laughed again, giving me those dark eyes. Now they were warm with lust instead of anger, but it affected me the same, rocking me down to my core.
"You did," he agreed. "And I plan to do just that."
For a moment, he didn't move, just looking at me, just taking it all in. Then he was everywhere, hands and mouth and teeth and tongue.
He pushed my shirt and bra up in one fluid motion, exposing my tits to the cool air of his apartment.
My nipples were hard and pebbled, and he dipped his head down to bite one of them hard enough that I cried out, arching against him.
The pain was sharp and hot, and it went straight to my pussy, making me wetter.
One hand gripped at his shirt, needing something to hold onto, and the other went to the window, palm open, fingers splayed against the glass.
Again, Killian didn't rush. He licked and bit at my nipple, sucking it into his mouth every now and then to ease the sting of it before he went back to attacking it with vigor.
When it was red and puffy from his attentions, he switched to the other one, giving it the same treatment.
I just held on and tried to keep breathing, legs shaking slightly from the intense stimulation.
"Fuck," I panted, head tipped back against the glass. "Fuck, please. Please, Killian."
"Shh," he soothed, glancing up at me. "I'm going to take care of you."
And I knew he would. I knew I wouldn't be wanting for long.
As if to prove the point, his hand went between my legs, rubbing me through my leggings and underwear.
The material wasn't thick enough to keep me from feeling the heat of his palm against my most sensitive areas, and I moaned, eyes falling closed while he stroked and cupped my sex.
My hips rolled forward, grinding against him slowly, trying to get just the right angle so I could feel everything.
Killian pulled his hand back, though, smirking at me. "No, no," he said. "You're not going to get off like this."
I whined softly and made a face, and he moved so he was looming over me again, leaning down until his mouth was right against my ear. "When you come, you're going to come on my cock, begging for it like the needy little slut you are," he practically whispered.
My legs almost gave out right then and there. There was just something about the way he said it, about the way his voice was pitched low and was almost velvety soft against my ear when he spoke.
I knew he meant it. I knew he was going to make me feel everything and beg him to let me come before it was all said and done. That was his favorite thing, and it usually pained me to do it, but this time I was pretty sure I could make an exception.
Before I could say anything, I was being turned around and pushed back up against the window. My eyes were filled with the sight of the city, spread out below us. There were people walking down the street, cars parked along the sidewalk. All anyone would have to do was look up high enough and they would see my tits pressed against the cold glass, nipples rock hard.
I opened my mouth, but all that came out was a desperate little whimper, and I watched my breath fog up the window while Killian yanked my leggings and panties down behind me.
He was being quick now, efficient and cold in his movements, exposing me to his gaze.
I knew I was soaking wet, and he would notice immediately.
He did, and he laughed, reaching down to smack my pussy with one hand. "Look at you," he teased. "Already a fucking mess for me. Is that all it takes, Ash? Just some kissing and teasing and you're already a soaking wet little thing."
I whined and shook my head, and he just snorted and reached out to push the side of my face against the window, keeping me pinned there.
His other hand pulled on the waistband of my leggings, now around my hips, and it made me step back, maneuvering so my ass was out and my tits and face were still against the window.
My heart was pounding in my chest. Aside from the time we fucked in an airport bathroom, this might have been the lewdest thing I'd done with him.
No one was there to see it, and there was much less risk than the bathroom, but at least we'd been behind a closed door that time.
Now all that was separating me from being seen was a pane of glass and several hundred feet.
I felt exposed and vulnerable, like anyone could look up and see me getting teased and fucked against the window like some common slut with no dignity, but even the thought of it sent shivers through me.
Killian knew what he was doing.
"Do you want them to see?" he asked me. I could just about make out the smirk on his face in the window reflection. "Do you want them to look up and see you with your pants around your hips, getting fucked in the middle of the day like some cheap whore? I bet they'd appreciate the view. I bet they'd wonder how they could get a turn."
His fingers tightened against my head for a second, and then threaded into my hair, grabbing on tight and drawing a soft cry from me at the slight pain.
"Well, they can't," he growled. "No one else can touch you. You're mine. Mine to toy with and tease. Mine to wreck and ruin. They can look all they want, but they will never, ever touch you."
His voice rang with possessiveness, and I nearly came on the spot just from that.
Chapter 18
Ashlyn
Killian was in his element, and I was so keyed up I was nearly trembling, desperate to get him inside me.
"Please," I begged. "Please fuck me."
"Oh, I'm going to, baby. Don't worry about that."
He kept his hand in my hair while the other fumbled with his belt behind me.
I wanted to turn my head, to see his big, beautiful cock when he freed it from the confines of his pants, but he kept my head where it was with his grip, not letting me move at all.
My heart was racing at the thrill of it, the ease with which he asserted his dominance over me. I really could see why all the women at the club and the ball had been fawning over him. For someone who enjoyed feeling like this, helpless and held down, Killian was
a master. He knew how to milk reactions from his partners, and he knew how to play on the things they already liked to make the moment better.
That was evidenced by the fact that I felt like I was going to die if he didn't touch me already.
I whined, pushing my ass out more, seeking warmth and touch and friction, anything to sate the empty need inside of me.
Killian just chuckled and continued at his own pace, freeing his cock. From the sounds I could hear, it sounded like he was stroking himself, and I closed my eyes, picturing him hard and pulsing, ready to enter me at any moment.
God, I wished he would.
I wanted him to bury that length inside of me, fill me up and make it so all I could think about was his cock.
"Killian," I whimpered. "Please."
The end of my plea was punctuated by a moan as he rubbed the thick head of his cock around my slick entrance, teasing it as he got his cock wet.
"I know what you need," he promised, and with his free hand, he guided himself into me, burying himself right to the hilt in one smooth movement.
I was wet enough that there was only the slightest burn to the stretch while he was pushing his way inside, and my breath caught and then left me in a ragged wave.
I felt so full and so good, and he kept me pinned in place, making me stand there, impaled on his cock, while he caught his own breath.
"You feel so fucking good," he groaned, his free hand gripping my ass and then my hip, so he had something else to hold onto. His fingers dug in and I could tell that by the time we were done here, I was going to have bruises left behind.
I didn't care. I wanted him to mark me up, to leave behind physical traces that he wanted me, that I was his. I wanted to be able to look at them in the morning when I was getting ready for work and remember what we'd done.
It was surprising, honestly. Usually I wanted to forget the things Killian did to me and the way he made me feel. I spent the week in denial about how I felt about it, and then when the weekend came around, I gritted my teeth and dealt with it.