Once Pure

by Cecy Robson

  My hands linked around his neck, encouraging a ravenous kiss I felt down to my knees. Water smacked against my back, drenching me as his hands slid over my skin.

  Everything felt new beneath the warm spray, as if we were touching for the first time. Maybe the cascading water was symbolically washing away the impurities of my past. Or maybe it was simply Killian and everything he made me feel.

  I wedged my body between his legs, rubbing against his length with my belly while my hand reached between us. Killian groaned and his breaths grew faster, his palms sliding over my slippery skin but failing to connect with any intimate parts.

  I tugged at his bottom lip with my teeth as I broke our kiss. “You’re not touching me,” I rasped as I continued to rub against him.

  “I want to.” He tightened his hold, slowing me down. “Just need to make sure it’s okay. Will you tell me?”

  “Tell you?” He nodded. “I don’t think I can do that….” For as much as I was naked, and stroking him, to actually tell him what to do seemed beyond me.

  He smiled, patiently. “Then show me. Put my hands where you want them. Let me know what you need…and how fast and hard you want it.”

  He was giving me back control. “Show you?” I repeated. He nodded again. So I swallowed hard and did as he asked.

  I pulled his hand forward and placed it between my legs, encouraging his fingers to rub and match the speed with which I took him with my other hand.

  The water made everything slicker, and it also made me more aggressive, straining to hold him tight. Killian’s grunts told me he liked the attention I gave him. But those grunts grew louder when I fell to my knees and enveloped him with my mouth.

  Killian’s back crashed against the wall. I gripped his hips, forcing him to move in and out of me until he hauled me upward and wrapped my legs around his waist. If I was braver, I would have reached for him and eased him inside me. But in spite of how the passion between us consumed me, my courage wavered. He realized and didn’t push. Instead he kissed me as streams of water trickled down our faces.

  As we continued to stroke, I realized I wanted more for him, something different that I hadn’t yet tried. So as I finished him off with my hand, my fingers slid between us.

  I touched myself, like he’d always touched me, hoping my actions would please him.

  Killian’s eyes widened and he swore, watching my hand move. His gaze alternated between my legs and back to my face until he hardened again beneath my grasp.

  “Do you like this?” I asked, my body and voice trembling.

  He knew what I was asking. He swore again, heating my body with his deep moans. “Tell me what you want,” I gasped. “Tell me what to do.”

  “Faster,” he grunted. He watched my hand. “Like that…more…oh—damn.”

  He was so turned on he could barely speak. And he wasn’t alone. I was close to climaxing, except the sensation made it hard to keep up my speed. I locked eyes with Killian, my voice pleading and whimpering. “Help me finish…please, Killian…”

  I screamed with pleasure when Killian shoved his fingers in and his mouth latched on to my nipple. Both of us orgasmed so loudly, so forcibly, that Killian toppled down, landing on the tile floor with me on top of him. He protected me with his body, keeping me safe as mine continued to writhe against him.

  Chapter 13

  Killian reached for my hand, helping me out of the limo and into the limelight. The glare from the flashing camera lights made me dizzy. Both he and Teo had warned me that the event was going to be chaos, and all of Atlantic City a madhouse, but good heavens, it was early afternoon and we’d only just arrived!

  I had asked his new sponsor, Epic Sports, to book the limo under a separate name and keep Killian’s arrival low key. “Sure, sure,” the coordinator had promised me. “Whatever the champ wants.”

  The thing was, now that Killian’s followers had almost tripled, and Epic Sports sales had skyrocketed as a result of his Twitter and Facebook endorsements, it was evident that they planned to milk their wonder boy for all he was worth. As it was, a team of men in Epic Sports T-shirts had gathered along the door, trying to snag Killian’s attention.

  I should have just asked one of Killian’s brothers to drive us, but as I watched them hurry to form an arc in front of us, I realized that sounded better in theory. They were justifiably proud of their brother, not to mention that they were totally loving the attention and perks Killian’s status brought them.

