Killian

by Brenda Rothert

  Sidney

  Last night’s phone conversation had made it clear Killian was nervous about us, which made me feel awful. He heard the tension in my voice even though I tried to hide it. The last thing he needed right now was to take on my problems. I’d thought about telling him my tension wasn’t about him, but that would mean admitting there was a source of tension. And, right now, that was not something I wanted to admit.

  I’d been watching his game on TV at my apartment tonight, and I’d burst into tears when he’d scored. It was his first NHL goal, and I should’ve been there. I wanted to be there, but I knew if I’d gone I wouldn’t’ve been able to hide my stressed-out state. I might have a perfect poker face for business, but when it came to Killian my face was an open book. I would have broken down the minute I saw him.

  I needed to resolve this ‘situation’ before telling him about it. The trouble was, I didn’t have the first clue about what to do about it.

  Two glasses of wine and many tears later, I was huddling under my covers when he called for the second time.

  I did my best to sound upbeat, “Hey, Captain. Great game tonight.”

  “You’ve been crying again,” he said, cutting straight to the chase. “I can hear it in your voice.”

  “Really?”

  “Sid, don’t bullshit me. I’ve waited too long to have this with someone and I’m not watching it slip away without a fight. Either tell me what the hell is going on, or I’m getting in a car and driving to Fenway right fucking now.”

  I cringed, realizing I hadn’t spared him any worry. Instead I’d created needless concern about our relationship.

  “It’s not you, I promise. I love you more than ever.”

  “So what are you saying? I should get a car?” Now I could hear the tension in his voice.

  I held back a smile. He was reminding me of me right now.

  “Alright, I’ll tell you,” I said, gathering my courage. “God, I hate this. It’s so embarrassing.”

  “Just spill it. I’m going out of my mind here, Sid.”

  “A few years ago, when I was in college, I went on a trip to the south of France with some friends. All the girls sunbathed topless on the yacht we were on. Hell, everybody in France bathes topless. Anyway, I hadn’t thought about it since, until someone emailed me a topless photo of myself the other day. I’m sitting on the yacht, holding a beer, and looking like a total lush, which is so not me.”

  “Sid, wait a sec, I’m not following you…was it one of your friends who sent the photo?”

  “I wish,” I muttered. “It was taken by somebody on another boat. It was sent anonymously with a request for half a million dollars.”

  “Someone’s blackmailing you?” His incredulous tone had a harsh chill to it.

  “Well, they’re trying to, yes.”

  “Can we track this guy down at all? I’d love to drop by his house and meet him.”

  My heart swelled at his use of the word ‘we’. I’d been feeling desperate and alone ever since the email had arrived, and his support made me weak with relief.

  “I tried tracking the email. It originated in India, but I’m sure that’s not where he’s at.”

  “Can’t it be tracked any further?”

  I laid down on my couch and closed my eyes. “No. I haven’t been open with you about how much of a computer nerd I am because it’s not exactly sexy. I’m pretty good at this stuff and I’ve spent hours on this. I even sent the email to my IT guys at Firestorm. Nothing. If I agree to send the money, we’ll have something to work with. We can trace him through whatever account number he sends me.”

  “You can’t pay him off, Sid. He’ll be back for more money.”

  “I know, but…I kind of see the value of buying some time.”

  “What good would that do?” he asked.

  “You’re just getting established with the new team. And our relationship only recently went public. The timing is so awful. It makes me sick to think of nude photos of your girlfriend coming out right now. After you’ve worked to improve your image – at my suggestion – I end up being the one to ruin it.”

  “Hey, you’re not ruining anything. So I have a beautiful girlfriend that some dude shot topless photos of without her knowing – so what? I don’t want other people seeing that much of you, but this isn’t your fault.”

  After a few seconds of silence, I spoke. “What should I do?”

  “Don’t even respond to the asshole. Let him do whatever he’s gonna do. And, for fuck’s sake, why didn’t you tell me about this sooner? Didn’t I say you should call me when you need me?”

