by Annie Dyer
He left a wet trail as his mouth moved to my breasts, kissing and sucking the exposed skin at the top of my bra. “Take it off,” I said. “I want your mouth on me.”
“You have a headache,” he said, looking up, his expression both concerned and guilty.
“This is the best cure.”
His fingers expertly undid the front clasp, freeing my tits, one hand immediately cupping my left breast, his mouth going straight to my nipple where he began to lick and suck. My hips jutted forward and I greedily reached inside his sweatpants and grabbed his cock, thankful he’d left off his underwear.
Killian switched to the other breast, his hand still at my left, pinching the nipple hard and then soft and I knew I had soaked my panties and probably the sheet under me.
“I want to make you come,” he said. “I want to taste your pussy on my tongue.”
“Do it,” I said, my voice sounding calm. “That’ll get rid of my headache.”
His mouth carried on down my body, kissing the skin over my stomach and down to my panties, pushing them down and down until I lifted my hips again and he pulled them down, throwing them on to the floor.
I wasn’t bare, but I was tidier, tidier than I had been when I was at college. I heard him take a sharp breath and look up at me. “You smell fucking amazing.” Then his mouth moved back down and his gave me one long lick from my soaking centre to my clit before I felt his teeth graze me and he started to suck. My hips jerked and my hands went to his head, fingers pulling at his hair, encouraging him to keep going, to apply more pressure to make me come.
He took back control, bringing my legs over his shoulders, completely opening me up to him. His tongue dipped inside me and I wished it was his cock.
“Later,” he said. “You can have my cock later or tomorrow.” I hadn’t realised I’d said the words aloud and then I felt the scruff of his beard tickle the top of my thighs and he carried on licking and sucking my clit, short little licks that never missed a beat and I felt my orgasm build and build until I fractured, my body convulsing as my insides clenched and I lost my mind a little.
He waited until I’d still before looming over me. Cognizant of the hard cock in his pants, I managed to gain the use of my limbs and pushed his sweat pants down, exposing the hand thick length of his cock. He’d been my first and my biggest. When I’d first seen him, I’d been scared at how much he would hurt or whether I’d be able to fit him all in. Ironically, he’d never caused me too much pain, only the pleasant stretch that I’d enjoyed. Other lovers since, ones who hadn’t been as big as him, had hurt more sometimes, not having made me wet enough first. He’d never had that problem.
One of my hands wasn’t big enough to go all the way round him, so I used both, the technique never having been forgotten. I guided him between my legs to the wetness that was smeared around me.
“I’m not fucking you yet,” he said, almost a growl. “Fuck knows how much I want to be in you though.”
“Just wet the head,” I said, guiding his cock against my clit, spreading my legs wider. I liked him seeing me open like this, liked having his eyes over the most intimate parts of me and the reaction it prompted in him.
He groaned and I felt his resolve slipping, his cock hard and throbbing between my hands. I started to move my fingers, up and down, encouraging his hips to move further up over me.
My eyes moved from his cock to his face, his hips controlling the pace at which we moved. “That feels so good,” he said. “You going to let me come on your tits?”
“Yes,” I said. He’d loved doing this before we first had sex, seeing his come over me, over my nipples and dripping down onto my stomach. My pussy clenched again and I itched to slop a hand between my legs and make myself come again.
“You need to come again?” he said, and I realised my legs had spread further.
“Yes,” I said. The way he was kneeling freed up his hands and I wasn’t one to turn down an opportunity. “Please use your fingers.”
He moved a hand back and put his fingers on my wet centre, then pushed two into my pussy. “You’re still so tight,” he said, his thumb starting to massage my clit.
My hands slowed on his cock while he fingered me, my legs tensing as another orgasm approached. I came around his hand, crying out into the quiet of the house. As soon as I was done he moved higher up my body again and started to thrust quicker into my hand, his back straightening and bracing as he came, shooting strings of white semen across my tits and my stomach, his eyes transfixed on where he was marking.
And then he relaxed, sitting back on his heels, still straddling me. I started to feel where he’d come, moving it into my skin and he caught the back of one of my hands, guiding it down to my pussy. “Rub it in here,” he ordered. I did, mixing his wetness with my own. It felt slightly forbidden, an erotic act. I was on the Pill, not that it had done me much good when I was nineteen, but since then I’d always used condoms too, never wanting to take a chance with anyone who wasn’t Killian.
He pulled his t-shirt off and bent down to kiss me, a satisfied kiss without the demand of before. “We should get you cleaned up.”
My hands locked around the back of his neck, holding him close enough. “Want to help?”
“Always.”
The shower was a large wet room, enough space for two, even when one was Killian’s size. He turned on all the jets and the shower head, soaking us thoroughly and then taking the shower gel I’d unpacked in there and started to soap me, taking his time as his hands ran over my skin. It was intimate and powerful enough to make me feel as if I’d had all the regrets and worries accumulated from the last thirteen years exhumed from my memory, creating relief and making me feel lighter.
I returned the favour, stretching up to wash down his back and biceps, both of which were covered with tattoos: mandalas, pictures and writing in an ornate script. I tried to set each one to memory, something to think about and see in my mind’s eye when I lay in bed trying to get to sleep.
