by Leddy Harper
My heart wanted him.
I wanted him.
Killian sat back on his haunches and pulled my shorts and panties off my legs in one swift move like he’d done this before. He lifted one of my legs from behind my knee and softly pressed tiny kisses up my thigh until he settled himself into place again. His breaths blew against my sex, a place no one other than myself had ever seen bare, had ever touched. And now here he was, his mouth, his lips, his tongue so close to my center I couldn’t breathe.
When nothing happened, I opened my eyes to look at him, worried something was wrong. He regarded me with a soft expression, brows slightly knitted and lips parted just a bit. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Rylee. I didn’t know last night, and I don’t know now.”
We’d come a long way from the kids who mashed their lips together in hurried kisses. When it came to Killian, I didn’t lack confidence. Maybe that was because for a few years, my maturity and knowledge of life surpassed his. But when it came to sex, I seemed innately self-conscious. I’d never watched the kinds of videos he had. Porn never appealed to me. But I knew that’s where he learned everything, so I never questioned him. Seeing him now, so afraid, so insecure, my heart broke for him.
“It’s okay, Killian. I don’t know, either.”
“If I do something wrong…tell me. I don’t want to hurt you again.”
I nodded and ran my fingertip down the side of his face.
His exhale hit me just right and caused my back to arch. Killian wound his arms beneath my thighs, bringing my legs over his shoulders, and gripped my hips to hold me steady. He took one last glance at me before pressing a kiss to my lower lips.
And then the room began to spin.
The dimly lit space darkened even more.
One swipe with the tip of his tongue sent me into orbit. The second lit my body on fire, charring me from the inside out. Then he flattened his mouth over the spot I needed him most, and the warmth from his lips pulled a long, deep growl from my chest. I shuddered as my orgasm licked its way through my body, down my extremities, and sizzled in the tips of my fingers and toes.
It felt like when he’d touch me through my clothes, and I began to settle into his bed. However, it didn’t last long. Because a split second later, he licked me again. My eyes clenched tight, my thighs shook uncontrollably, and my fists gripped the sheet so hard my knuckles ached. Light exploded behind my eyelids, matching the eruptions going on inside. I was completely unaware of what my body was doing, never felt anything like it before.
My panicked breaths came out in harsh bursts of sheer desperation as he crawled up my body. Euphoria flooded my system with liquid heat and tremors I couldn’t control. I grabbed the sides of his face and brought his mouth to mine. No longer did I taste his morning breath, but something hot and a bit tangy. His lips were wet, but I didn’t care. The sweetness on his tongue left me begging for more.
More of what…I didn’t know.
Just more.
As he deepened the kiss, I ran my hands down his chest, not stopping until I reached the elastic band of his shorts. The second my fingers dipped inside, he pulled away, his stare hard and unyielding.
“No, Rylee.” It was meant to stop me, but the deep grumbles of his voice urged me on. He grabbed one wrist, using his other hand to hold him up. “This was for you. I don’t want you to do anything for me.”
“I know,” I whispered, sounding far more confident than I felt on the inside. “This is for me.” I wrapped my fingers around his hard shaft and pulled just enough to make him growl. When he lowered his mouth to mine again, feeding me his appreciation through moans and grunts, I used my hands and feet to push his shorts down.
With him completely bare to me, in my hand, inches from my aching core, I felt powerful. An illusion I never knew existed. It was what a few of my friends had talked about in school. The way it felt to bring a man to his knees. To be in charge of his wants, desires, thoughts, and actions. But Killian didn’t do anything other than kiss me. He didn’t push himself into the hold I had on his shaft. He didn’t tilt his hips or press for more. Instead, he remained still and let me touch him, his lips working mine over with complete control.
In a move I hadn’t expected, I lined the tip of his erection with my wet entrance. He stilled above me. His mouth left mine, but he didn’t back away. “What are you doing?” he asked, his eyes hooded.
“I want to feel you. Everywhere. Inside me.”
Killian shook his head slowly, never taking his attention off my eyes. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“After last night…”
“It’s okay.” I cupped his cheek and lifted my head until my lips landed gently on his. “I want this. I want you.”
“We’re not ready. You’re not ready.”
I hated how hard he tried to resist me. But that was my pride talking, bruised from his immediate rejection. I had to remind myself why. We were young. We’d agreed to take things slow, one step at a time. And he’d promised me he wouldn’t hurt me.
None of that mattered anymore.
I stroked him a little more and ran the tip between my folds, my arousal coating him. Again, I placed him at my entrance. This time, I locked onto his eyes and nodded, silently telling him what I wanted most.
“We can’t come back from this,” he argued.
“I know. I don’t want to.”
He closed his eyes and blistered my face with his exhale. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Neither do I. We’ll learn together. Just like with everything else.”
His hips bucked, which added unexpected pressure against my sex. I sucked in air through my teeth, the sound of a hiss forcing him to still.
“No…keep going. I’m fine.”
“What if you get hurt? What if I can’t control myself like last night? I hurt you, Rylee. I don’t want to do that again.”
