Page 107 of Third Strike Smitten

“Look at me, Isla,” he commands softly.

I lift my head, meeting his gaze over the landscape of my body. His eyes are dark with desire, but there’s something else there too, something tender and real that makes my heart ache. I gasp when I feel Killian’s warm tongue trace circles around my entrance, his hands gripping my hips as he devours me. My body arches off the bed, a desperate moan escaping my lips as Killian’s tongue works its magic.

“Oh, my God, yes, Killian. Just like that.”

He hums against me, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure through my core. His tongue delves deeper, tasting me, claiming me, and I’m lost in the sensation of being so thoroughly wanted. The pleasure builds quickly, a tight coil of sensation that threatens to snap at any moment, but Killian doesn’t let up. His tongue finds my clit and doubles down, flicking, licking, sucking, until my vision blurs.

“I don’t ever want to go a day without tasting the best pussy I have ever eaten again. Do you hear me? Never. Again.”

When his fingers join his mouth, sliding inside me with practiced ease, I cry out, my hips bucking against his face.

“Never again!” I hear myself repeating his words as the pressure builds, a frantic screaming tension that threatens to rip me apart.

When my first orgasm hits, it crashes over me like a wave, stealing my breath and leaving me trembling in its wake. Killian takes every drop and then some. When he finally pulls back, he presses a gentle kiss to my inner thigh and then moves back up my body. His skin, hot against mine, his erection pressing insistently against my hip. I reach between us, wrapping my fingers around him, feeling the cool metal of his piercings against my palm.

“Fuck…” he gasps at my touch.

“I’ve got you,” I promise him, my fingers still wrapped around him, feeling the weight of him in my palm. “Let me take care of you.”

Killian’s breath comes in short, sharp pants as his head tips back, a low groan escaping his throat while I stroke him slowly, remembering the feel of the smooth beads against my fingertips. The cool metal is a stark contrast to the heat of his skin, and I find myself fascinated by the way his whole body responds to my touch, the subtle hitch in his breath, the way his jaw goes slack.

“Isla,” he groans, his hips bucking slightly into my hand. “You don’t have to⁠—”

“I want to,” I interrupt, my voice firm despite the tremor in my fingers. “I want to feel you.”

When his gaze finds mine again, dark and hazy with desire, what I see written across his face makes my heart stutter. Love, need, vulnerability, all of it laid bare and almost too much to hold.

“Then feel me,” he urges, his voice rough with want. “Feel all of me.” His arm reaches past me toward the nightstand drawer and I catch it, pressing his hand flat against the mattress.

“No condoms, Kill. I want to feel you. Just you.”

His whole body goes still. “You’re…you’re sure?”

“Just this once. Please, Killian.”

I know the risks. And I know I should probably be more responsible, but I don’t care. There’s a desperate need for me to be able to experience feeling him inside me, claiming me. Making me his. And when he settles between my legs again, his eyes lock with mine, I feel something shift between us. Something fundamental and irreversible.

“I love you,” he proclaims again, the words a prayer against my lips as he positions himself at my entrance.

My heart pounds so hard I’m certain he can feel it against his chest. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing him to understand what I can’t say. “I know,” I breathe, my voice breaking. “I know you do.”

“Look at me, Isla,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I want to see your face when I’m inside you.”

I meet his intense gaze and all I want to do is cry. He’s giving me everything—his heart, his body, his soul—and asking for nothing in return. He pushes inside me slowly, inch by devastating inch, and the sensation is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. The cool metal of his piercings creates a unique friction against my walls, a rolling, textured pleasure that makes my toes curl. Without the barrier of the condom, I can feel every ridge, every vein, every subtle movement of his cock inside me.

“Oh God,” I gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders. “Killian...”

“Fuck, Isla,” Killian groans, his forehead dropping to mine. “You feel so fucking good.”

I can only nod, words beyond me as he fills me completely. The intimacy of skin against skin, of feeling him so deeply, overwhelming my senses.

This isn’t just sex anymore.

This is something sacred.

When he’s fully seated inside me, we both still, our breathing ragged and synchronized. The connection is so intense it feels like we’re sharing the same heartbeat. I can feel him pulsing within me, his cock twitching as we breath and then he begins to move.

His hips roll against mine in a rhythm that feels like it was made just for us. Each thrust is deliberate, worshipful, his eyes never leaving mine.