“Your tattoos,” I said, not knowing what else to say but needing to acknowledge them.
“Do you like them?”
I nodded, my fingers tracing the ink on one of his pecs. “I think they’re beautiful.”
He laughed, the sound echoing in his chest. “They’re manly. Or I’ll take sexy.”
“I take it beautiful’s too feminine?”
“This is beautiful.” His hands cupped my breasts and then dropped to my ass, his fingers brushing up to where my tattoo was: a poppy inked in shades of black. “Why this?”
“Lest we forget,” I said. “I had it done when you started your first deployment.”
He took a step back and regarded me. “Why?”
“Because I worried that you wouldn’t come home and I needed something on me to remind me of you, so I’d never forget.”
“But you can’t see it.” It was on my lower back, the stem curling down towards my ass.
“I can in the mirror and I know it’s there. I’d like to get more; I’ve just not decided what yet.” He turned me round and dropped to his knees, kissing my tattoo.
“This is perfect. You’re perfect.”
I shook my head. “I’m not Killian. I’m truly not. And you’ll realise that too.”
“No,” he said, turning off the showers and grabbing the towel, pulling it round me. “Whatever it is you need to tell me I will understand because I know you and I know that whatever it was, you did it because it was what you had to do.”
I nodded, only hoping that he was speaking the truth.
Chapter Fourteen
Killian
Water seemed like the best solution as Claire finished getting ready upstairs. After the shower we’d laid down on the bed and fallen asleep, wrapped in each other and a sheet. I had a habit of falling asleep in between showering and having to go out, so I’d set an alarm giving us an hour to dress before Nick was picking us up to go to Katie’s awards dinner.
I wasn’t one
for over-thinking situations. I considered the facts I had and made a decision. If I made the wrong one, then I had done so honestly from the information I had at the time. Nothing about what Claire and I had done seemed wrong. When she’d been woken by the alarm she’d stretched into me, moving arms sleepily around me and closed her eyes again, muttering something about not moving. When I finally made her move, she’d smiled, her expression soft and I couldn’t see a hint of regret in her face.
I wanted to go up there, tell her our plans had changed, and spend the evening in, watching TV, eating take-out and just talking. Instead I needed to wake up, put my professional head on and help Nick take care of Katie at the awards dinner. I would have rather Claire wasn’t there, preferring her to be at home where I knew she’d be safe as I didn’t trust Dean Lacey one tiny fucking iota. The veiled threats he’d made today had made my blood run hot enough to melt the arctic and I had to keep telling myself that I couldn’t wrap her up in a box in my safe room until it all blew over. Plus, Claire being recognised with Katie would start to publicize her and Lacey’s split which Vanessa thought was good way to start to try to manipulate the inevitable media interest.
She wore a black dress that was moulded to every curve of her body, curves which had been there when she was younger but were now softer, more prominent. I’d appreciated them a hell of a lot when I had her naked beneath me, the image of her bare and covered in my release was one I was going to think about a shit ton when she wasn’t there. “You look amazing,” I said. “How are we playing this?”
She tipped her head to one side. “What do you mean?”
“Am I there as your bodyguard or your boyfriend?” I needed to know. I needed to know how to play it, whether to keep my distance and watch like a bird of prey stalking for dinner, or whether I could be close and be that wall between her and anyone she didn’t want to be near her.
“How do you want to play it?” There was a slight smile that curved her lips.
“I’d rather be your boyfriend. But will it cause any issues with your brothers?” There was no point telling her anything other than the truth.
“I’m happy with that,” she said. “And Max and Jackson know we’re more than friends. Hell, it seems that Max has always known.”
“Apparently so. I wish he’d said something back then so we weren’t hiding,” I said. “Things might’ve been different.”
Claire nodded, her eyes focused on mine. “That’s true. If everyone knew, we’d have had more pressure on us to stay together. And we’d have lost the excitement of it being a secret. I’m not saying that it wouldn’t have worked, but it wouldn’t have been the idyllic romance we remember.”
“I know. But maybe it would’ve been more real.” I said, hearing the truth in her words.
“And maybe we would’ve ended up married in our early twenties and now would’ve been getting divorced. We don’t know, Killian. But what we do have is a second chance. So that’s why you’re not my security tonight. I want this to be about us.” There was about six feet between us, too far a distance, so I covered it in two steps and pulled her into my chest, feeling her softness and smelling her perfume.
“I’m your security as well. But now I have even more reason to glare at any men who look at you,” I said, my voice quiet, half muffled by how I spoke into her hair. I had never been a possessive boyfriend or lover, even when I was with Claire when we were younger, because I didn’t want to smother anyone. I had seen some of my military friends take the light out of their girlfriends and wives because they were too protective. Any caveman tactics with Claire would result in her putting the boot into us and I trusted her. She wasn’t the type of person to mess anyone around; she was fair and kind and I didn’t need to show to other men than she was mine, because she wouldn’t even notice them.
“You’re not going to ask me to change, are you?” she said, eyes dancing as she looked up at me.