“It’s fine. It’ll hurt, but I’m prepared for that. I wasn’t expecting it last night, but I am now. Please,” I begged, practically whining along his lips. “Please, Killian. I want this with you. More than I’ve ever wanted anything else.”
He peppered kisses along my cheek and slowly rotated his hips toward me. I held him in place while he pushed against me. I wasn’t sure if he was in or not, but it didn’t feel at all like I expected it to. It was just pressure…a lot of pressure.
“I don’t think this will work,” he breathed against my neck where he buried his head.
“It will. I think you just have to push harder.” I barely got the words out before he jerked his hips forward, pushing past the obstruction and entering me.
White hot pain seared through my lower half and I had to bite my lips to keep from screaming out in agony. I latched my wide-eyed gaze on the ceiling, and then his face came into view. Worry and shock lined his features, and his pupils were enlarged. His frantic breaths billowed past his parted lips.
We were skin to skin, his hips flush with mine. His heartbeat pounded through my chest, calling to me, syncing with mine. Beckoning every beat. Provoking every pulse. We were one, merged from our heads to our feet. Entwined. Linked together in the most intimate places.
“I didn’t mean to,” he rasped against my cheek.
“It’s okay. I’m fine.” My voice shook, unsteady from the dull ache throbbing inside. I urged him on with my hips, praying he missed the way my lip curled when I winced. Hoping he didn’t think too much about how tight I now had my eyes closed.
Once again, he buried his face into the crook of my neck, and slowly dragged his erection out until only the tip remained. His entire body shuddered as he gently pushed back in. I held my breath until it turned stale in my lungs, setting a fire within my chest. I’d expected pain, but hadn’t anticipated it to be like this.
After two more drawn-out rolls of his hips, his body turned rigid. His movements became harsher and his thrusts more punishing than the first one. He didn’t pull back far enough to gain mo
mentum, but what little advantage he did have, he took it, pushing inside me so hard his pubic bone slammed against mine with each plunge. Finally, he stilled, although his shoulders, arms, and legs tremored violently.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped against my neck, his apology grating over my skin. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” My meek voice was barely audible, but I knew he felt my fingertips grazing his bare back, his flesh slick with perspiration.
“No, it’s not. You’re crying.”
It only made the tears flow faster. I didn’t know how he knew, how he could tell, but he did. Even without looking at me, without seeing my face, he understood my pain. And claimed it as his own. Blamed himself.
“I’m so sorry…” he repeated.
Twelve
Killian
The mirror was foggy from the shower as I slipped my white T-shirt over my damp chest. Ever since my eighteenth birthday, it’d been a struggle to stay here. I’d told myself for so many years that once I got here, I’d be gone. I’d leave to find my voice.
But I can’t leave.
Not yet.
Not until I can take Rylee with me.
She’s the only thing keeping me here. The only person capable of calming the storm inside. It’d been ten years since the night my parents were murdered. Ten years since those fuckers came into my house and stole the most important people from my life.
And walked away.
They’d never been found. Probably because I never talked. Never gave the police officers answers. At the time, I’d been too scared to say anything, even though I knew the answers. Now, my recollection would be of no use. Too much time had passed, too much evidence missed. The fuckers would never see the inside of a courtroom.
I opened the door and flicked off the light, ready to head for bed. But as soon as I stepped into the doorway of my room, everything stopped. The world quit spinning, my lungs refused to work, and my heart gave up pumping.
Elise sat on the end of my bed, my notepad in her lap. Tears lined her face and sobs racked her shoulders. I didn’t need to see the sketch in front of her to know what she was looking at. I knew every single one of them by heart—some I’d drawn over and over again. But I glanced at it anyway, seeing the morbid scene, the colors bleeding on the paper from her errant tears.
I moved swiftly into the room and snatched the sketchpad away.
“I–I don’t understand, Killian. Why would you draw that?”
I flipped the lid closed before she could look at it again. She didn’t need to see in full detail what her sister looked like. The gaping hole in her neck. The blood. Her eyes wide in fear, devoid of life. Hell, I don’t even know why I’d drawn it so many times. Maybe to remember the evil bastard who did it. To remember what he took from me—and how. Or maybe to alleviate my mind of the images, to get it out long enough to keep the weight of my memory from crushing me. Whatever the reason, there were dozens of them just like this one.
Of my father, too.
And the men who viciously stole them from me.
I turned around to leave. My face burned so hot it felt like I stood beneath the intense rays of the sun in the middle of a summer day…not in my room just after ten at night. I pivoted on my heel, not knowing where to go or what to do. Anger tightened my fists and the thought of punching a wall filtered through my head. Visions of breaking my silence to scream at her for invading my privacy flashed before my eyes. The need to leave, storm out the door, and never come back grew stronger, louder, more intense than ever before.
“Killian.” Elise’s feeble, shaky, uncertain voice stilled me.
