by Logan Fox
“Please. I’m sorry, okay? Please, don’t do this.”
It makes no sense, me apologizing. It should be him, groveling at my feet. But that’s not how this works, is it?
He messed up, and somehow I have to pay the price.
So instead of pity, instead of fear…a slow, furious anger starts to build inside me. And it feels good. Oh, fuck, it feels good not to have to hold back my fury.
Fuck him.
F. U. C. K. Him.
I bare my teeth at him. “Don’t you fucking dare,” I whisper furiously. “Touch me and I’ll scream.”
His belt clatters to the floor. He grabs onto the waistband of his pants, tucking his thumbs behind, and flexes his arms like he’s warming up his muscles. Muscles that gleam a sullen red in this room’s demonic lighting.
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I like listening to you scream?” he says.
My stomach drops straight into hell. I gape wordlessly at him as he climbs onto the bed and stalks toward me on hands and knees. I try and move back up the bed. My ankle restraints clank.
He’s so close now that I can see goosebumps break out on his arms.
This is turning him on. Oh God, I’m so royally screwed.
He grabs my inner thigh and wrenches one leg to the side, then the other. But his eyes are on me, drilling deeper, like he’s watching for the exact moment when I lose my shit.
If he likes it when I scream, then guess what? He won’t hear a fucking peep out of me. I clamp my lips closed and stick my chin out at him. And what does he do?
He fucking laughs.
He laughs, and then he slaps my pussy while he’s still wearing that infuriating smirk of his.
As hard as I try and keep my mouth closed, I can’t help but let out tight, “uh” of repressed pain.
Which turns into a shocked gasp when Cillian dips his head, gazes at my pussy like it’s the answer to every question he’s ever asked about life, the universe, and everything else, and drags his tongue right through my wet slit.
I almost go through the roof.
If I hadn’t been restrained, I’d surely have kicked or punched him. Instead, my body tenses like we’re mid-exorcism before dropping me back onto the sheets.
All while he’s watching me with a coy little smile, like I reacted exactly like he’d expected.
Doos!
I try to close my legs, but end up clanking at the restraints again. I groan in frustration—a sound that immediately cuts off as Cillian licks my wet, aching pussy again.
Slower this time. Harder.
I feel like I’m already coming apart, and that makes no sense. He hasn’t even gone near my—
The tip of his tongue flicks against my clit.
A hoarse scream rips out of me as my body convulses on the point of pain and pleasure so intense, I think I see fucking stars for a second.
My own arousal drips out of me, and Cillian uses a fucking knuckle to smear it over my pussy.
I clench my jaw as a shiver rattles through me.
“Still going to disobey me, princess?”
I shake my head no, my chest heaving.
“I’d like to believe you,” he murmurs, “but you have a habit of lying to me.”
His head ducks down, and it’s all the warning I have before he clamps his mouth over my clit. My hands go into fists as my body wrenches control away from me.
My hips buck, forcing his lips harder against my clit. But the sick fuck lets out a low chuckle as he leans back from me, denying me the pressure I need to build to a climax.
Instead, he slaps me again. And on wet skin, I feel that impact tenfold. I gasp, twisting away from him as much as I can.
“Sit still, or you’ll get another one.”
I freeze. Everything except my chest, of course. There’s nothing I can do about the desperate pants tearing through me. “Please,” I beg in a broken voice. “Cillian.”
“Please what, princess? Stop? Go faster? Harder? Slower?” He ducks down, and I lift my hips an inch before I remember his command. They thump back onto the mattress, and I let out a low, sullen whine as my core tightens to the point of pain at being denied his mouth sucking on my clit.
“Or were you serious when you said I could take what I want?” He sits back on his knees. If I thought he was hard before, it has nothing on the massive erection tenting his pants. I mean it’s not… romance novel big. But it’s definitely porn star big. As if he feels my eyes on his cock, he strokes himself through the fabric, a sly smile toying over his mouth. “Because, honestly, I’ve been wanting to stick my tongue in you since we met.”
Not exactly what I was expecting him to—
He drops between my legs, grabs my hips, and rams his tongue into my pussy.
If I’d been able to move, I’d have clamped my thighs around his head and never let him go. But he gives me one good, hard thrust of his tongue, and then moves away before I can urge him even deeper inside me.
“Fuck!” I yell, bouncing on the bed like a kid way past their bedtime. “Just…Ugh…just fuck me already!”
My voice is hoarse.
Cillian watches me for a second before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll think about it,” he says. “But first, there’s something I need you to do for me.”
“What?” I snap, feeling every inch the brat he accused me of being. “Spit it out.”
He laughs at me using his own words against him and then slaps my tit so hard I choke on an incredulous gasp.
“That’s two.”
Jesus Christ. How many strikes do I get? I whimper quietly while I wait for the sting to go away. “Sorry,” I murmur.
He holds up his hand, fingers strangely crooked. “You have five minutes,” he says, before he leans forward and rests his weight on one hand.
The fingers of his other brush my slippery entrance. I almost buck forward before I can stop myself. “To what?” I manage, barely able to form words as my panting picks up speed again.