“Fuck no,” I said, my hands cupping her ass. “Although you might distract me from what I’m meant to be watching.”
She laughed, lifting herself up on her toes to kiss me. “I’ll let you look all you want when we get back here after. And I might let you touch too.”
I had already been half hard from looking at her and feeling her ass; her words sending more blood to my cock.
It was going to be a long evening.
The Kindness in the Community Awards had been set up by Katie two years ago to celebrate the work done by friends, neighbours, carers and other people who voluntarily cared for people in their local communities. Rather than the room being filled with celebrities and business men who were only there to raise their own profiles, it was filled with normal people; soccer coaches, teachers, young carers, an elderly neighbour who knitted things for premature babies at her local hospital. Everyone was dressed up, but not in designer gear, except for one or two celebrities who came across as genuinely giving a shit. There was also the media, and it didn’t take too long before a photo was snapped of Claire and then she was spotted, Vanessa’s campaign when Callaghan Green was rebranded a couple of months ago having made Claire more recognisable.
There was a series of awards given out, the nominations supported by video clips of the everyday heroes at work and the awards presented by local celebrities and Katie herself.
“She looks too thin,” Claire murmured as Katie came off stage, my brother lingering nearby. Denico was also around, as was another of our men. We didn’t think Lacey would try anything tonight; there were too many people around and he wouldn’t want to court any bad publicity, but that didn’t mean there couldn’t be an ‘accident’, a bit like the break in at the cottage yesterday, anything to intimidate Katie or Claire. “Nick needs to encourage her to eat when they go away again.”
“He knows,” I said. I’d heard my brother talk an awful lot about Katie in the past twenty-four hours, a lot more than he’d spoken about any woman for some time and I did wonder whether he was going to take a step away from being professional. Not that I’d blame him. And I liked Katie: she had a spine and was kind and genuine, but I did wonder whether either of them were in a position to get involved in anything other than just something casual.
A waitress passed by with miniature fish and chips. Rather than a sit-down meal, there were substantial finger foods and I’d probably already eaten more than I would’ve done at a three-course meal.
“It’s on social media already that I’m here and there’s speculation she’s divorcing Dean Lacey,” Claire said, checking her phone under the table. We were sitting close to each other, at a table that had just sat the four of us until Katie had to start the presentations. “Things happen quick.”
“What did Vanessa tell her to say?”
“To be vague without using a no comment response. So, she won’t confirm or deny anything about Lacey. I think this will start him into a meltdown. He’s clearly a control freak and he can’t control this,” Claire said, her eyes flitting around the room.
I nodded, threading my hand between her and the back of her chair so I could put my hand on the small of her back. “I know. But right now, nothing’s going to happen so just sit back and enjoy being here.”
She looked at me and gave me a smile that seemed happier than I’d seen for some time, maybe years. “I’m trying. I really just need this case to be over.”
“I know.” There wasn’t much more I could say. I couldn’t force Katie to hand over the evidence she had on Dean Lacey that would expedite her divorce and I couldn’t change what Dean Lacey was like so we had to just sit it out.
It was past midnight when we left the building, both women looking dead on their feet. Denico had already gone to get the car to bring it round so we could keep Katie out of the open for as long as possible. I heard the slight whirring of an electric engine and we left the building to meet it at the curb.
No one saw where the motorbike came from; it was suddenly just there, racing towards us at speed and heading for the
pavement. The driver swerved away from us and then back again, seemingly heading towards Katie. Nick yanked her out of the way and pulled her into his chest, shouting for Denico, who was now out of the car. The few passers-by yelled and one guy had his phone out, filming the bike as it rode off, again at full speed.
“Is she hurt?” I said as Nick dropped to the floor in front of Katie.
“It’s just my ankle,” Katie said. “These stupid shoes – I lost my balance and I’ve twisted it. A bit of ice and no dancing for a few days.” She tried to smile but looked fucking terrified and Claire left my side to step towards her.
Footsteps ran passed me and towards her, every nerve in my body alerted and set into action but before I could move, Claire was on the ground with a sickening thud. A man dressed in a hoodie and dark jeans tried to wrestle her purse from her hands. I moved without thinking, needing to get him off her and throw him into next week. He saw me just as I was about to jump and took off, Denico already following him. I started to run, needing to bury the bastard who had dared lay his hands-on Claire in the Thames, but my feet wouldn’t move. I saw her. I couldn’t leave.
She lay still on the pavement, her head against a lamp post, her eyes closed. I had no desire to run after the attacker, instead going straight to Claire. I knelt down next to her, Katie’s loud cries ignored. Someone nearby was calling the police and an ambulance and I heard Denico shouting to Nick.
“Claire,” I said, checking her pulse and trying to steady my own. “Claire. Can you hear me?” I shook her gently, not wanting to move her too much. There was blood from a cut; she’d caught the sharp edge of the lamppost which was also as grimy as fuck.
She moaned and there was a flickering of her eyelids. Her pulse was strong but the lack of colour to her skin worried me. I’d dealt with head injuries before, concussions, bumps and worse in my time in the military. I could carry out more than basic first aid, but right now my own hands were shaking and I needed a paramedic to be here yesterday.