by Leddy Harper
I left no doubt in her mind who she belonged to.
Twenty-Four
Rylee
“I don’t have time for this,” I said to Josh, who seemed incapable of listening when I spoke. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the fight? Not on the phone with me, arguing over the same things.”
“I don’t need to get ready. If anything, that fucker should be preparing for me. I’ve got his ticket. The only thing I need to practice is my acting. Sorry-ass bitch gets all emotional when his opponent is hurt. All I gotta do is pretend I’m in pain, and bam! I’ll knock him on his ass.”
“Josh…” I dropped my head into my hand, curling into myself over the sink. A wave of nausea rolled through me over his unyielding confidence. I’d seen them both fight, and even though Killian had beaten him the last time, I couldn’t help the fear of this time being different. Josh was right. Killian had a weakness, and nothing would stop Josh from exploiting it.
“Babe…” He mimicked my exasperation, rushing his exhaled word through the line. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me. I’ve stepped back, given you space. I’ve left you alone the nights before a fight—despite how badly I’ve needed you—all because you’ve asked me to. Can’t you just do this one thing for me?”
I scoffed, nearly choking on the saliva that pooled beneath my tongue. “You make it sound like you’re asking me to pick up your dry cleaning, Josh. But you’re not. You want me to suck your dick so you can be relaxed for this fight. I won’t do that.”
“You don’t want me to be relaxed?”
“Go jerk yourself off if that’s what you need, but I’ve already told you I’m not doing that for you anymore. In the past, I did it because I was your girlfriend, and I wanted to show you support. We’re not together. I’m not your girlfriend. And I realize now, that wasn’t me giving you support—that was you using me, and me giving up my dignity in the process.”
“You may believe we’re not together…but I know the truth.” His paranoia had taken on a whole new voice. No longer did it make him sound like a jealous boyfriend. Instead, he refused to accept the fact we were over. He was delusional.
He’d gotten a little better over the last month. Less controlling when it came to me, no longer forcing me to give him head—we still argued over whether it was actual force or not—and he did give me space. Although, that was still debatable. There were times he’d say things about where I was or how long I was inside a store that led me to believe he’d been following me. But at least he kept his “distance.” I still went to the fights with him; however, that was more my decision than his. I honestly only went to see Killian. With the fear of being watched, I never wanted to risk seeing Killian outside of the ring. And aside from last weekend, I hadn’t seen him at all. It was too much of a gamble.
“It’s not going to happen, Josh. If you need to get off in order to clear your head and relax before tonight, then either take care of it yourself or find someone else. I have plans and I’m not going to cancel them just so you can get your dick sucked.” I slipped on my shoes and grabbed my purse from the hook next to the door.
“Where are you going?” he asked, completely disregarding the mention of having someone else tend to his needs. To be honest, it surprised me. When I’d mentioned it once before, he flipped out and told me he wasn’t a cheater.
“I’m meeting with a co-worker. And no, I’m not going to tell you where.”
“Fine,” he bit out, his anger palpable. “But you’ll be there tonight, right?”
I’d decided I couldn’t watch the fight. Just thinking about it made my stomach twist and flip until a metallic taste coated my tongue. Josh and Killian were both good fighters, both had a chance of winning in the ring tonight. However, I couldn’t risk being there in the event Josh won. I knew he’d stake his claim on me. He’d follow through with his celebratory promise—the one he made before this tournament round began. Before Killian came into the picture. The same promise I’d agreed to, long before everything became so murky.
But I couldn’t tell him any of that. “Sure, Josh. I’ll be there.” I prayed he wouldn’t be able to hear the lie. “Listen, I have to go. I’m getting ready to get in my car and head out. I’ll talk to you later.”
Before climbing into my vehicle, I glanced around the empty street, looking for any trace of Josh. Feeling confident he wasn’t there, I tossed my phone into my purse and settled behind the steering wheel. My heart raced the entire drive, and I couldn’t stop obsessively checking the rearview mirror. Josh had mentioned needing to be at the gym at two, saying Dalton required him to be there early to prepare and get in the zone. But I knew him. If he thought I’d lied to him, nothing would stop him from finding out the truth. He had an hour before he had to report to Dalton, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he wasted it chasing me.
When I pulled into the diagonal space in front of the brick row houses, I took a moment to calm my nerves. With no sign of Josh, I wanted to believe I was safe, but I couldn’t ignore the fear of his unpredictable paranoia. However, one glance at the open front door, at Killian standing there, leaning against the frame without a shirt on, I felt safe.
“What time do you have to be at the gym?” I asked once I made it inside and he had the door closed behind me. “I mean, not for the fight, but to get ready.”
Rather than giving me an answer, Killian took my hand and led me around the couch to his room. With the door closed, he seemed to find his ability to speak. “Cal said I just have to be there an hour before. He knows me by now, knows I’m better prepared when I’m here instead of punching a bag or doing drills.”
“What kinds of things do you do here to get ready?”
“It’s all mental, Rylee.” He took the scratchpad from the mattress and shoved it beneath the bed. “If I don’t have the strength or stamina by now, then I won’t have it before tonight. I spend this time remembering why I’m here.”
