Killian: A West Bend Saints Romance

by Sabrina Paige

  He unbuttons my jeans, pulling them over my hips with such force that I think he might tear the fabric right off me. When he slides his fingers down the front of my panties, he growls. "Shit, you're wet. I knew you wanted me. You've been wet for me all along."

  "Shut up," I protest, but it comes out more like a groan as his fingers find my entrance, teasing me. "Only in your dreams."

  Killian chuckles. "You've been thinking about this since I spilled coffee on you at the store."

  He doesn't thrust his fingers inside me. Instead he pauses at my entrance to torment me mercilessly, and I can't think about anything else except how desperately I want his fingers inside me, or how much I want him to strip these jeans off my legs and take me up against the wall, my legs wrapped around him as he thrusts inside me.

  "Tell me you've been thinking about me fucking you," he commands, his breath warm against my ear. His beard brushes against my skin and it sends a shiver up my body. I cling to his muscular arms, my fingers digging into them as I try to focus on what he's saying and not on the fact that what I really want to do right now is rip his clothes off.

  "Fine," I admit. "Yes. I've been thinking about you fucking me, Killian."

  The corners of his lips turn up in a smile. I definitely see it this time, even under the beard. Then he doesn't tease me anymore. He thrusts his fingers inside me in one swift movement until his palm is pressed against my clit. The moan that escapes my lips – far too loud to be normal says everything about how this is the first time I've been touched in years.

  "Have you fingered yourself thinking about my cock inside you?" he asks, his voice gravelly and low. My hand slides down to the button on his jeans but he shakes his head. "Not yet," he says, his fingers stroking me inside, the movement slow and repetitive. I let my hand drift lower to his hardness that presses against the front of his jeans, and my pussy tightens around his fingers, an automatic response to merely feeling the outline of his cock.

  "You didn't answer me," he whispers. He presses his fingers against the most sensitive place inside me, his eyes on mine as he brings me higher and higher. I can't think about anything when he's doing what he's doing with his fingers except how badly I want him naked against me.

  "Yes."

  He groans his response, cupping my breast in his hand and thumbing my nipple as he works his magic with his other hand. I hear myself whimper again, a desperate, needy sound that's so unlike me.

  "It's been so long since you've been touched, hasn't it?" he asks, his hand sliding away from my breast and up to the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair. "And you want me to make you come so badly."

  "Yes." My eyes are fixed on his, and the lust on his face and his desire for me makes me wetter.

  "I haven't been able to stop thinking about being inside you since the second I met you," he says. "The last time I kissed you, I barely made it home before I had to jerk off thinking about what I wanted to do to you. I'm going to make you come here on my fingers, and then I'm going to fuck you on the counter right in the middle of this kitchen. And then I want you in my bed."

  The way he speaks the filthy words, the thought of him jerking off while he fantasized about me, sends me straight over the edge. I come with the intensity of someone who hasn't been touched by a man in years, screaming my orgasm far more loudly than I should in the middle of the store. Killian covers my mouth with his and I scream into it as heat surges through me with the intensity of a tidal wave.

  I'm still coming, my pussy still tightening around his fingers, when a voice calls from behind us.

  "Knock, knock! Delivery!"

  17

  Killian

  Fuck. Well, now I'm going to have to murder a delivery guy.

  I pull my lips away from Lily's as her eyes fly wide open, her pussy still throbbing around my fingers. I can't remember ever being as pissed off in my life as I am right now at the fact that a damn delivery guy interrupted the first orgasm I've given this woman.

  Lily stands there, topless with her jeans pulled halfway down her hips and my fingers lodged firmly inside her, a horrified expression on her face.

  I shield her with my body while shouting. "Get the hell out of here!"

  "Give me a minute and I'll come sign for it!" Lily calls.

  I hesitate for a second because frankly, my fingers are still inside of her and I don't want to take them out.

  "Hurry," she whispers, slapping my hand. "He went to his truck. Grab my clothes."

