Page 59 of Reckless Desires

“You wanted this? You're going to get it." His voice is low, dangerous. He strips down to nothing.

I should be scared, but my body isn’t trembling from fear—it’s from needing this more than anything, even though I don’t understand why. He places a knee on the sofa in between my legs and hovers over me. Taking the string of my tampon, he pulls it out and tosses it somewhere.

Killian smirks, a predator's grin, and trails fingers of his free hand down my body, circling my nipple but not touching. "So responsive. Look how hard they are for me."

I arch my back, silently begging for contact. He chuckles, finally pinching my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The sharp pleasure-pain makes me gasp. He rolls the sensitive bud, tugging until I'm writhing beneath him. Then slides between my legs, fingers teasing my lips before entering a finger.

“Now how are you going to go back to your perfect life after I’m done with you?”

I have no words. He adds a second finger, stretching me. The heel of his hand grinds against my clit. I'm so close already, embarrassingly close. My thighs start to shake.

"Don't you dare come," he growls, withdrawing his hand completely. "Not until I say so."

I whine in protest, but he's already moving down my body. His mouth closes over my nipple, sucking hard. One hand returns to my pussy, spreading me open while the other holds my hip down. His teeth scrape against my sensitive flesh.

"Killian..." I gasp his name.

He bites down sharply. His tongue soothes the sting. "I don’t care how close you are. You don't get to decide when you come. I do." He tugs at the leash.

Three fingers push inside me now, pumping faster. His thumb circles my clit with maddening precision. The pressure builds, hot and tight in my belly. I try to hold back, to obey, but my body betrays me.

"Please, I can’t hold out anymore." The words tear from my throat.

His fingers curl, hitting that perfect spot again and again. "Not yet."

Tears of frustration leak from my eyes. I'm so close, hovering on the edge. Every nerve ending screams for release. His mouth moves to my other breast, giving it the same treatment—licking, sucking, biting.

"Such a messy little slut," he murmurs against my skin. "Dripping all over my fingers. You want it that bad, don't you?"

I can only nod, words beyond me now. He adds a fourth finger, stretching me almost painfully. The fullness is overwhelming. His thumb presses harder on my clit, rubbing in tight circles.

"If you give up now," he says, tugging the chain again, "I’m going to whip those ass cheeks until they bleed."

If that is a threat, he failed. “Promise,” I pant.

His eyes are dark as though he wants me to disobey. “Are you willing to find out?” He applies more pressure to my clit and relentlessly finger fucks me, testing whether I’m bluffing.

I let my orgasm crash through me, violent and overwhelming. I scream as waves of pleasure wrack my body, pussy clamping down on his fingers. Wetness gushes out.

Killian doesn't stop. He keeps pumping his fingers, drawing out my pleasure until I'm sobbing from overstimulation. Only then does he withdraw, bringing his glistening fingers, a mixture of what’s come out of me, to my lips.

"Taste yourself," he orders.

I lick his fingers clean, sucking them into my mouth. His cock twitches against my thigh, hard and ready. My own arousal spikes again despite the intensity of my orgasm.

He pulls his fingers from my mouth with a wet pop. "Now we're really going to have some fun."

Chapter Forty-One

Lily

“Over,” he says. His voice is quiet, but it holds a new, dangerous edge, the kind when you’ve disappointed someone. It makes my stomach clench with a mixture of dread and a dark, thrilling anticipation.

I scramble to obey, rolling onto my stomach. His hands grab my hips and lift me up onto my hands and knees again, presenting my ass to him while my face is buried in a pillow. I feel the softness of his hand running over my skin, a gentle, almost caressing touch that does nothing to soothe the frantic beating of my heart.

“You came,” he states. It’s not a question. “You think I’m bluffing when I say I’ll make your cheeks bleed?”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, the words muffled by the pillow.