  “I wanted to handle it myself. I thought it would worry you.”

  “You’re not by yourself anymore, Sid. I’m all in and I need to know you are, too.”

  “I am. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I love you, Killian.”

  “I love you, too. It’s gonna be okay. I wish I was there with you. I hate the thought of you going to bed alone when you’re upset.”

  “I’m okay now.” I took a cleansing breath, getting up and walking toward my kitchen for a glass of wine. “I’m actually better than okay.”

  “Yeah, why is that?”

  “Because you scored tonight.”

  There was a smile in his voice. “I did. And tomorrow’s an off day. I’ll be at your place when you get home from work.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  “Neither can I. Now get some rest. You’re gonna need it.”

  ***

  Killian’s Jeep was parked outside my apartment, so I knew he was here already. A tingle of awareness spread through my body when I opened the front door and took in the faint hint of his leather and cologne scent.

  He was waiting for me in the kitchen. I walked around the corner and was greeted by the sight of his broad shoulders. A gray t-shirt was spread taut by the muscular lines of his back. He was chopping something at the island. The image of him standing in front of my stove aroused me more than knowing he awaited me in the bedroom.

  “Hey,” he said, turning to smile at me over his shoulder.

  The boyish grin reminded me how much I’d missed him. I walked over and wrapped my arms around him from behind, pressing my cheek to his back.

  “Hey,” I said, my desire for him temporarily overridden by a sense of contentment.

  “I’m making steak salads for dinner.”

  I peeked around his arm and saw that he was slicing avocado. The fresh scent of the vegetables and the savory smell of the steak made my stomach rumble with approval. I’d only had a doughnut for lunch.

  When I leaned up to kiss him, his lips lingered against mine.

  “How are you feeling?” he murmured.

  “Amazing, now that you’re here.”

  “Actually, I was referring to how you were feeling about that email situation. Have you heard anything more from that douchebag?”

  “No, I haven’t heard a thing. After talking with you I feel much stronger about the whole thing. Let him do his worst. I’ll be ready for him.”

  “That’s my girl.” Then, changing the topic he said, “Listen, we don’t have to do anything new and adventurous tonight if you’d rather wait, babe. I know you’re good for your promises.”

  “Wait? No, I don’t want to wait. I’m ready now. I mean, we can eat first, but…let’s make it quick.”

  He smiled and kissed me again.

  “Your cheeks are flushed,” he said. “Are you embarrassed or turned on?”

  “Turned on.”

  He made a low, satisfied sound and turned back to his dinner preparations. I got out the dishes, poured some wine and helped him get our meal on the table in record time.

  Nervous anticipation had kept me up late last night, and today’s workday had dragged on. With every decision I’d made at the office, I’d relished the idea of relinquishing control to Killian tonight.

  He was eating slowly, his expression of amusement making it clear he was deliberately stalling.
I was finished eating within ten minutes, and then I talked with him about hockey, the national news and the perks of vacationing in Ireland before finally jumping up from the table.

  “Stop torturing me,” I said, clearing dishes away from the table. “Aren’t you dying for this? Or is it just me?”

  His eyes were bright as he studied me. “Oh, I’m dying for it too, Sid. Even more so after watching you all flushed and fidgety for the past hour.”

  “Well, when?” I asked in an impatient tone. “Now?”

  “When what?” he asked, feigning innocence.

  I glared at him. “You know what.”

  “If I want you to say it, you better say it, baby.”

  My body was screaming for me to say whatever it took to get what I needed. “When are you going to fuck me?”

  He leaned against the kitchen counter, still looking way too pleased with himself. “When am I going to fuck you where?”

  “In my ass,” I said, never having envisioned myself wanting it, much less begging for it in the middle of my own kitchen.

  “Ah.” He reached around and slid a hand up the bottom of my skirt, squeezing one cheek roughly and then running his finger beneath my panties and down the crack of my ass.