  Instead of attempting to settle the horde of people elbowing one another to draw closer, the supersized O’Briens fueled the excitement surrounding Killian’s arrival. Angus, Seamus, Declan, and Curran held out their hands, demanding that the crowd back away, yelling that “the champ needs to focus,” hollering to “give the champ some space,” and insisting “the champ and his supermodel girlfriend need room to breathe.”

  My head jerked up at Killian. Supermodel girlfriend?

  The corners of his mouth lifted into a grin. “Just let them have their fun.”

  The flashing lights grew brighter as we stepped onto the immense casino’s red carpet. I wasn’t sure where to look. Killian curled his arm around my waist, leading me forward while a gang of sports journalists shoved mics into his face.

  “Kill, you ready for Marsh?”

  Killian smiled, his demeanor easy, as if we were walking along the beach. “You should be asking Marsh if he’s ready for me.”

  “Kill, is it true Mateo Tres Santos—an ex-con—helped you prepare for this fight?”

  My body tensed, but Killian’s smile only widened. “That’s right.”

  More flashing lights, more questions ripping through the air all at once:

  “Shouldn’t that worry you?”

  “What would your fans think—knowing you associate with an ex-criminal?”

  “With so many choices, why an ex-con?”

  Killian remained unfazed. “Mateo and I grew up together. He’s a friend—one I’d trust with those I love.” He shrugged. “He survived prison and kept his heart. That’s the kind of man I want on my side.”

  He winked at me when I smiled up at him. But my show of gratitude for his defense of my brother earned me attention I hadn’t counted on. “Who’s this, Kill?” a female reporter asked, edging her way forward.

  “My girl, Sofia.” He pointed at her. “Watch it, Denise. She’s taken.”

  That earned him a few laughs and a blush on my behalf.

  “Sofia,” a big voice in the back boomed. “You think your man has what it takes to get it done?”

  Lights exploded in my sight as the press waited for me to answer. It was too hard to look at them—they scrutinized, they judged, they watched like hawks waiting to pounce on anything they perceived as prey.

  Killian wasn’t prey. I wouldn’t be either.

  I looked back at him and smiled softly. “I know he’ll make me proud.”

  The questions and madness continued until the bouncers Mateo knew from his former club days held the press back enough so we could make our way inside. Mateo thought they’d be good for show. Killian agreed, and was also cool with their fee—tickets to the match and dinner at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

  The O’Briens hurried forward while Killian pulled me to the side. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I meant that. I was with him. There was nothing to fear. That would change the next night when he met Marsh. I was glad his brothers and Wren were there. I only wish my family was, too.

  Teo hadn’t liked the idea of his wife and infant son in Atlantic City, and he hated being away from them even more. So he didn’t come, and Killian hadn’t pushed him to. As I continued to look around, I realized another shoulder to lean on wouldn’t have hurt. Hopefully, though, I could make up for my brother’s absence.

  Killian’s hand trailed down my bare arm. It was sweet how he wasn’t shy about letting the public know that we were together. And now that I realized just how much attention he would attract,
I was glad I’d splurged on new clothes.

  Evie was nice enough to accompany me on my shopping trip. I knew little about fashion and tended to select clothes that looked good on the mannequin. Evie’s sense of style, though, was epic. I couldn’t get over the gorgeous patterns and bold colors she’d selected—or the cut. While the skirts remained long, each piece was a combination of sweet and sexy, and had Killian’s eyes widening when I’d tried them on for him.

  “Have I told you how beautiful you look?” he asked.

  He had, and had proven as much by stripping me out of the red dress I was wearing an hour before we left Philly. My forehead fell against his shoulder. “Yes. But I like hearing you say it.”

  “I’m only speaking the truth,” he murmured. He held my hands and bent to kiss me, but our kiss didn’t last. The front doors of the hotel crashed open as the press stormed in and attempted to capture the intimate moment between us.

  The bouncers rushed forward, and so did a cluster of hotel security, pushing everyone back. Killian adjusted his position so that his body blocked me from view and his face was out of camera shot. “The press is out of control.”