And I was wondering if I could die of boredom? What about frustration? Or a heart attack?
“To make yourself come,” he says, a wicked smile flashing his teeth at me. “And princess, if you even try and fake it…” He rams his fingers inside me. “Then that’s three.”
I writhe around his fingers, frowning hard at him. “I don’t—what do you want—?”
His jaw tightens. “Four minutes,” he says.
“What? That wasn’t possibly—”
“Three minutes.”
The fucking—
He’s not moving his fingers, but they’re still lodged deep. A second ago he told me not to move, but now I have to make myself come?
Bit of a catch twenty-two.
“Two minutes.”
I want to belt out a whiny, “Come on!” but that might drop me to a whole sixty seconds.
That would be a new record for me.
So I glare at him, lift my hips, and start moving up and down the length of his fingers. And he rewards me by bringing his thumb down so that every time I move closer to him, he brushes my clit.
I groan and try and move deeper into his touch, but the restraints give me barely more than an inch or two of leeway.
Frustration builds faster than a climax ever could. But I know if I complain or do anything but exactly what he commanded, then I’d be out of time.
I don’t want to know what comes after the third strike.
Except…of course I fucking do.
But I’m a terribly sore loser, and it’s been a long time since someone challenged me like Cillian has.
Perhaps ever.
Pain and pleasure mingle in my core as I start to ache hard and deep. As my arousal builds as slow as snow settling on a fucking mountain top.
Sure, there’s an avalanche in my future, but more likely I’ll have passed out from hyperventilating long before that wall of snow crashes into me.
Only one way out of this. And without breaking his rules.<
br />
He’s got to be the one to cave, not me.
So instead of suppressing my groans, instead of holding back my own giddy pleasure…I let myself lose control.
Utterly.
My eyes flutter half-closed. I don’t speed up—I slow down. Now I can feel every inch of his fingers sliding into me when I flow forward, and every inch when I withdraw.
I let any sound that wants slip out of my mouth. Whimpers, mewls, moans. Fucking anything. My pants mingle with those desperate pleas for release, and I know I sound ridiculous, but…
Cillian’s lips part.
His chest starts rising and falling ever faster.
It’s when his eyes drag down my body and settle on my pussy that I know I have him. I know I’m soaked—I can feel his fingers dripping when I push them into me.
“Please,” I whimper. “I can’t—”
“You’re doing this on purpose,” he growls, angry eyes flashing back up to my face. “Go faster, and you’ll come.”
I moan like I’m too lost in my own pleasure to understand what he’s saying. And in a way, I am. Because I have no idea if that anger is the kind that will have him crushing me under him and taking what he wants…or destroying everything and anything I ever try to build.
He slaps my tit so hard I gasp. Then again. But I can’t feel pain anymore—it’s all so fucking good. When he slaps my breast a third time, baring his teeth at me like a wild animal, I can’t help but laugh at him.
He did this to himself, with his rules and his commands.
And I think he realizes that, because there’s a second where it looks like he’s going to finish me off by ramming his fingers into me until I have no choice but to break apart for him…
And then he pushes away and yanks my restraints off me.
As each of my limbs come undone, his movements become more aggressive. By the time he’s on my last wrist, I hear something tear out of the wall behind when he wrenches the leather cuff away from me.
My body goes cold. Air traps in my lungs as my throat closes. I open my mouth to apologize, to beg, to do anything I can to stop him.
Do you purposely tear down his walls knowing it will release the animal he keeps caged inside? Trish wants to know. Or is that just a pleasant side effect of disobeying him, do you think?
Trish…you should get the fuck out of my head. You don’t want to be here for this.
Cillian claps a hand over my mouth before I can get a word out.
Well, fuck.
“That’s three,” he whispers into my ear as he straddles me.
I wrench my head away from his hand and get out half a furious shriek before he sits up, grabs my hips, and flips me over.
Air rushes out of me as he bears down on me with his full weight. It should terrify me, not being able to move, barely being able to breathe.
But this is what he does when you’re wild and crazy and uncontrollable. When you wake up from your dreams and you’re caught between the past and the present, paralyzed.
This is how he puts you back together again.
Fabric whisks. He lifts his hips, and when he settles down again, it’s with his entire naked body flush with mine.
He grabs a fistful of my hair, keeping my head pressed into the pillows. The other he uses to arrange my body how he sees fit.
Still flat on my stomach, he sinks his fingers into my thigh and yanks me open.
When I start struggling under him, his only response is to warm my ear with a cruel chuckle. “Go ahead. Fight me. You’ve earned it.”
There’s a breathless moment where I’m scrambling to figure out if this is another trick—
Cillian shoves a knee between my thighs, parting my legs just enough for the flat of his hand to slide over my pussy.
He grabs me, squeezes me so hard I gasp.
And then I do fight him, because he seems to not have a grasp on when to hurt me, and when to please me.
And that fucking hurt.
So I struggle under him, turning my face up and sinking my teeth into the shoulder closest to me.
And despite the fact that I taste blood, he doesn’t give a fuck. He laughs it off with another arrogant chuckle, and then forces his other knee between my legs.
Spreading me wide.