  I groan my displeasure, reluctantly sliding my fingers from her. I pick up her shirt and bra from their crumpled pile on the floor and hand them to her. "I'm going to finish what we started," I promise.

  Lily grins as she pulls the t-shirt over her head. When she shakes her hair, it tumbles over her shoulders in waves. This time when she walks across the kitchen to sign for the delivery, it's more seductive than before, her hips swaying. I swear her orgasm is evident in every move she makes right now, and it makes me want to make her come a thousand more times. When the delivery guy returns with his clipboard for the signature, he doesn't make eye contact with either of us.

  "Leave it outside," I growl.

  "Killian!" Lily admonishes me. When he's gone, she whirls around, facing me. "You scared my delivery guy."

  "Be glad that's all I did. That motherfucker might have gotten a look at your tits."

  Lily laughs. The sound is light, lighter than anything I've heard from her since we met, and I can't help but smile. She stands in front of me with her hand on her hip, the way she does when she's angry with me, except she's not. She has a flush on her cheeks, a post-orgasm glow that makes her look even sexier than usual, and the sight makes me want to rip her clothes off right this instant.

  Her gaze drops lower, and she brings a hand to her swollen lips. "Oh my God," she whispers. "You're still…"

  "Hard? Yeah."

  Lily steps closer to me, and I smell her perfume. Or her shampoo. Whatever it is, I swear it makes me even harder. "You were hard when the delivery guy came in."

  "I want you. Getting interrupted doesn't change that."

  She looks up at me, her eyes half-lidded. "Killian." She whispers my name, her hand palming my cock through my jeans.

  I groan at her touch, even through the fabric of my jeans. It's her touch I've been fantasizing about. "Lily."

  Her fingers fumble with the button on my pants, her eyes on mine. My cock jumps at the thought of her hand on my cock, pulling me from my jeans. And her mouth. Then she pauses. "I… " Her voice trails off. "I haven't done this in a… a long time."

  Shit.

  Even though I suspected as much, hearing the words come out of her mouth sends a surge of guilt through me. She's been hurt; it's written all over her; and she hasn't done this in a long time.

  I can't just throw her up against a wall and fuck her.

  She catches the look on my face. "I didn't mean that I don't want to," she whispers. "I'm just – I don't know what I'm saying." She starts to unzip my jeans and I grab her wrist.

  "Don't." I'm irritated with the fact that she's not sure and still unzipping my pants like she feels like she owes me something. When her eyes go wider, surprised at my response, I yank her to me, my hardness against her leg. My cock twitches at the sensation of her body on mine, and I groan.

  "I want to –"

  "Bullshit. You're not sure. I can see it in your eyes. You think I'm going to fuck you like that? Or stick my cock down your throat because I want to get off?"

  Her face colors and I know I'm right. She inhales sharply, her bottom lip between her teeth. "I'm not a cocktease."

  That word, coming out of her mouth…I groan low in my throat. Fuck, I want to hear her say it again. "Yeah you are. You're my cocktease." I press my hardness against her for emphasis.

  "I'm not anyone's anything," she protests, but she doesn't try to pull her wrist from my hand, nor does she step away from me - even though she could. Instead, she runs her tongue ove
r her lower lip.

  "You're mine," I growl. The words come out of my mouth before I even know what I'm saying. I've never called anyone "mine". Hell, I've never wanted anything to be mine before. The words should sound foreign to my ears but they don't. Calling her mine feels like the most natural thing in the world, and that fact sends a pang of fear through me that I immediately push out of my head.

  Lily raises her eyebrows. "I'm not yours," she whispers.

  "Stop talking, woman." Letting go of her wrist, I bring my mouth down on hers in a furious kiss. I slide my hand to her back, holding her hard against me. Her tongue finds mine swiftly before she pulls back and looks at me.

  "Stop telling me to stop talking," she says. "You can't just go around saying things like that."

  She doesn't mean calling her woman. She means calling her mine.