  “This isn’t typical?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “They’re crazier this time around—this fight has bigger names, bigger stakes.” The angles of his face hardened. “They’ll probably want to write about more than just the match.”

  I didn’t like where the conversation was headed. “Like what?”

  “Like dirt. Shit they shouldn’t be messing with.”

  “Is that even tolerated? Those are major news stations out there. I would imagine they’d be held to higher standards.”

  Killian thought about it. “The main ones, probably. But there’s more than just the big guns here. MMA has taken off. A lot of fighters are dating celebrities now. That attention brings the paparazzi—asshats who want to catch the shit that goes on outside the ring, and who would risk pissing me off to get a reaction.”

  I straightened, realizing what he was trying to tell me. “You think they might use me to get to you.”

  That edge Killian carried sharpened to a lethal blade. “If they do, they’ll get exactly what they’re looking for.”

  I pushed my hair out of my face. Killian didn’t have anything to be ashamed of, or a past that could be thrown in his face. I couldn’t say the same. “I shouldn’t have come.”

  He leaned back on his heels. “That’s not true. You belong here with me.”

  I thought of some of the things the press might say. While Killian could let things roll off his back when they were directed at him, that wasn’t the case when it came to me. “You have to promise you won’t let anything they say about me rile you.”

  Killian tightened his jaw.

  I squeezed his hands. “I’m serious. If what you say is true, you know they’ll try to bait you. Look at how they threw Teo’s prison time in your face.”

  The stance he maintained told me two things: one, that he was expecting the press to try to use me, and two, no way would he tolerate it. “As my girlfriend, you’re off limits. If they disrespect that, I’ll disrespect them.”

  I didn’t like this. “Killian…”

  “Sofia, I won’t make you a promise that I can’t keep. If the press messes with you, they’re going to get a lot more than they bargained for.”

  “That’s not what I want.”

  “But that’s how it’s going to be.”

  Finn and Wren hurried forward before I could argue, but even with more time, I knew I wouldn’t be able to change Killian’s mind. I understood and appreciated his loyalty to me, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t be upset if he lashed out in my defense.

  “Suite’s ready,” Finn said. “You want to head up?”

  Killian answered with a stiff nod, but kept his focus on me as the rest of his family gathered around us. “Do me a favor, keep tabs on Sofia. I don’t want her with less than two of youz at all times.”

  Seamus frowned. “Someone giving her shit?”

  Killian watched me. “The press is circling like sharks. Don’t want her bit, you feel me?”

  His request was followed by a bunch of “you got its” and “no problems.” Well, except for Angus, the oldest, and the most vocal next to Wren. “Anyone gets near Sofia, I’m punching him in the fucking throat.”

  I groaned. Killian worrying about me was the last thing he needed.

  Wren rubbed my back. “She’ll be fine, Kill. We’ll make sure of it. Come on. Let’s go up. You got the penthouse. They gave the rest of us the floor below….”

  —

  Killian’s workout in the gym was closely observed by a cluster of press. That group didn’t compare to the gang of cameramen and reporters gathered at the press conference later that afternoon. Each fighter was featured alongside his opponent. Killian and Marsh were no exception.

  Marsh had Gil, Killian’s ex-trainer, sit between him and Killian. Killian asked Finn to be his wingman, allowing his little brother to share the spotlight and giving him an opportunity to discuss his upcoming match in New York.

  “Marsh!” a reporter in jeans and a tight green shirt called from the back. “What do you plan to do to Kill in the ring?”

  “Fucking rip off his head,” Marsh answered, growling his way. “Then shove my fist through his gaping neck and pull out his stomach.”

  Good Lord. This was Killian’s opponent!

  Wren gave my hand a squeeze from where we sat in the front. “I don’t think this asshole’s mother hugged him enough as a kid. What do you think, Sofe?” she asked.

  I nodded, agreeing. Marsh didn’t strike me as the most stable guy in the room.

  “Kill!” another guy asked. “What do you have to say to that?”