“So you draw? To remind yourself of what you’re fighting for?” My heart skipped a beat when he nodded, his gaze glued to the floor next to his bed. “What do you draw?”
“You.” His eyes met mine and glowed a brilliant, minty color. “You’re my reason for being here. For doing this. For going in that ring tonight and coming out the winner. I mean…it’s for me, but ultimately, I do it all for you. Everything I’ve ever done has been for you.”
“Except leaving me,” I mumbled beneath my breath.
He gently held my arm and waited until I met his stare before saying, “Even then, it was for you. I left because I needed to deal with the shit that happened to me. I needed to face my past head on. I needed to find my voice. All so I could be a man for you. So I could take care of you and provide for you.”
My heart nearly dropped to my feet. Sorrow crept into my chest and confusion settled in my mind. “But, Killian, you haven’t found your voice. You still refuse to talk to people. How will tonight make any difference?”
“I’m working on it. Do you trust me?” His gaze implored me to nod, which I did. “Then trust I’m doing the right thing. I’ve talked to Cal—like talked. It wasn’t much, but it was something. This won’t happen overnight, nor do I expect it to, but I know I’ll get through it. And having you here gives me the strength to push even more.”
I sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping around me, and I leaned back on my hands. “Then sketch me.” He’d always used his memory when penciling my likeness, never using me as a model. So this time, I wanted to offer him something new in the hopes it’d help him mentally prepare for tonight.
His neck bobbed with his thick swallow, causing the hairs to shift around his Adam’s apple. Without wasting time, he moved to stand in front of me and tugged at my top until it was on the floor at his feet. After unhooking my bra and discarding that as well, he grabbed my legs, behind my knees, and moved them onto the bed, turning me to the side. I thought he’d take off my wedges, but he left them on. However, he didn’t leave on m
y long Bohemian skirt or panties. Those were off within seconds.
Lying in the middle of the bed in nothing but my shoes, I relaxed into the comfort of his scent and closed my eyes. I grew lost in the scratches of his pencil, the swooshes of his hands moving over the paper, the crinkles of the pad in his lap as he sat in front of me. Every now and then, I’d open my eyes and take in his brilliance. His furrowed brow. His long lashes. His teeth clamped down on his bottom lip. It was intoxicating to watch him study me. Every inch of my naked form. Every line, every detail, the remnants of every mark he’d left behind on my skin a week ago.
He glanced at me and his hand stilled. No longer sketching, he blinked several times in my direction, almost as if he couldn’t believe I was here. In front of him. In the flesh. Like all this time I’d been nothing more than his imagination, and now…now I was real.
I sat up and reached for him. Rather than climbing on top of me, he tossed the pad of paper to the floor and pulled me off the bed. He spun me around in his arms until my back was to his chest, then he leaned into me, causing me to catch myself on the bed. His heated touch wrapped around the back of my thigh, just above the bend in my knee, and he pulled it up and propped it on the edge of the mattress. His leg grazed mine, widening my stance. I was bent over, bare as the day I was born, all while he silently manipulated my body into the position he sought. I wasn’t sure if he planned to draw me like this, or if this was his way of telling me he’d had enough of the penciled version of me and needed the real thing.
Either way, I let him call the shots.
I let him take the lead.
I followed.
A burst of humid air landed on the small of my back, just before the moisture of his lips cooled it down. His fingertips danced on the sensitive skin around the curve of my ass. And before I knew what was happening, his tongue slid through my folds from behind. I tried to buck against him at the sensation, but he held me still. He drove the tip of his tongue into my entrance, but before I could explore the sensation, his fingertip grazed the tight ring of my backside. My body grew hot, and desperate need flowed out of me in untamable moans and grunts. I could no longer hold myself up and fell onto my elbows, conceding to the things he did to me.
“Killian…” I moaned his name, hoping he heard the longing in my tone.
His mouth vanished, although his touch remained. There wasn’t enough time to discern what he was doing before I became completely filled with him. His initial thrust took me by surprise, eliciting a gasp, but he stilled long enough for me to acclimate to him. I was convinced I’d never get used to his size, no matter how many times I was with him.
“You’re so perfect, Rylee,” he said from behind me in a strained voice. “So perfect, like you were made for me.” He slowly dragged his shaft out until only the head remained wrapped in my warmth. Stilling for a beat, he said, “No one else,” and then he pushed deep into me until his pelvis slapped against my ass.
Two thrusts in and he had already found my G-spot. I clenched around him and tilted my hips back, offering him more reach. With my face buried in the comforter, I held my breath, pressed my eyes tightly closed, and bore down for the impending orgasm building low in my belly as I met him thrust for thrust. But Killian wouldn’t let me catch it.
I couldn’t register anything other than him sliding out of me until he had me flipped onto my back, my legs bent and spread wide for him. Rather than filling me with his dick again, he plunged three fingers inside and cupped my mound while staring directly into my eyes. He bent at the waist with his mouth hovering over my heaving chest.
While continuing his assault on me with his fingers, his tongue peeked out and flicked my hardened nipple. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging to get off. But”—he switched to the other breast and took his time tracing lines of moisture around that nipple—“I’m not going to let you come until I do.” He nipped at me. “We’re going to come hard. Together.”
