Transcending Darkness

by Airicka Phoenix

  “Like that?” he murmured, doing it again, but slower.

  Cotton mouthed and irrationally dizzy, Juliette gave a single, rapid nod. “Yes.”

  Hungry eyes devoured her through the thick fringes of his lashes. His hands lifted. They wrapped in the straps of her top and dragged them leisurely over the slopes of her shoulders. The painfully slow descent tugged the hem down her chest, over the swell of her breasts to catch on the puckered tips, tugging and teasing before popping free. Juliette’s hiss was met with triumph before he was focused on the flesh he’d uncovered.

  His face darkened.

  “Christ, the things I’m going to do to you,” he breathed, untangling his hands from her top to slide around her back. They flattened against her shoulder blades. The heat of his palms soaked through the bunched material of her top and bit into skin. “The things I’m going to make you do.”

  He attacked with bruising hands and greedy lips. He assaulted and tore into one nipple while plucking and rolling the other with an anger that should have been painful if she wasn’t silently begging him for more.

  “God, that feels good!”

  Her breathless whimper was rewarded by the sharp nip of his teeth that sent hot embers scattering up her body. Her involuntary jerk tightened his grip on her, a clear warning that she wasn’t going anywhere. Black eyes bore up into hers, unwavering, unflinching, and unabashed by the fact that he was lazily circling the sensitive peak with the tip of his tongue. One hand slid forward and worked the other nipple into a hard, tingling nub under a taunting thumb.

  It was wrong.

  Letting him … wanting it … wanting him … it was all so wrong. But him stopping was even worse. The very idea had her fingers threading through all that thick, rich hair and clasping him to her. Her hips fought to lift, to rub, to ease the unbearable pang humming between her thighs. But his weight kept her immobilized and in unbearable pain.

  “Please…” she whispered.

  Gaze still cutting into hers, he relinquished his assault, leaving her breasts tingling and wet as he ascended. Hot lips followed the flush staining her chest to her collarbone. Soft, satiny strands tickled the underside of her chin and throat and forced her neck back. Her spine arched, pushing out her breasts into the hand still lazily toying with her sensitive peak.

  “Move your panties,” he commanded against her skin. “Show me where you want me.”

  Panting, her fingers trembled as they moved between their bodies to do as she was told. Beneath the coaxing strum of his fingers, her heart thundered against his palm. Her insides twisted as she hooked a finger into the damp stitch of fabric concealing her sex. Cool air kissed her exposed flesh and she shivered. The tremor coursed through her with a vengeance that had her teeth closing down on her lip and her every breath come out impossibly too fast. Killian never took his eyes off hers. He didn’t seem to care that every private part of her was bare before him. His only focus was on her eyes, watching every shift of light play across their surface with a shrewd sort of fascination that made her fidget uncomfortably.

  “Touch yourself,” he instructed.

  It was easier said than done when his weight was restraining her, but she managed to skim a single finger over the hard muscle of her clit. The back of her hand brushed over the rock hard bulge denting the front of his trousers and his irises expended. His nostrils gave a sharp flare, but his gaze remained dauntingly firm. He forced her thighs further apart and slowly drew back. Those incredible eyes drifted over her languidly until they stopped at her fingers.

  Heat drifted over her in a surge of embarrassment and her initial instinct was to shut her legs, but she couldn’t with him wedged firmly between them. Instead, all she could do was cup herself in some pathetic attempt at modesty that had his attention drifting back to her face with an almost questioning quirk of his eyebrow.

  He didn’t ask. He didn’t say anything. But his fingers curled around her wrist and gently drew her hand away. Powerless to stop him—part of her not wanting to—she watched as he shifted lower, as his dark head bent until his hot breath whispered over her sensitive flesh. Her body jerked simultaneously in two different reactions. The first was longing. The second was surprise. But it was nothing compared to the shock and the sharp zing that shot up her at the lazy sweep of his tongue.