  My eyes locked on hers, I reach for the button on her jeans and she doesn't stop me. Her breasts rise as she breathes in, her lip pulling between her teeth again. That's her tell – the lip between the teeth. I unzip her jeans and slide my hand down the front of her panties – light blue cotton panties, nothing fancy, but hell if they aren't the sexiest thing I've ever seen in my life. When my fingertips make contact with her clit, she lets out a whine, her need for me more than apparent. "This is mine."

  I declare it. I stake my goddamn claim on this girl's pussy. I've never made a declaration like that.

  She lets out a laugh that immediately turns to a moan when I roll my fingers over her clit. Gripping my biceps, she gasps before she speaks. "You can't say it's yours."

  "I touched it," I say. "I'm touching it now. Do I need to lick it to claim it as mine?"

  "Oh my God." She breathes the words low in her throat.

  My cock strains against the zipper of my jeans. Shit, I've never had a bigger case of blue balls in my life. I'm like the fucking world record holder for blue balls. "Is that a yes?"

  Lily slides her palm over the front of my jeans. "I want to –"

  "Sorry, cupcake."

  She whimpers again. "Killian…"

  "How long?" I ask, sliding my fingers from her because I want to pull off her clothes. She exhales heavily as an expression of disappointment flits across her face.

  "How long what?" The look on her face tells me she knows exactly what I'm asking.

  "How long has it been?" My hands find the sides of her jeans, pausing because I'm trying not to be a fucking animal and just tear her clothes off her, which is exactly what I want to do. My fingers pinch the fabric, my hands practically shaking because of my restraint.

  "Three years," she whispers. Her gaze darts to the side as she avoids looking at me. "Three years ago, I had a one-night stand. It was … not very good. I haven't had a whole lot of… "

  Her voice cracks, and I stand there unmoving as she meets my gaze again. "Tell me."

  She inhales deeply, pausing for what seems like an eternity before she exhales heavily. "I haven't had a whole lot of sex, okay? That's embarrassing as hell. That one night stand and before that, my – " She pauses. "My husband."

  My heart stops. "You're married."

  "No. Oh God, no. I'm not. I was married. He's dead."

  "Oh." I don't know what else to say.

  "It was a long time ago. He wasn't a good man, as it turned out." She looks at me with an expression on her face that says the conversation about the dead husband is over. I recognize that look, because it's the same one I give my brothers when they start bombarding me with questions. Lily slides her hands down to my jeans and pulls me hard against her. "I don't want to talk about my dead husband right now."

  "I don't want to talk at all." I tug on the sides of her jeans, pulling them down over her hips.

  "Killian, I –"

  "I'm not going to fuck you." I lean close to her and whisper the words in her ear, and she tilts her head to the side, letting out a soft moan. "But I am going to make you come again. I'm going to rip off these jeans and put my tongue between your legs and taste you. I'm going to have my fill of your sweet pussy and feel you come on my face. Then you're going to go home tonight and lie in bed and touch yourself while you replay it in your head."

  She whimpers loudly this time as I drop to my knees, pulling her jeans down as I go. I yank the pants off of her, one leg and then the other, and she looks down at me with hooded eyes. "No more jeans," I growl as I toss them to the side. "Wear a skirt to work tomorrow."

  "You're very… demanding," she murmurs, but that last word turns into a moan when I bring my face between her legs, inhaling her scent. She runs her hands over my head, and whimpers.

  "You have no idea," I tell her as I run my fingertips over the front of her cotton panties. Her wetness is visible on the fabric, and the fact that she's soaked through her panties makes me want to pick her up, push her up against the wall right here in the kitchen, and plunge my cock inside her. "You're wet."

  "I know," she whispers.

  I push the fabric to the side, my fingertips lightly stroking her pussy lips. "Do you want my mouth on you?"

  She exhales heavily. "Oh, God."

  I bring my mouth close to her pussy so she can feel my breath. "Is that a yes?"

  "Yes," she breathes.

  God, I love hearing her say yes. I don't bother pulling her panties off; instead, I rip the corner of the fabric, first one side and then the other, and let them drop to the floor.

