Page 39 of Reckless Desires

It is all the encouragement he needs. He drives into me in one hard, deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt. I cry out, a sharp, guttural sound of pain and pleasure as he stretches me open, filling me completely. The cramp in my belly flares, mingling with the exquisite sensation of being so utterly possessed.

He sets a brutal pace, fucking me into the muddy ground. Each thrust is deep and powerful, his hips slapping against my ass with a wet, rhythmic sound that is barely audible over the drumming of the rain. His hand still fists in my hair, holding me in place, while his other arm wraps around my waist, pulling me back to meet each punishing stroke.

"Is this what you wanted?" he snarls in my ear, his voice ragged. "To be chased? To be caught? To be fucked like a little animal in the dirt?"

I can't answer. I can only moan, pushing back against him, taking every inch of his thick cock as he pounds into me. The rain is pouring down now, washing the mud from my skin and mingling with the sweat on my body. My clit is a swollen, aching knot of need, and with every thrust, his pelvis grounds against it, sending sparks of electricity shooting through my veins.

He reaches around with his free hand, his fingers finding my clit. He rubs it in tight, hard circles, matching the rhythm of his hips. The added stimulation is too much. My body tenses, my inner walls clamping down around his dick as a powerful orgasm rips through me. I scream, my voice lost in the storm, as wave after wave of pleasure washes over me, so intense it’s almost painful.

My orgasm triggers his. He gives one final, deep thrust and roars his release, his hot cum flooding my insides. He collapses on top of me, his body a heavy, panting weight, his cock still twitching inside me as he empties himself completely.

We lie there for a long time, tangled together in the mud and the rain, our bodies slick with sweat and sex and water. The pain in my belly has faded to a dull throb, overshadowed by the lingering echoes of pleasure. I can feel his heart hammering against my back, a frantic, wild rhythm that matches my own. For a moment, there is only the sound of the rain and our ragged breaths. He won. And a treacherous part of me is glad he has.

My eyes flutter open and I try catching my breath. I’m confused how a dream like that could leave me aroused and aching. The dream was vivid, and I am repulsed by how badly I wish it were real. Images of a shirtless Killian invade my mind, making me bite my lip with anticipation. Is this considered Stockholm syndrome?

When I try to turn on my back, I hit something solid, making me freeze. Someone is in the bed with me. Slowly I turn my body, trying my best not to make the mattress move. Beside me is Killian, asleep. He has both his hands behind his head, every muscle extenuated. My eyes travel down his body and stop right where his morning erection lifts from the towel around his hips. The bulge is big and I can’t take my eyes off it.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Killian

My eyes flutter open, and the sound of light and low panting fills my ears. Beside me, Liliana lies on her side facing me, just staring at my morning wood. Her dark hair spreads across the pillow like a stain. Her eyes are open, fixed on my crotch. And her hand is between her legs, moving in slow circles beneath the thin cotton of the towel that has a spot of blood. The fabric shifts with her movements, outlining the shape of her fingers pressing against her pussy.

My cock throbs, a pulse of heat that makes me grit my teeth.

Killian, don’t.

I close my eyes again, hoping she will finish quickly, but everything comes crashing when I hear her moan.

Fuck it. I open my eyes.

"Need help?" My voice comes out rougher than intended.

She freezes. Her hand stops moving, but she doesn't pull it away. Her eyes snap up to mine, wide and dark. For a second, I expect her to make some cutting remark, to roll over and pretend this never happened.

Instead, her tongue darts out, wetting her bottom lip before biting it. When I untuck the towel from my waist and remove it, letting my cock free, I notice her breathing picks up.

I shift onto my side, facing her fully. My dick presses against the mattress, demanding attention. The air between us thickens, charged with something that feels like electricity and frustration and pure, undiluted lust. I reach out, my fingers brushing against her wrist. Her skin is hot, damp with sweat.

"Let me help you with that."

She pulls back slightly. "I’m bleeding.”

I raise an eyebrow. "And?" I trail my fingers up her arm, watching the goosebumps rise in their wake. “You already made a mess on the sheets.”

"Because…" she hesitates, her cheeks flushing.

I move closer, close enough that I can feel the warmth of her breath on my face. "You think that bothers me?"

"It should bother you." But her voice lacks conviction. "It's messy."

"I like messy." I slide my hand down her side, over the curve of her hip.

Her breath catches when my fingers find where her towel was tucked around her chest. "You're disgusting."

"It will help with your pain." I tug at the fabric, watching her breasts bust free while, in one swift motion, I roll onto her, and she rolls onto her back. Her legs open, letting my body rest in between them.

She wants this as much as I do. I see it in her eyes and feel the heat radiating off her skin. I dip my head toward her head.