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“Ah, ah. Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not—”
He shifts, shoving a digit inside of me in a single, harsh thrust; I can almost feel him in my throat. “Who sent you here?”
“No one.” My chest heaves, my brain on the verge of blacking out entirely, as a pang of desire builds where he strokes me. “I came on my own.”
Bringing his other hand between my thighs, I watch as he strums over my clit with his free thumb, making my hips buck off the bed as sensation returns to my extremities. But it’s not a controllable sensation—in fact, I’m pretty sure the only one in control of my body is Kieran.
Swallowing, he adds three more fingers, eyes glued to the movement. And even though we’re going from zero to a hundred without even so much as a kiss, I can’t stifle the moan that rips from my throat as he stuffs his fist as far inside me as it’ll go, the thumb on his opposite hand still moving in lazy circles.
I feel full, a fuzziness throbbing in my belly, and stars dance across my vision like I’m staring at the naked night sky.
Kal, still standing off to the side but turned away from the bed, is completely forgotten. I toss my head into the pillow beneath me as Kieran increases the speed of his pumps; they turn angry, punishing, and the look in his eyes sets me off.
The way those green orbs flare, pupils dilating as he works me, scraping against my inner walls and pressing into that sweet spot, tells me he’s on the edge of control. That he’s slipping, losing the civilized part of him that keeps him from hurting me.
From taking me.
My lips part, my pussy fluttering around his hand as lightning zips through my body, setting every nerve ending on fire. Pain mixes with pleasure as a blinding hunger powers through me, tunneling from my toes to the top of my spine.
I undulate completely when he pinches my clit, making my entire body convulse with the euphoric force. My heart spasms with the come-down, and I lie there, still unable to do anything butfeel, as he continues thrusting into me.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful when you come.” He pistons his wrist, slowing his speed but upping the vigor, almost like he’s trying to hurt me. My core clenches around him, and he groans, shifting his weight so he’s on top of me again. “Christ, kitten, you’re tight. Keep doing that and I might have to fuck you before you’ve recovered.”
“You can’t—”
“I could,” he interrupts, yanking his hand from me just as I’m nearing the edge of another release, leaving me empty and aching. I whimper as he brings his fingers to his lips, his tongue darting out and gliding along each digit, licking my obvious arousal off him. “If Kal weren’t here. I don’t want him seeing me fill you with my cum, though. Don’t want him to see how my dirty girl gets off on that shit.”
Kal scoffs, the sound soft and almost inaudible.
My heart swells, my stomach lurching into my throat, at the image of him taking me raw, spilling inside me. It’s such a primal, animalistic fantasy, and it makes my head swim and toes flex with renewed desire.
“And I would, you know. Stuff that tight little cunt so full that when I finished, I’d leak out of your fucking mouth.” He grins, releasing his index finger with a loud, succulent pop, and extends his arm down to me, brushing against my own lips with the same hand. “Open, baby. Taste how bittersweet those lies make you.”
The figure in front of me morphs again as I try to press my lips together, the edges of his skin zigzagging against the pulsating walls behind him. I fight him—fight the thick darkness towering over me, threatening to drag me by my ankles to Hell—and then everything’s blurring, webbing together in an impossible gradient of color, exploding behind my eyelids just as he breaches my mouth.
I’m relaunched into the stratosphere, staring down at my body—alone in the cottage bedroom, leggings up and untouched around my waist, eyes hazy and unfocused, body numb and vacant.
As if he never burned me in the first place.
Chapter 11
Kieran
Kal slams the front door, dragging a hand through his hair, tugging on the ends as he paces the porch. Relaxing into my chair, a green portable folding contraption I dug out from the crawlspace, I take a swig of my beer, watching him.
He stops after a pregnant silence, turning and placing his hands on his hips. The trench coat he has on makes him look an entire foot taller than me, and it seems to glow against his golden skin. “You know she thinks you’re in there, right?”
“What?”
“She’s having a goddamn hallucination. Eyes constantly flickering back and forth, completely unfocused, trying her best to move her body around. I’m hearing half of an entire conversation she thinks she’s having, but she has no idea that she’s in there completely alone and unable to move a muscle other than her mouth.” He frowns, his stare hard. Livid. “This is fucked, even for you.”
Regret pulls the tendons in my chest tight, pain coursing through them, but I ignore it. Stamp it down, shove it in with the weight of my other mistakes. Digging the heels of my boots into the soft dirt beneath me, I shrug, feigning nonchalance. “How an intruder reacts to a drug, mydefense, is not my problem.”
“She’s half your size, kid. All you had to do was open the closet and show her you knew she was here. Hell, you could’ve easily overpowered her and just tied her to the bed.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he glares at me. “As a doctor, I can’t—and don’t—condone this kind of shit.”
“But you condone standard torture and murder. Good to know where you draw the line, I guess.”