  "You tore my panties," she whispers.

  "I know. You should stop wearing panties, too."

  18

  Lily

  He kisses the inside of my thigh, his beard brushing against my skin and sending a shiver up my spine. When he looks up from between my legs, his dark eyes practically smolder with lust. He's so close to my pussy that when he pauses to kiss the other side of my thigh, teasing me, the space between his lips and where I want him to be is agonizing.

  His hands wander over my thighs and then he grips my ass cheeks, pulling me against him as he covers my pussy with his mouth. I let out a groan that sounds like an animal as the sensation– warm and wet, radiating heat through my body – nearly takes my breath away.

  Then he groans, the sound sending little vibrations between my legs, and my knees almost buckle. It's been seven years since a man has had his tongue between my legs, and the feeling is so overpowering that I'm not sure if I can take it. His tongue circles over my clit, then lower, teasing me, taunting me. He sucks my clit into his mouth before releasing it, again and again until I'm letting out whimpering sounds that I can't seem to control.

  "Your legs are shaking." His voice is low as he looks up at me, his hands firmly holding my thighs. I think that's the only thing keeping me from collapsing right now.

  I nod. "All of me is shaking."

  Killian makes a sound deep in his throat, a growl that I think means he wants me to be a quivering mess. He sits down on the floor and gestures to me. "Straddle my face," he orders.

  "Come again?"

  "Exactly." He chuckles as he lies back on the hardwood floor. "Get your little ass over here and kneel down. Now."

  This man – this gruff, bearded, tattooed hulk of a man is telling me to kneel over his face. I hesitate for a moment, not because I don't want to feel his tongue on me of course I want to but because holy shit, no one has ever told me to kneel over their face before. I married young and my sex life was not adventurous, to say the least.

  "You can't just lay down on the floor in the kitchen," I protest.

  Killian snorts. "Do I look like I give a shit about the floor? Stop thinking."

  "I. . . " I start. Why the hell do I feel so damn. . . shy when it comes to him?

  He sits up, grabbing my ass cheeks and pulling me over his face, positioning me where he wants. "Stop thinking," he orders again. "You're going to put your pussy on my mouth right now and you're going to ride my fucking face until you come."

  "Shit, Killian," I whisper. "Who says stuff like this?"

  "A man who's hungry
," he growls, pulling me roughly against him. I lean forward to brace myself on a nearby shelf as he covers my pussy with his mouth. If I thought his tongue was skillful before, it's nothing compared to what he does with it now. His tongue laps me, strokes me, and probes me as his hands grasp my ass cheeks, pulling me tighter onto his mouth.

  His mouth. . .

  I can't think about anything else except his mouth covering me. His beard is rough against my skin, but it doesn't hurt; it only adds to the sensations that quickly begin to overwhelm me.

  His hands roam my back before he slides one palm to my breast, kneading it, his thumb stroking my nipple. I hear him moan between my legs, and the intensity of his desire for me only makes me hotter.

  Then there's no more inhibition, no more feeling self-conscious or wondering what the hell I'm doing kneeling over this man in the middle of my damn kitchen or what the hell kind of mother does this with a man she hardly knows. I lose myself in every flick of his tongue over my clit and inside me. Everything around me dissolves, lost in the sensation of his touch, his mouth, and the heat that surges through my body, pooling between my legs.

  I can hear myself making moaning sounds no longer the little whimpering sounds I made before but full-on groans and I don't care. I'm too far gone to care anymore. The only thing I care about is my overpowering need, the fact that I'm so close to crashing over the edge. My hands braced on the shelf, I ride his face, my movements faster as I get closer.

  His hands are on my ass cheeks, his fingers spreading me, and when he presses a finger against my asshole, I cry out. It sends me rocketing over the cliff, the intensity of my orgasm so overwhelming the relief of it so palpable that I think I scream. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over me, and even as I come, he doesn't stop licking me. He holds me against him while he fucks me with his tongue, and it makes me ache for his cock inside me.