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“Jesus fuck,” I grit out. Pinning her down, my fingers dug into her hips hard enough to leave bruises. The pain of it was enough to send her spiraling with a scream. “That’s it, baby girl. Fuck, you feel so good around my cock.”
Whatever words she tried to say were lost in a euphoric groan as I reached under her and sought out her clit, pinching her piercing hard. Teeth hard in her skin, fingers rubbing fast on her clit, and my pace relentless.
“Keep going, princess,” I whispered against her skin. “I want it all. Make a mess of my fucking dick, baby girl.”
Molten heat held my spine hostage as my release chased up on me. I thrust faster and harder, driving her down into the bed while my hold on her was unforgiving. I tampered down on my control, keeping it at bay as best I could, but I was racing up to the point of no return.
“I need you to fucking come for me, princess.” To help her along, I snaked a hand around her neck and closed it tight. Cutting off her airways was the catalyst that did her in. Her body shuddered under me, and her pussy held my dick in a fucking death grip as she shattered for me.
I was on fire, my muscles taut as I went with her. One, two, three more thrusts, and I fucking lost control, burying myself as deep inside her as I could, my dick jerking as I came hard.
My head fell to her shoulder with a quiet groan. Her rapid breathing matched mine. I slid my hand out from under her and undid the cuff around one hand, bringing her fingers to my lips.
“Tell me where you’re at, Genevieve,” I asked quietly. A satisfied giggle was my only response. “Are you okay?”
“Very,” she whispered. Turning, I pressed feather-light kisses to her cheek, doting on her as I let my body regulate. I needed a moment before I started our aftercare routine. Her hand slipped from mine and threaded through my hair, offering the same comfort I gave her.
Chapter 105
Genevieve
Despite how late it was, Killian took aftercare seriously, which was how I ended up in a hot bath listening to him play guitar as he sat on the bathroom floor next to me. The lavender of my nighttime bubble bath steamed in the air while I leaned over the side to stare at my husband. I was thoroughly fucked, my hair combed out and braided for me, gently washed head-to-toe, and left to melt in the comfort of it all. Every part of me was relaxed to the point that I was putty where I sat.
Killian, on the other hand, was wound up tight in his thoughts. Shirtless with a guitar in his hands was one of my favorite ways to see him. Usually, he enjoyed it, but he wasn’t. His strumming was muscle memory, and he was a million miles away from me.
“You’re doing it again,” I whispered. He made a small sound, glancing at me. I brushed a wet finger down between his brows. “You’ve got your thinking wrinkles.”
Whenever he was deep in his own thoughts, working out a puzzle, three wrinkles popped up between his brows. I adored them.
“Ah, those,” Killian replied. “Don’t worry about it, princess. This is about you.”
“This is about us,” I corrected. “Please. Don’t check out on me.”
He sighed, and I could see the way he debated doing just that. I silently prayed he wouldn’t.
“The lavender of your bubble bath reminds me of when I got fucking stabbed,” he said. I just nodded like I understood. I knew the scars on his body, and he’d shared a handful of his stories with me, but I had a feeling there was so much more to it. “Right before the Fall Games, I was supposed to do a snatch and grab—”
“It’s not really called that, is it?” I interrupted.
“No.” He chuckled. “It’s just what our unit got used to calling human bounties. They’re fucking easy to sweep up when you’re used to dealing with the real shit that can kill you. Though, there was a guy in Texas who gave me a hell of a run—you know what, I’ll save that story for another day.”
“Of course.” Because why not? “You got stabbed…”
Was this our life now? Just casual conversations of my husband getting stabbed? I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about that.
“I got stabbed, Roan ate all my hospital jello, and honestly I didn’t fucking give any of it a second thought,” he continued. “Hell, cases always get reassigned when someone gets hurt, so I just had to fucking worry about seeing you again.”
“How does my bubble bath make you think of that?” I frowned.
“It was the hunter,” Killian said quietly. “I know who the hunter is.”
How a single sentence could so horrifically transform a mood was beyond me, but it did. I sank further into the water, suddenly cold.
“Why did he let you live?”
“She,” he corrected. “The hunter is a woman.”
“I want to make a joke about you having a problem with getting your ass kicked by women,” I commented before I could stop myself. He paused strumming to glare at me.
