A muscle bunches by his ear, but he nods. “Always.”
Under his dark gaze, I slip my skirt over my hips, baring my matching thong and his marks. His eyes fasten on them, lust and devotion swimming in his black eyes.
Running my hands over his chest, I lift my chin. “Kiss me.”
The words barely leave my lips before he crushes me in his grip, hauling me as close as he can. I’m sure it’s a way to soothe his heart, trying to force us together as if we’re two broken halves looking to rejoin.
His tongue is wicked, sliding between my lips. He tastes like he does everything—with dominance and confidence. His nails cut into my hips before one hand grabs my head, knotting my hair to move me the way he wants. A soft moan leaves my mouth, and he surges closer, as if to steal it. Everything I have, he wants—my safeguard in troubling times.
Pulling back, he nibbles on my bottom lip. “You kiss me like that again, and I’m going to fuck you on this desk.”
“That’s the plan.”
At his surprised look, I smile wider. Walking around the desk, I point to the desk chair, snapping my fingers. “Here.”
The Reaper is already dropping his jacket, wiping his shirt over his head, eyes heated. His arms move, funerary flowers on one side, the Grim Reaper on the other, twitching as he rights himself. The black-winged tattoos on his back flutter over his shoulders and up his neck, curving over his chest. My eyes drop to my initials, scarred on his pec.
A single playing card, the queen of hearts, freshly inked, rests beside it. My mark and tattoo showing my ownership.
Dropping into the chair, he looks up at me as if I’m divinity come to earth.
“The capo won’t like this.”
“I’ll buy him a new chair.” I’ll need to.
At this angle, Reese has an unobstructed view of us. Bleeding, tired, and sweaty, his hands are pinned to the sides, and his body is secure. He might be able to look away, but he won’t be able to stop listening.
My fingers run over his chest, flicking his nipple piercings, before trailing lower. His stomach contracts, his abs trembling under me.
Flipping open his zipper, his cock eagerly springs free. My mouth waters, and without waiting for his approval, my tongue swirls around the head.
“Fuck,” he grunts, fingers digging at the armchair. He’s trying so hard not to pull me away and have his fun, but this is for me.
Bobbing my head, I take as much of him as I can into my mouth. It’s tight, and I gag, but his moans are enough to spur me on.
This used to be something taken, never given freely. It took years before I felt comfortable enough doing this with Killian—but it’s worth it.
He doesn’t get this. This is for me.
Wrenching my head back, Killian glares down at me, lids heavy. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to fucking lose it. Are you okay?”
Being watched by a man who deceived me, in an old enemy’s territory, and he’s still worried about me and the ghosts that haunt me. I’ll never be free of them—but with Killian, they don’t dare to attack me.
“Perfect.” I try to go back, and he grabs me by the throat, plunging his tongue inside my mouth. He groans at our combined taste, tugging me to his chest. “I wasn’t done.”
“I am.” He cuts a glare at Reese. “What’s the plan, Princess?”
Kneeling over him, his cock nudges against my covered center. “Are you my good boy, Pup?”
He visibly shakes. “Woof, fucking,woof, Princess,” he groans. “If you call me a good boy again, you’d better be ready to accept the consequences.”
Grabbing hold of his cock, I pull my panties to the side. I let him rub against my slit, and he closes his eyes, clenching his jaw. “Maybe I want those consequences?”
“Fuck, Maeve,” he curses, dropping his forehead to mine. “Really? Right here?”
“Can’t think of a better place,” I quip, reminding him of the time he took me in a puddle of blood, while my abuser lay dead beside us.
I continue to tease him, and he rocks with me, hips seeking more. Having the most dangerous man in the Northeast under me, pinned and helpless, feels better than any torture session. Better than any chocolate pastry. This is power—raw, perfect power.