What he was doing to me was almost too much to bear. I couldn’t take it any longer and gripped the comforter while riding his hand and arching my breast into his mouth. The onslaught started all over again, forming low in my gut and spreading to the fried nerves in the small of my back.
Again, he stopped just as I reached the cusp of my orgasm. He stood between my parted legs and stuck his fingers in his mouth, slowly dragging them out while holding me hostage with his stare. I don’t think I’d ever been more turned on in my life. Once he was done sucking my arousal off his fingers, he took hold of my wrists and pinned them to the bed above my head. And with the pace of a snail, he entered me.
Unlike before, his movements were drawn out, unhurried as he withdrew and slid into me again and again. We were face to face, eye to eye. His breaths warming my cheeks. His chest barely inches from mine as he rolled in and out of me, slowly bringing me back to the edge.
“I can’t take it anymore, Killian. You’re killing me. I need to come. Please…”
He closed his eyes just before his lips met mine. His ministrations hadn’t changed, hadn’t waned or sped up while he lovingly massaged my tongue with his. When we were younger, there were times he’d be slow and gentle, making love to me the only way a teenager knew how. Then there were the times we’d be wrapped up in impatience and desperate need, when it’d be fast and punishing. However, no matter the pace or the circumstance, he was always loving. Always concerned with me. With my pleasure. He’d always held this air of control, even when he seemed uncontrollable. Regardless, I never felt unsafe with him. Even now…his control seemed more refined, more dominate, yet he still showed me this was about me. His gratification would come when mine did. And I never doubted that.
The way he ground against my clit, even with the slow pace he kept up, my body began to hum with pleasure once again. I wanted to hide it from him, act like I wasn’t on the verge of coming apart, because I didn’t want him to stop again. But if there was only ever one truth to our story, it was that I could never keep anything from him.
He knew.
He felt it.
And he stopped it.
Releasing my wrists, he slid back, pulling away from my body to stand between my legs again. He gripped the backs of my thighs, my knees bent over his hands, his dick still deep inside me. “You’ll come with me. And I’m not ready to end this just yet,” he said through gritted teeth as he dragged himself almost completely out of me. Then, without warning, he slammed into me again.
My back arched off the bed, offering him a deeper angle. I was incapable of doing anything other than gripping the material of the bed beneath me and letting him take me. I couldn’t stifle my moans or muffle my needy cries. I gave it all to him. Letting him love me in his own way. Loving him with everything I had.
Everything I ever was.
Everything I’d ever be.
After he’d cut off so many orgasms before they could even begin, the urge to come became stronger, more unbearable than ever before. It was no longer simply a wave of heat washing over my skin or burning nerves at the base of my spine. My legs shook, my chest constricted. A deep ache took over my entire being, suffocating me in the inferno I’d found myself trapped in. My knuckles ached with the grip I had on the bed. Every muscle in my entire body wound so tight I didn’t think I could move without breaking apart into a million pieces.
Relief flooded me when his tense, gritty voice resounded around me. “Give it to me, Rylee. Fucking come for me.” I gave in and exploded around him. Wave after debilitating wave drowned me in a sea of pleasure. Ecstasy consumed me, stealing my breath, silencing my screams, burning bright and hot enough to set every molecule on fire. His garbled words were music, and I danced to the unintelligible lyrics.
His body collapsed on mine.
His exhales mingled with my heavy pants.
His perspiration added to the sheen on my clammy skin.
We were one.
Always had been.
Always would be.
/> Twenty-Five
Killian
After filling Rylee with my need for her, I had to force myself to leave. She was in my bed, sound asleep. The images of her chest rising and falling with each contented breath followed me all the way to the gym.
I was calm.
Like the eye of a storm.
On the verge of becoming deadly when it’s least expected.
As I stood in the back room, in front of the mirror over the sink, I ran my hands over my face and let my eyes fall closed. Adrenaline began to spike, but I wouldn’t let it. I needed an even head going into this match, and the only way to do so was to replay the images of Rylee behind my eyelids.
I hadn’t stopped with her once we finished. It took a moment to catch our breaths, but once we did, I found myself settled between her legs, my lips covering every inch of her perfect body. I’d even grabbed a marker and drew my name on the curve of her pelvic bone, just like I’d done so many times before. She didn’t stop me, just laid there while I marked her. Between the black ink and the purplish mark—forming faint bruises—there was no doubt who she belonged to, even though she hated it when I said that.
But it was the truth.
It wasn’t me staking ownership over her. It wasn’t some claim of my control over her. No. It simply meant she belonged to me. And I belonged to her. We were made for each other—we belonged together by design. Two halves of the same whole. She wasn’t a possession, but something valuable—something invaluable. An heirloom you can’t part with, a memory that can’t be taken away. Priceless.
That’s what she was to me.
Except now, she wasn’t just a memory. She was real. Tangible. Living, breathing, in my life once again. Just like it was meant to be. Josh meant nothing. The years I lived apart from her were meaningless. The pain we’d endured through our separation no longer mattered. Because it was all over with now. She was mine again. And my heart was where it belonged.