by Ella Miles
I kiss down her neck until I’m licking down her clavicle. She shifts underneath me as I move closer to the upper curve of her breast.
“And your curves drive me wild, Liesel.”
I find her first nipple with my teeth, teasing it gently as I swirl my tongue along the tip. When I move to the second, she arches her back and sinks her hand into my hair, becoming even more breathless.
“You still with me?” I smile around her other nipple. I want her to feel amazing, but I also need her able to talk. It’s a fine balance.
She groans.
“I’m going to need an actual answer, or I might have to stop.” I flick her nipple with my tongue.
“Fuck,” she curses.
“That’s better, baby.”
I continue my way down her body, kissing over her stomach. I take my time here, still not convinced she’s not pregnant. Her questions from earlier about wanting a biological child of my own pop into my head. My hopes of her being pregnant have nothing to do with my own feelings. Although, it does make me possessive as hell to think I put a baby in her belly. I hope she’s pregnant because she missed out on so much with the kids’ early days. She should get to experience that.
She notices that I spend extra time on her belly.
“I hate you,” she says, once again avoiding saying the real words. I almost regret starting the hate you line.
We are getting close, baby. Just say the actual words.
“You’re the most incredible mother. This whole time you’ve been protecting them, loving them. Just fucking amazing.”
I spread her legs, deciding she’s earned my attention on her most sensitive area—the part she’s been trying to push me toward with her hand in my hair and the arch of her back.
I lick up her slit.
“Jesus, Langston.”
There’s my girl.
I hold her legs apart as I find her clit with my tongue and swirl around it. She bends her knees, and her legs fall further open, giving me better access. My tongue pushes inside her, finding her soaking before I lick her clit again and again.
“You taste so sweet. And yet, you are the strongest woman I know.”
I slide two fingers inside her, intensifying her pleasure before I make her come. I barely push inside her before I feel her clenching around me. Her nails dig into my skull as she grips my hair. She moans and screams my name, but nothing for her feelings for me.
Before she’s finished her orgasm, I settle between her legs, and my cock slides inside her contracting pussy.
Her eyes roll back, but I kiss her lips calmly as I stop after one thrust inside her. I’m going to move slowly, so she feels everything. I want her to have time to feel every emotion and articulate them before I have her losing her mind.
“Look at me,” I say.
She takes her time, but eventually, her bright eyes are staring into mine.
I rock into her gently.
“You’re mine.”
She bites her lip at my words. I’m not sure she truly believes me.
“Say it.”
“I’m yours.”
I nod, kissing her again as I slide through her slick walls again.
“And you’re mine,” she says, unprompted.
Good girl.
I rub my thumb over her clit in slow circles.
“You’re intoxicatingly beautiful.”
“You’re frustratingly handsome.”
Yes, this is how I get her to say ‘I love you.’ She’ll follow whatever I say, but can I tell her that I love her? Can I tell her and protect her at the same time?
My heart pounds wildly in my chest until I’m sure she can tell how nervous I am. I’ve never told a woman I loved her, but I know without a shadow of a doubt that I love Liesel. I always have; I’ve just been looking for any excuse that I can to not love her. Now, I can’t stop loving her.
“You were the first person to have a nickname for me,” I kiss her.
I rock into her as slowly as I can muster, trying to draw this out, but damn, is my cock obsessed with her. I won’t last nearly as long as I want.
“You are the only person to ever have a nickname for me,” she says against my lips.
I thrust harder.
“Only your kids could feel like mine.”
“Only you could take care of my kids like they were your own.”
More—more of everything.
“Only your fierceness could be enough to tame me.”
“Only your strength could be enough to own me.”
SO. FUCKING. CLOSE.
“I hate you,” I kiss her, trying to hold our orgasms back for a couple more seconds.
“And I hate you.” She nips at my bottom lip.
It’s now or never.
Say it!
NOW.
“I—I lov—”
Her lips press against mine, hard.
Our tongues swarm each other. Our breaths combine. Our bodies slam together as we reach our climaxes.
We shake from the aftermath, tremble in each other’s arms.
Our lips are still locked together, so I gently pull them apart.
I failed.
I didn’t get her to say ‘I love you,’ and I didn’t say it myself.
She smiles up at me, and the moment is over. Her brain is working again. If I say ‘I love you’ now, she’ll just think I’m crazy, and she won’t say it back.
I have to find a different way.
She’s expecting the worst, not for me to tell her I love her.
She’s prepared for the nightmare, not the dream.
I consider my options. Liesel is a stubborn woman who will refuse to admit her love for me. She’s scared, and I’m not even sure she realizes what her feelings are for me. She says she’s not capable of falling in love with anyone.
“What?” She frowns up at me, her eyes searching mine for what’s going on in my head.
I lick my lips, trying to buy myself time, trying to think of another way—I can’t. I’ve tried everything else. I promised I wouldn’t hurt Liesel, but sometimes the only way to reveal the love in a person’s heart is to cause their heart to bleed.