  Juliette gasped. Her hands flew to his head. Her fingers closed in his hair. Maybe she’d meant to stop him, but it was lost the moment his lips suctioned over the crest of her sex and sucked.

  “Killian!” his name burst out of her in a tortured whine that was followed by the violent shudder that ripped through her.

  Her fingers tightened as her hips rose to meet the demanding coaxing of his mouth. He devoured her like a man who had been given a second chance at life. It was passionate and insistent and full of so much everything she couldn’t breathe.

  When he coaxed a finger past the tight ring of her opening, Juliette froze at the pressure. The subtle pain was nowhere near enough to make her want to stop, but it was enough to make her grunt a little and shift uncomfortably.

  Killian lifted his head. The light overhead shone off the moisture smeared across his mouth and chin. It glinted across the surface of his eyes, reminding her of the ocean at night.

  “Am I hurting you?” he asked.

  Juliette shook her head. “No.” She wet her lips hurriedly. “It’s been a while,” she whispered, not really lying. It had been a while since anyone had been down there. “I’m okay.”

  He gave an understanding nod before bending his head back to his task. His finger worked gingerly, but with purpose, relaxing the muscles of her opening. Between his tongue and his hand, it took no time at all for Juliette to start thrashing again. Her hips shifted restlessly for more, but he kept at his teasing pace until she was sure she was going to burst into frustrated tears.

  “Killian, please…” she begged, tugging at his hair. Her thigh muscles were beginning to quiver uncontrollably and her heart was beating against her ribcage with a vengeance she was sure wasn’t safe. Still, Killian kept on tormenting her. “God, please! I’m so close!”

  His answer was to ease a second finger inside her and flick lazily at her blood filled clit. It wasn’t nearly enough to ease the pain.

  Juliette swore viciously and bucked. It did nothing, but get him to stop.

  He drew back and swiped his forearm casually over his mouth. She watched him with confusion and more than a mild sense of panic. Inside her, his fingers continued to move, stretching her and working the unused muscles of her pussy.

  “Do you make a mess when you come?”

  Panting, Juliette had to swallow hard before she could respond. “Mess?”

  He nodded. “Do you squirt?”

  Scalding hot blood rushed to her face that seemed to amuse him. She averted her eyes.

  “I haven’t before,” she mumbled, wishing he wouldn’t watch her with such intensity.

  “Never?”

  She shook her head. She started to open her mouth when his fingers bent inside her. It wasn’t subtle. Whatever he did, whatever he pushed up against nearly had her leaping out of the seat. Her entire body involuntarily bowed off the leather. Her wail burst up her chest to lodge in her throat, becoming a silent scream she couldn’t control. Her fingers clawed into the bench as she lifted and slammed her hips into his hand.

  “Oh my God!” she sobbed.

  “No one’s done that before either?” he taunted with a sly cock of his head.

  Dying for more, Juliette convulsed between shaking her head and trying to gain control of her body again. Her channels sucked greedily at his fingers still moving inside her, but going anywhere near that place again. And she wanted him to. God, she needed it so badly.

  “What sort of men have you been with?” he pondered darkly, giving the spot a gentle nudge that sent her head flinging back and her vision blurring.

  “What are you doing?” she gasped, writhing shamelessly into his palm.r />
  Something hot and liquid trickled free and pooled beneath her. It soaked into her panties and dribbled over his fingers.

  “I’m going to make you squirt.”

  “Oh!” she choked out, breathless. “Okay.”

  He drew the pads of his fingers expertly along her walls, bypassing the button she never knew she had. He did this a few times until she was certain she’d lose her fucking mind. Then he pulled out, without warning or reason. His fingers slipped free of her body and he sat back, still kneeling between her sprawled and quivering thighs. Her channel felt unusually empty without him. More than that, her clit was on fire.

  “What … why…?”

  Her bafflement tugged on one corner of his mouth. It wasn’t exactly a smile, but it was close.