  “Here? You want me here?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Right now?”

  “Killian,” I whimpered. “Yes.”

  He took my jaw between his thumb and forefinger, giving me a serious gaze. “You tell me when I need to stop. I’m gonna smack your ass and it’ll sting. And it’s gonna hurt when I fuck you there. I’ll go slow, but tell me you’ll say so if I need to stop. If you’re not turned on, it’s not working. Okay?”

  I nodded, his words igniting a fire between my thighs.

  “Go to the bedroom and get undressed. Get on your hands and knees on the bed and wait for me.”

  I swallowed hard and turned for the bedroom, dying to get my clothes off. Normally I’d hang my suit up when I changed, but tonight I left it on the floor with my bra and panties on top and then climbed on top of my bed.

  The anticipation was brutal and sweet at the same time. I’d never been so aroused than I was with my ass in the air, waiting for Killian to come into my bedroom.

  He didn’t prolong my agony for long. I heard his footsteps, followed by the rustle of his clothes coming off.

  “Exquisite as always,” he murmured. “Get down on your elbows and scoot your knees to the end of the bed.”

  I did as he commanded, feeling his body heat near me at the foot of the bed. His hands were on me then, caressing my back and breasts, rubbing my neck. His soft touch relaxed me, building my arousal at a slow, steady pace.

  The warm feel of his breath on my ass made me shiver. He kissed, licked and nipped me there, setting my body on fire. I was rolling my hips, eager for contact with his mouth.

  “So perfect,” he said in a low tone. Then I felt a rush of air before his palm made contact with my ass.

  The sting was delicious. I arched my back and moaned, hoping another slap was close behind.

  “You like that?” he asked. “You like me being rough with you?”

  “Yes.” I pulled on the fistfuls of my comforter in my hands, crying out with pleasure when he delivered several more hard slaps.

  “You’re ready,” he finally said. I heard something that sounded like a cap being flipped open, and then his fingers smoothed cool gel onto me.

  He eased the head of his cock in first and I gritted my teeth, the sensations of pleasure and pain at war inside me. He rubbed my shoulder reassuringly and I forced my body to relax.

  When he slid in further, his long, guttural groan of pleasure made me feel powerful. I pushed my hips back, silently asking for more.

  “Damn, baby, you’re making it hard to go slow,” he said. “Hold still.”

  I moaned and pushed my hips back harder.

  “Ah, Christ,” he said. “You vixen. You want it?”

  “Yes,” I whimpered, the fullness of him inside me feeding my arousal.

  He pumped his hips against me slowly, his hands locked around my hips. I rocked back against him and we built a rhythm that got deeper and stronger.

  With every thrust, he grunted. I knew he could finish anytime he wanted. But this was our first time, and I wanted to savor it as long as I could.

  I turned my face around to look at him. His expression was twisted in ecstasy.

  “I love you, Sid,” he said softly.

  Seeing him so overcome nearly sent me over the edge. I reached between my legs to touch myself, but he pulled my arm back, trapping it behind my back. His other arm pulled back on my shoulder and he raised me until I was on my knees, my back to his chest.

  Wrapping an arm around my waist, he thrust himself deep inside me, circling my clit with his fingers at the same time. I came with a powerful scream, the sensation almost unbearably intense.

  He eased out of me slowly and laid down, pulling me into his arms. We stayed like that for a couple minutes, neither of us saying a word. I’d never realized hot, dirty sex could be the most emotionally satisfying. With Killian, it definitely was.

  “You’re completely mine now,” he said, stroking a hand over my hair.

  I smiled, knowing that had happened a long time ago.

  Killian

  I walked into the Flyers’ owner’s box a week later, the flash of Sidney’s dark red hair spilling over her shoulders making my breath catch. Days apart from her felt like weeks to me.

  “Your man’s here, Sid,” Keri said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I just remembered something.” And with that she was gone. Apart from all her other skills, Keri’s privacy radar was super sensitive.