  Killian smirked. “I see Marsh has given this a lot of thought. But neither me or my innards are scared of him or his fists.”

  That earned a laugh from everyone but Team Marsh.

  Someone else spoke up. “Kill. What do you plan to do?”

  Killian shrugged. “Win,” he answered, like it was obvious.

  He winked when I smiled at him. While Marsh was all about beating his chest and making noise, Killian remained quiet and confident. He reminded me of the president of the free world. He didn’t have to scream that he was powerful. He simply was.

  Someone knelt in front of me, shoving a mic in my face. “You’re Sofia Tres Santos, right?”

  Wren and Declan leaned forward, trying to shield me. “Hey, asshole,” Declan snapped. “Back off, this isn’t her show.”

  “Just talking, man,” the guy told him.

  He wasn’t whispering. He was speaking loud enough for Killian to hear. I readied myself for what he was going to ask.

  Nothing could have prepared me for his next question.

  “I heard you were raped. How were you able to get past that?”

  Declan and Wren had tried to yell over him, knowing he was looking for trouble. Seamus and Curran barreled their way through, even though Angus already had him by the collar of his polo.

  Killian leapt over the table, knocking his and Gil’s mics onto the industrial carpet. Security scrambled from their positions along the wall, ramming him and attempting to shove him away.

  I hurried to my feet, wanting to reach him, only to be blocked by a wall of bodies surging forward. Despite the aggressive and vocal responses from his brothers and sister, the members of the press ignored them and rushed Killian. Cameras clicked like the sound of falling dominoes. Voices shouted his way, asking what was wrong, asking how he felt, asking if what had happened to me was true.

  This was a total setup.

  But no way would I allow Killian to look bad because of me.

  I raised my hand. “Excuse me…excuse me.” My soft and shaking voice was lost among the screaming O’Briens and the uproar of the press. But I persisted until I finally caught the attention of someone—Denise, the sole female reporter of the group. She saw the opportunity
I was offering and took it.

  She edged her way forward, speaking into the mic. “Anarchy has been unleashed here at the press conference for the well-publicized super heavyweight MMA match between Killian O’Brien and Marshall Anderson. Miss, can you tell us what’s happening?” she asked, sticking the mic in my face.

  My voice and body had begun to shake, but I forced myself to speak. “That reporter asked me about my rape.”

  Another camera turned my way, followed by another. I kept my attention on Denise, whose eyes widened briefly. “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that, miss?” she asked.

  I nodded, well aware of the murmurs spreading along the room and the flashes of light now aimed in my direction. “It’s Sofia. Sofia Tres Santos,” I responded, as a means of introduction. “I’m here with Killian.”

  I swallowed hard, hoping to settle the trembling in my voice. Wren and Declan helped by positioning themselves on either side of me. “I was just asked about my rape,” I repeated, glancing back at the reporter Angus had only just released. I focused on the man’s sweating crown line; it was easier than watching his expression or wondering if it would change based on what I had to say. “You asked me how I moved on after what happened to me. I imagine it’s similar to the way that the other one in five women who are raped get past it. I keep going,” I answered simply. “I want to live. I want to be happy. So I keep going…even though it’s something I’ll never forget.”

  The quiet in the room was so heavy, I almost felt I could reach out and squeeze it between my fingers. If I’d had to say more, I don’t think I could have managed. But Denise didn’t push, and offered me the reprieve I needed. “Thank you, Sofia,” she said.

  I nodded and lowered myself to my seat, alert to those who kept watching me. Denise signed off, then turned to glare at the man who’d started it all. She didn’t say anything to him, but her cameraman did. He switched off his device and scowled. “You’re a piece of shit, Mark,” he told him.

  Yeah. He was.

  Killian’s family gathered around me, taking up the seats closest to me to form a barrier. I used the floral silk wrap I’d brought to cover my trembling hands. Declan put his arm around me, but it was Killian I trained my eyes on. His stare could have crushed bricks, yet he and Finn eased their way back to the conference table as someone hurried to reposition the toppled mics.