“I’m sorry,” I say, knowing what I must do.
“Do your worst,” she says, and then she kisses me hard on the lips.
Oh, huntress, you have no idea what my worst is. You call me killer for a reason. I’m about to murder your heart and hope that when you are picking up the pieces, you realize your true feelings.
24
Liesel
We just made love.
That’s what Langston was going for—a romantic night filled with hot, dirty sex. Then breakfast in bed, followed by slow lovemaking and a declaration of his love.
It was beautiful, magical. I could feel his love in every kiss, every touch, every breath.
He poured everything he had into showing me with his body just how much he loves me. I just couldn’t let him do it with his words.
For years I’ve managed to keep him hating me for real. I just have to keep him from loving me for a little bit longer.
I told him to do his worst, so I’m preparing for it, even as his naked body still lies on top of mine. Even in the afterglow of what just passed between us, I know what comes next is going to hurt like a motherfucker. It’s going to hurt worse than anything that happened to me in that game, on that yacht, when I was raped—all of it combined because Langston is going to be the one hurting me.
He thought it would make it easier on us if he said he loves me, easier to heal after he’s done the terrible task he has to do for the treasure. We would be more connected if he said the words, but I know that’s not true.
Words said or not; I’ve already fucked up. I already let us get too close. I’m just hoping that whatever way he has to torture me now will break both of our hearts enough that we can’t possibly stay together.
For once, I hope my father came up with some wicked game to ruin us.
I
run through all the things that Langston could do to prepare myself. If I could force my heart to break first, I’d do it, but I can’t. Langston is the only one who has that power over me. And once he does destroy my heart, I have to be careful not to let either of our hearts break again.
Could he fuck another woman in front of me?
Could he break up with me, divorce me?
Take my kids away from me?
Physically hurt me? Rape me?
Each image plays in my head. I feel the pain; I feel my heart expanding in each instance, pushing it to its limits. I see it getting stabbed, ripped, cracked, but it never fully breaks.
Because I love him unconditionally; I love him wholly. Despite what he does, he’s doing it to save our child, not because he wants to hurt me. There is nothing he can do that will make me stop loving him.
Fuck, if this is how I feel, I’m sure Langston feels the same. I don’t know what it’s going to take to get rid of our love, but I’m going to figure it out.
Langston closes his eyes as his body continues to pin me to the deck of the sailboat. When they open, there’s a wicked fire. He’s flipped a switch inside. Before, he was a man; now, he’s the devil.
I purse my lips and try to breathe to control my heartbeat, not that I’ve been able to control my fucked up heart before. I already know I’m a goner. Is dying by love a real thing that can happen? If so, I’m going to die from loving Langston too much.
I’m rambling in my head, trying to process this moment to keep it separate from what happened earlier tonight. Maybe whatever Langston has to do will break him hard enough that he won’t be able to be in the same room as me. He will stay away from me, and distance will make our love fade.
I bite my lip as he rubs himself against me.
Nope, I don’t think there is anything that will make me stop loving him. The only way our love is dying is tragically, without the words ever being said out loud.
“Stop trying to guess what I’m going to do, huntress. You don’t have a clue.” The sinful gleam in his eyes tells me I don’t.
He leans forward and whispers in my ear, “And to make sure you don’t fuck up my plans, I’m going to tie you to the mast.”
“You shouldn’t have told me your plan.”
“I didn’t even tell you half of my plan.”
“You told me enough.” I squeeze my legs tight, trapping his junk before I knee him hard.
“Jesus,” he groans as he rolls off me.
I grin and run.
I’m just delaying the inevitable, but I want him to do whatever he has to do with my arms and legs free. I don’t think I can handle giving up so much control in my moment of torture.
There aren’t many places to run on this boat. My choices are to jump overboard or head down into the below decks. I decide to head down, knowing he’ll catch me if I jump into the water.
There are six steps down that lead down to a short hallway and one door. I pop the door open and then throw it shut, slamming my body against the door as I flip the lock. I press my ear against the door, listening carefully.
I listen for his footsteps down the stairs or in the hallway, but I hear nothing.
Strange.
I hold my breath, thinking the sound of my breathing is affecting my ability to hear, but I still hear nothing. Then again, Langston can move silently.
I expect him to start kicking down the door any second now, but he doesn’t.
He’s messing with my head; I think, after twenty minutes have passed, and he hasn’t made any attempt to come after me.
I slink to the floor and pull my knees to my chest as I continue to rest my ear against the door, waiting.
“Waiting for me?” Langston says from behind me.
I jump.
It’s too late—Langston has me pinned to the door.
“How did you get in here?”
“I have to have some secrets,” he winks at me as he growls and pins my hands above my head. My hips are trapped against the door with his.
“Don’t even think about trying to knee me again.”
He leans in close, and I bite at his lip. “How about if I bite?”
“I can handle the biting,” he gruff.