He runs his hand over my pussy, smearing me with my own arousal, readying me for his cock.
“Glad you’re enjoying this,” he murmurs as he swipes his thumb over my hole, sending electric panic through me. “I didn’t want to go fetch lube.”
“No!” I whimper, twisting left and right to avoid his finger. But he doesn’t give a fuck, and if I haven’t realized that yet…well, I guess I’m in much bigger trouble than I used to be.
But instead of easing a finger inside my backdoor, he uses his fingers to spread my pussy.
When his cock touches my entrance, my body goes rigid.
So he drags his hand out of my hair and wrenches my hips off the bed. Then he folds over me, molding me against his hard body as he slides his crown up and down my slit.
My core constricts. He growls deep in his throat as my juices coat his dick.
Cillian pushes his cock against me, and my body opens for him despite how I clench to keep him out.
The groan he lets out as he forces the first inch of his cock inside me rumbles over my back. I gasp, my fingers twisting the sheets on either side of my head.
“My fuck, princess.” His rough voice sends a tremor through me, but when he forces himself another inch deeper, my entire body begins to tremble. “I’ve never fucked anything as tight and wet as you.”
As he gives me another inch, the pain comes. Not as bad as my first and only other time…but Cillian is twice—if not more—the size Alex had been. I’m not a virgin, but I feel every inch one as my pussy stretches to accommodate his thick cock.
I let out a breathless gasp, and then whimper as tears prick my eyelids.
“Those tears won’t stop me,” Cillian hisses into my ear. “You’re going to take every fucking inch of me.”
“I can’t,” I whisper. “Please, it hurts.”
“I said I’d break you.” His fingertips sink into the hollow of my hip bones. “Did you think it wouldn’t hurt?”
Using that fierce grip, he holds my ass steady as he thrusts the rest of his rock-hard cock into me. My scream is breathless, confused, panicked.
He stays buried inside me, but then he starts moving his hips. Coaxing me into doing the same. A slow, wide circle that digs his cock even deeper into me with every revolution.
I’m panting into the sheets, and as if he remembers I have a mouth, he grabs my hair with one hand and wrenches up my head.
When he crushes his mouth against mine, my core grips him. He groans into my mouth, and that sound ignites something primal deep inside me.
I reach behind me, sinking my nails into his thighs, his hard ass, his waist. Leaving ridges behind as I claw at him.
He mutters a furious, “Fuck,” into our kiss, and then his fingers are on my clit.
Cillian sits up, bringing me with him. He uses his knees to keep my legs parted wide as he strums my clit, his cock still trying to burrow all the way inside me.
Grabbing my hips he begins urging me up and down the length of his cock. My head falls back onto his chest, breathless pants leaving me every time he fills me, stretches me.
As soon as I have the rhythm, his fingers return to my clit.
“Now you’d best come for me, princess.” He slings an arm around my waist, driving himself balls-deep inside me.
And stays there, impossibly thick, deliciously full, as he begins massaging my clit hard and slow.
Electric tension whips through me and builds in my core. My entire body goes rigid.
“Come for me, princess,” he murmurs into my ear.
I turn my head, and he catches my lips with his. Soft, gentle, slow—such a stark contrast with the impossibly fierce pressure he’s applying to my clit, with how his co
ck is impaling me.
And as his tongue forces its way into my mouth, as Cillian takes everything as his…
I break.
I wrench my mouth away and let out a wordless scream.
But he doesn’t stop strumming me. And the pleasure turns to pain. I try and grab his wrist, try and get him to stop, but he just growls and pushes me onto my hands and knees.
Then he fucks me from behind, our bodies slapping together with every brutal thrust.
Impossibly, I surge. Impossibly, I’m at the point of breaking again.
And he must feel how I grip him with my hot, aching pussy, because he grabs my hair in a fist and yanks me back for a desperate kiss.
His hot cum fills me as his cock rams into me, jarring me, and sending me so high, I don’t know if I’ll ever come down. I scream into his mouth, and he captures every piece of me that tumbles out.
He slides his hand over my pussy, and slowly moves his cock in and out of me, mixing his cum with my arousal until I’m dripping.
“I told you,” he murmurs into my ear as his chest flexes against my back with every breath. “I’m putting you back together the way I want you. And when I’m finished... you’re going to be like me. You’re going to be fearless.”
And I believe him.
Dear God, I believe him.
Continue Cillian & Meisie’s Story
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A FEW WORDS
.
I (Esme) always do these Author Notes because I like to pretend I’m an author. Logan doesn’t, because she likes to pretend she’s shy. I’m taking a leaf out of Cillian’s book and making us have the damn author notes, princess.
Well. I think I speak for both of us when I say I have absolutely no idea where this came from. It might have started with a drunk quarantine-Zoom party but at that point we were just going to write a Mafia book. Kidnapping, arranged marriage, growl, grunt, a dubious situation or two (or several) and that was that.
The minute we started writing it morphed into… I don’t know how to describe this. The brainchild of a mental Scottish nut and a South African loon. But I love it. We love it. I love the heroine Logan created and I’m already planning to marry Cillian (he’s real, I’m keeping him in my attic).