  “We’re at my place.”

  Sure enough, the limo had stopped moving. She couldn’t make anything out through the windows, except an overcast of clouds. It took her a moment to realize she was slumped as low as she could possibly go on the seat, practically on the limo floor with him.

  Flushing, she wiggled up, dragging her clothes and shoes back into place as she did so. The higher she got, the more of her surroundings came into view.

  A building of blinding white stucco glowed beneath the evening sky. The Mediterranean style mansion sat at the end of a glittering carpet of polished stone and was surrounded by lush lawns, towering trees and gleaming lamps. A stone fountain bubbled melodiously at the foot of marble steps leading to a set of wide, wooden doors. It was that that propelled Juliette from the car, the woman standing on a stone dais in the center of the fountain, pouring water out of a clay pot. She wore a flowing gown with thick straps and while the whole sculpture was flawless white, Juliette pictured the dress to be purple to match the band keeping back the riot of curls spilling recklessly down a slender back. The hair would be dark … black and the eyes…

  Juliette crossed the cobblestone to stand at the base.

  Brown, she decided. The woman’s eyes would be a soft, hazel brown.

  It was ridiculous to imagine colors on a colorless statue, but there was something about the whole piece that didn’t seem random.

  “She’s so beautiful,” Juliette said, as Killian came up beside her. “Did she come with the fountain or was she specially made?”

  “It’s my mother.” His hands dipped into the pockets of his trousers and he tipped his head back to peer into the statue’s smiling face. “My father had it made after she passed.”

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured, knowing all too well the pains of losing a mother.

  She started to open her mouth and tell him she knew how he felt, but he was already walking away. She didn’t stop him. Instead, she turned towards the limo, intending to go back and get her things, but the car was gone. The giant they’d driven back with stood a few feet away, solemnly watching something over her head.

  Again, her mouth opened to ask him where her stuff was.

  “Marco will bring everything inside,” Killian said before she could get the words out.

  Left with no other choice, she followed him towards the house and the steps. He offered her his hand, taking her completely by surprise.

  “The stones can be slippery,” he told her when she peered up at him.

  Gingerly, she settled her fingers into his palm and watched as her entire hand was seamlessly swallowed with just a mere curl of his long fingers. He guided her up and through the doors, which pulled open before he could touch them.

  Two men dressed in navy suits stood stationed just inside. Neither glanced at Juliette when she and Killian walked through. The doors were shut behind them.

  “Would you like a drink?” Killian glanced back over his shoulder as he made his way deeper through the spacious foyer.

  Like the outside, the inside was a sprawling catacomb of gleaming stone and iron. The front entrance opened in three separate sections that led into rooms that could easily fit her entire house. At first glance the two open doorways on either side of her opened to a pair of sitting areas and she couldn’t fathom why anyone needed two when she noticed one had a TV and the other didn’t. It still made no sense, but then decorating his house wasn’t why she was there.

  Her gaze went to the man waiting for her a few feet away.

  “Water, please.”

  He eyed her a moment. “I have champagne.”

  Juliette shook her head. “No, thank you.”

  Her response seemed to confuse him, but he didn’t ask. He motioned her to follow him past an elegant set of stairs sweeping upwards to the second floor. They walked in silence through a wide corridor lined with windows looking out onto what appeared to be a garden barely illuminated in the darkness. It ended at a wide opening and a doorway.

  Juliette stayed just outside, balancing on the threshold as he walked to the fridge and yanked it open.

  The kitchen, like all the other rooms, was enormous. Much too big for the single corner it took up. An island was bolted in the center, cutting the kitchen away from the rest of the space. Across the room, lights spilled through the sheer drapes hanging over a series of French doors and cut patches into the marble floors.

  “Don’t like it?” Killian was walking towards her, a frosty glass bottle of water in hand.

  Juliette shook her head. “It’s nice.”