Kiss me, I think.
Our naked bodies are pressed against each other, and even though we fucked all night and again this morning, I can’t get enough. Maybe it’s because I know our time is running out, or maybe it’s because it’s him.
He possesses my body as he breathes into me. His nostrils flare—maybe in anger, or maybe in preparation for another attack.
I feel the familiar wetness drip between my legs. I can’t believe I’m getting turned on from him manhandling me, even knowing that what he’s doing now is just the tip of what’s to come.
He steps back and yanks me away from the door before he kicks once hard against the door. The door falls easily. If only our hearts broke as easily.
He grabs my wrists, but I’m able to slip one out.
He pulls.
I pound on his back with my free fist and dig my heels into the ground, making it almost impossible for him to drag me out of the room.
He murmurs something in a gruff voice I can’t make out.
Then he yanks me to him in one jolt.
I move my punches to his head, determined not to let him tie me up. If he wants to hurt me, he’s going to have to do it while I’m free.
He shakes his head. “You’ll never learn. You’re mine, huntress. You hunt while I go in for the kill. Tonight, you’re the one I kill.”
He lets go of my wrist, and I know what he’s going to do. It’s too late, though. He’s faster than me.
I try to run back into the room, but he grabs my calves and flips me over his shoulder.
“Langston! Put me down!”
I flail my arms, pounding into his back, his ass, anything I can reach. He doesn’t let go. I dig my nails and teeth into his back, but no amount of pain that will make him put me down. He’s decided how he wants to do this, and for some reason he thinks it will be easier if I’m tied up.
I have to think of another way.
I stop fighting, saving my energy as he carries me up the stairs.
The sun hits my back, and once again, I hear the waves of the ocean as the boat rocks gently. He’s going to have to set me down to try and tie me up, so my only other choice is to jump into the ocean.
I take slow, deep breaths, trying to prepare my lungs for a long shot. If I can swim back to the island or to one of the other yachts, then maybe Langston will give up on trying to tie me up. He’ll feel like we are running out of time and just get on with whatever horrible thing he has to do.
“If you are going to hurt me physically, you don’t have to tie me up to do it. I can take it.”
“I know,” he says as he sets me down. By the tone of his voice, I know he’s not going to change his mind. He still thinks he has to tie me up first.
So the second that my feet hit the ground again, I run as hard as I can in a straight line toward the side of the boat. I dive under the water, holding my breath for as long as I can. I pretend I’m a dolphin free in the ocean, even though I’m as far as you can get from being free.
I pop up finally when I run out of oxygen, but I can already feel Langston behind me. He knew what I was going to do.
He catches me in two strokes, wrapping his arms around me so I can’t swim anymore. I’m relying on him completely to keep us above water.
He leans down and kisses me, sweeping me away. We’re floating away in the ocean, away from all the heartbreak that awaits us.
He kisses me harder, his tongue rocking like the waves in my mouth. My heart thaws, my body relaxes. My mind tries to remind me of something, but I can’t think why my brain would need to interrupt me right now.
And then I’m being hauled up. My body is no longer in the ocean, but my lips are still locked against Langston’s as we both breathe hard into each other’s mouths.
His eyes are filled with guilt. Finally, I feel it—the rope around my wrists. He’s tied them together without me even realizing. He used his kisses as a weapon to control me, and I fell for it.
I swear I see a teardrop as he lifts my arms above my head and ties me to the pole.
“Killer,” I plead in a whisper, but I stop fighting. He’s already won.
He ties each of my ankles with a rope until they are spread apart.
My body reacts immediately, thinking that we are going to fuck instead of whatever horrible thing is going to happen next. My nipples pucker, wetness spreads between my legs, and my body heats.
He steps in front of me like he’s trying to decide what he does next. He doesn’t have any sort of weapon in his hand, which is a good sign, but I have no clues as to what dark sin he’s about to commit.
“One more time,” he brushes his lips against mine. “I just need you one more time first.”
One more time until what?
I can’t ask because his lips are against mine again, and his fingers are cupping my sex, spreading my wetness over my sensitive nub. I should keep my wits about me. After all, him kissing me last time was how I lost, but I don’t care. I can’t not kiss him, so I put everything into the kiss.
I don’t know why Langston feels like this could be one of our last times, but he does, and I’m not going to let one time go to waste.
I can’t move, being tied and naked to this pole, but it doesn’t matter. Langston is the master of my body. He knows how to turn me on, how to bring me to the edge, how to slow me down, so I don’t come too fast. He knows everything—even how to make me forget that I’m supposed to be fighting him, that I can’t love him.
When he kisses my lips, I moan.
When he teases my nipples, I groan.
When he pinches my clit, I see stars.
“I could listen to the sound of you coming forever.”
“You should.”
He kisses me tenderly again, sucking on my bottom lip. “Maybe I’ll keep you tied up naked forever, so I can always have my way with you, whenever I want you.”
“Maybe,” I say in a daze.