I couldn’t face her, couldn’t look into her eyes. So I stood with my back to her and waited for what she had to say. Knowing I’d done this to her tore me up. She never needed to see those images. It was bad enough I had—then, and every day since. But it wasn’t my fault she’d found them, wasn’t my fault she’d seen my nightmare. I hadn’t shown her. She did that on her own. And because of that, the rage inside wouldn’t die, no matter the level of sorrow coursing through me for her.
“You need help, Killian. You need to see someone. Talk to someone. This isn’t healthy—what you’re doing. Had I known…” She inhaled slowly, deeply, and it shook, shuddered. Each slight hiccup hit me in the back, delayed my heartbeat, and wound tightly in my chest until I couldn’t breathe. “Had I known this is what you were in here drawing, I would’ve sought help earlier. I would’ve taken you to see someone who could’ve helped with this.”
A growl started low in my stomach, and before I knew it, I’d swung around to face her, inches from her face, and released the burning fury through clenched teeth. The roar pushed her back a step, her eyes wide in fear, her trembling hand over her chest.
I didn’t want to scare her.
But I did.
And no matter how much pain it caused, I couldn’t stop.
I followed her retreating form, taking a step forward to match every one she took back, until she fell onto the edge of the bed, exactly where I’d found her when I came in. I hunched my back with my shoulders pulled taut, my chest puffed out. My violent breaths wafted over her face, but she didn’t move. She blinked her wide eyes at me. Her lips parted. But other than that, she didn’t budge against my visual assault.
“Killian,” she whispered and attempted to reach out to me, but I backed away. “Talk to me. On paper, with your voice…I don’t care how you do it. Write on the wall for all I care. But don’t push me away. I love you. I only want to help you. You shouldn’t have to live that night over and over again.”
I flipped the sketchpad open to a clean sheet toward the end. After so many years, there weren’t many pages left, but I found one. A fat black marker sat on my dresser. I had pens and pencils scattered all over the room, but that was the first thing I went for.
You can’t make it go away.
“If you talk to someone, it can help.”
No talking!
She read my words and then turned her glistening eyes to mine. Her lips pressed together as her chin quivered, and I realized she’d misunderstood me. An ache started behind my sternum, low and deep.
I can’t talk to anyone. No one can help me.
“They can, Killian. You just have to let them.”
I shook my head, but that didn’t stop her from continuing.
“You talk to Rylee. She helps, right? I’ve seen you with her. You’re different. Calmer. She makes the images go away, doesn’t she? But she’s not a professional; she can’t help you the way others can.”
I’ve been to doctors before. They don’t help. They only want to know what happened and I can’t tell them that. I can’t tell anyone. No one can help me. I underlined the last sentence a few times, reiterating it again. I’d write it a hundred times if it’d make her understand.
“Don’t you see? You’re drawing what happened. You have a notebook full of what happened. So why can’t you talk about it? Why can’t you tell anyone about that night? You remember…clearly you do if you’re sketching it.”
You don’t understand. I showed her the paper, but quickly brought it back to add more. You WON’T understand.
“You don’t know that because you’ve never let me. Try me.”
My hand itched to write it out for her, to tell her why I couldn’t say anything. But I knew that’d be useless. She wanted justice as much as anyone else, and she wouldn’t stop until she had enough information. Until the cops had enough information. But she hadn’t been there. She would never know the fear I’d felt, the rage I’d lived with, and the promise I’d made to myself.
I need to be alone.
She shook her head again and stood, her piercing stare preventing me from moving. “No. I’m not leaving. I’m not going to walk away when you need me the most. You’re eighteen, Killian. You’re an adult. When will you move forward? When will you be the man your parents hoped for…the man I helped raise you to be?”
I brought my
shaky hand to the paper, my anger so deep it sent shockwaves throughout my body, but she stopped me by touching my arm.
“You complete high school in a month. What do you plan to do after that? You haven’t worked through the worst night of your life, haven’t dealt with the pain and resentment and grief the way you need to. You’ll never be able to move forward until you do. And I don’t want to see you stuck in this place…in this dark, silent, sad place. I want to see you go to college—a real college, not online classes like you’ve talked about. You need a job, a career. A life. That’s all I want for you, Killian. I want you to be happy.”
I will be.
“When?”
When I’m no longer silenced.
Her shoulders fell and she dipped her chin. She released a long exhale, and the sound penetrated me. Cut me open. Embedded itself deep within my chest until I felt like I was bleeding out at her feet. I loved her, and I’d hurt her. It wasn’t my intention, but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t give in to her. Couldn’t give her what she wanted.
“You don’t have to be. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” When she glanced back up, fat tears curled over her high cheekbones, trickled into the soft, hollow spaces next to her mouth, and then hung from her dimpled chin.
I lowered my head and placed my lips next to her ear. “I’m working on it. My way. Let me do this the only way I know how,” I whispered in the lowest, softest, quietest voice I could. They were nothing more than words floating on air, no hint of my voice present, but it was enough for her to gasp.
Elise fell into my chest. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed against me. I wrapped my arms around her, wanting to comfort her. It was the first time in ten years I’d spoken to her.
Her back shook with each hiccupping cry.
Her shoulders bounced uncontrollably.