  A snort left him. “It’s a waste of space, but I rarely entertain … or cook.”

  Not knowing what to say to that, Juliette accepted the bottle and broke the seal on the cap. She took a long sip. The ice cold liquid cut a path down the center of her chest to fill her stomach. It didn’t put the fire out that he’d lit there, but it calmed some of it.

  She replaced the cap. “Thank you.”

  He peered at her while she offered him the bottle back. He seemed, as always, to be waiting for something, like somehow, she hadn’t conducted herself the way he’d expected and that made her nervous. She needed for that night to go well. Really well. She needed for him to have the time of his life. Otherwise, she would never be free of Arlo.

  He took the water and peered down at the clear, white glass. He weighed it a moment in his hand before walking to the island and setting the bottle down. The muffled crack echoed in the silence.

  Juliette fidgeted nervously. “So…” she murmured. “This is a nice house. Have you lived here long?”

  Killian’s head lifted slowly and turned in her direction. One eyebrow lifted, but there was amusement in his eyes.

  “Are you making small talk?”

  A flush worked up her throat to fill her face. “What? No … maybe,” she mumbled at last. She offered him a sheepish half grin. “Sorry.”

  His mouth twitched and for a moment, she honestly thought he was going to smile. But it was gone as he started towards her, though the light remained shimmering in his eyes.

  “Come.”

  She followed him back the way they’d come. In the foyer, he turned left and started up the staircase. Juliette faltered at the bottom. Her fingers were sweaty when she closed them around the polished banister. Her knees wobbled and her grip tightened.

  God, this was it. He was taking her to his room where he would … panic lodged in her throat, making her heart drum wildly between her ears. Ahead of her, Killian paused and glanced back. His gaze was questioning.

  I can do this! she told herself. It’ll be okay. It’s only one night.

  But a lot could happen in a night. He was a perfect stranger. He could be a serial killer, or worse. He could tie her down and do whatever he wanted and no one knew where she was.

  Oh God … no one knew where she was. Hell, she didn’t know where she was. He had distracted her the entire drive. They could be in another city for all she knew.

  “Juliette?” Killian took one step down.

  Get a grip! The voice in her head hissed, jolting her out of her crippling terror.

  It was a wonder when her legs didn’t fold beneath her with her first unsteady attempt. S
he managed to make it all the way to the step beneath his without tumbling down to her death.

  Killian stayed put for a full heartbeat, looking like he wanted to say something, but seemed to think better of it as he turned and lead the way down a long corridor.

  At the end, the hallway split off in two separate directions before looping around and coming to a full circle on the other side of a large opening that looked down into a whole other section of the place. Juliette peered over the iron railing and saw only the rose marble flooring below. On the other side of the circle was a set of wrought iron stairs leading downward.

  “It leads to the sunroom and conservatory,” Killian said, catching her. “The gym and media room are on the other side.”

  On the other side of what? Juliette was about to ask, but did it really matter? She wasn’t there for a tour.

  He led her down a hallway that widened down yet another corridor lined with doors. The cold feeling of dread took over again, making her strides sloppy; every step rattled, making her heels scrape noisily in the silence. She tried to pull herself together, but the further they went, the less she wanted to be there.

  This was not how she had envisioned her first time, with a guy whose last name she didn’t even know. It definitely wasn’t out of obligation or fear. But she didn’t know how to stop it now, how to walk away without putting Vi or herself in danger. She had to go through with it. She had to finally end the nightmare. It was clear from the drive up that Killian knew what he was doing where women were concerned so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe she might even like it. Then she would forget all about it and everything would be okay.

  “You don’t have to do this.” Killian’s voice snapped her out of her own pep talk. It jerked her head up to find him standing in the open doorway of a room, watching her. “You can leave if you like. Frank will call you a cab.”

  Yes! She wanted to cry. Better yet, she wanted to spin on her heels and make a mad dash back down to the foyer. But she stayed.