  Sid stood and turned, flying into my arms. I kissed her several times before either of us said a word.

  “Sorry it took me so long to get here,” I said.

  “The puck hasn’t dropped yet, so you’re good.” She patted the club chair next to the one she’d been sitting in. “Dinner’s on the way.”

  “Look at all that blue,” I said, scanning the crowded arena seats. “The guys have to be so pumped right now.”

  If the Flyers won tonight, they’d secure a spot in the playoffs for the first time in eight years. My excitement made it impossible to sit down. I wanted this for them so badly. It was bittersweet that I wasn’t the one leading them onto the ice tonight, but I was so damn proud of Bennett, the new team captain.

  Sid stood at the glass, looking out over the ice. Her excitement was palpable. She’d pulled off something rare in a single season – infusing a team with hope and a shot at glory. I wrapped my arms around her waist from behind.

  “I don’t think I can sit down,” she said. “I’ll jump out of the chair if I do.”

  “Me either.”

  She turned, her eyes wide with excitement. “So, did you bring pictures? Please say you did.”

  “Damn, I forgot.”

  “No!”

  “No, I didn’t forget,” I said, grinning and pulling out my phone. I held it in front of us and we scrolled through the photos, my blood pumping with nervous anticipation.

  “Arched windows,” she said in an approving tone. “That hardwood looks original.”

  I scrolled to a shot of an old stone fireplace with a carved wooden mantel. It was flanked by built in bookshelves in the same dark, rich wood.

  Sid seemed to be holding her breath.

  “We could always paint it,” I said. “Or replace it. Or even look at a newer place. But I just love the character of this whole apartment. And it’s huge.”

  “It’s perfect,” she said, her voice breaking with emotion. “Absolutely perfect in every way. Original woodwork. And did I see a claw foot bathtub in one of those pictures?”

  “Yep. Big enough for two.”

  She turned so we were face to face. “I never told you how much I love old buildings. Yet you managed to find us an apartment more perfect than I could have ever imagi
ned.”

  “Damn, it’s good to hear you say that,” I said, breathing out a sigh of relief. “I love it, and I was hoping you would, too.”

  “I’ve got movers coming in two weeks. We’ll keep the Fenway place so we have somewhere to sleep when we come here, and I’m keeping the New York place for the same reason. But all my furniture and personal stuff will go to our Indy place.”

  “Good. All I’ve got is a chair, a coffee table and a bed.”

  “What about the couch?”

  “Gave it to Bennett. Now that he’s team captain he gets the one-bed apartment. He’ll need something to sit his sorry ass on.”

  Her face dropped with disappointment.

  “You liked that threadbare piece of junk?” I asked, surprised.

  “It was comfortable.”

  “We’ll buy a new one that’ll give you better back support,” I said, arching my brows suggestively.

  I still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to move to Indy. I’d asked out of sheer desperation when we hadn’t seen each other in eight days because of our schedules. She’d only had to think about it for a few seconds before deciding to hand off most of the work at Firestorm to her people in New York. She’d still have to go to New York for meetings at her real estate business, and she’d need to make the occasional trip from Indy to Fenway. But she’d assured me a million times that all of this was no problem and that I was more important than anything else. I could have cried. The last person who’d said that to me was my mom.

  We’d be together most nights I wasn’t on the road. We’d share a closet. I’d have a reason to pull two coffee mugs out of the kitchen cabinet for our morning coffee.

  I’d never even considered living with a woman before Sidney. But she wasn’t like most women. She’d changed my life for the better in a matter of months.

  The topless photo of her had made its rounds on the Internet. She’d put a video message about it on YouTube, all business in a suit sitting behind her desk. Her heartfelt, direct message about refusing to be blackmailed, and the objectification of women, had gotten national media attention and support from women’s groups. She’d turned the situation into a win by donating $500,000 – the amount the blackmailer had sought – to a domestic violence organization.