by Nichole Rose
He grips me hard, pulling me closer, until both of my legs are thrown over his shoulders. His possessive hold on my ass is the only thing keeping me from hitting the floor. He growls my name, using his entire face to get me off. There's nothing slow and sweet about it. Nothing gentle. He's a beast, taking what's his to claim.
And my God, I never want it to end.
I clutch at his hair, grinding shamelessly against his face. I can't stop myself. Something else is in control now, the part of me he woke up yesterday. The one that wants to be naughty and defiant and live for challenging and rattling this man. It grows bigger, brighter inside me as he eats me, groaning my name and kneading my ass in his rough hands.
My heart thunders in my chest like a war drum. Sweat breaks out on my skin. He thrusts his tongue into me, fucking me with it. He's not gentle there either, snarling against my pussy as he fights to get it inside me, to claim that part of me too.
He spreads my cheeks apart, rocking me against his face. His nose grinds against my clit. His stubble abrades the sensitive skin on the insides of my thighs. If this is what heaven feels like, I never want to leave.
"Killian!" I shout, surprised when I feel his tongue against my back entrance. It feels good, better than I ever imagined that would feel. He presses against the tight ring of muscle, jostling his tongue back and forth until I'm sobbing his name so loud my throat hurts.
"Goddamn," he growls, pushing away from the door with his hands.
I cry out, afraid I'm going to fall, but he holds me like it's easy, moving us until I'm sprawled out on the cool hardwood. He spreads my thighs wide, holding them down. His tongue swipes through my folds again, striking against my clit with startling precision. I grow wetter, wilder, more desperate. The cold wood at my back does nothing to cool me down. There is an inferno raging inside me, growing bigger by the minute.
I've touched myself before, but I already know what's coming is more massive than anything I've ever felt. It's going to destroy me, leave me in broken, jagged little pieces. I guess it's a good thing I'm already on the floor.
He seams his lips around my clit, pushing one finger inside me, and then another. He fucks me with them hard, not letting up. He's relentless, implacable. God, he's a machine.
I scream his name, bursting apart at the seams. My climax hits hard, blinding me with pleasure. I sob, writhing my way through it. I lose myself in it and the overwhelming peace it sends careening through me. Everything falls away except the pleasure. And there is so much of it. My God. He really is ruining me.
I love it.
When I come back to myself, Killian's on his knees between my thighs, naked. His cock is long and thick, the head almost purple. He's so much bigger than I'm prepared for. Jesus, he's going to split me down the middle with that thing. I want him to do it. So badly I tremble beneath him.
"Killian," I whisper.
"Fucking perfect," he grunts, leaning forward to kiss my belly and then nip at my waist. He shoves his hands under my ass, yanking me toward him. My legs fall open wider, giving him more room between them. His jaw is clenched tight, stark hunger stamped across every line of his face as he stares at my wet sex.
He lines himself up at my entrance, dragging his gaze up to mine. "Can't wait, baby girl," he grits out between his teeth. His chest shudders up and down, his breath a harsh pant. He's discomposed, undone. More beautiful than anything.
"Don't wait," I whisper back, reaching out for him. "I need you to make me yours, Killian."
"You're already mine."
He's right. He has no idea how right he is.
"It's going to hurt," he mutters. "Don't know if I can be gentle."
I don't think I want it gentle. He told me he likes it rough…I want to see him like that, want to feel how rough he can get. I already know having him inside me is going to knock my world out of orbit, completely change the trajectory of my life.
"I don't want gentle."
A little bit of the devil peeks out from his eyes again. He grabs my hands in his, holding me still beneath him…and then he thrusts into me hard. My body resists the intrusion for a moment before finally letting him in. At first, I feel pressure, and then he thrusts deeper.
A sharp bite of pain rips through me as my virginity gives way, shredding. It hurts like hell. Tears sting at the backs of my eyes as the pain worms its way through me. I try to wriggle away from it, to make it hurt less, but he has me locked in place, refusing to let me go. I fight him, but it gets me nowhere. He's an implacable wall of muscle.
"Breathe, Liberty," he growls, his gruff voice cutting through the fog of pain. "You can take it, baby girl. Breathe."
I suck in a deep breath and then another, expel them on a sob.
"Good girl," he says.
My inner muscles clench around him at his praise. The pain slowly starts to dim and fade. Killian watches me like always, assessing, studying…reading me like I'm his favorite book. I think he's trying to stay still, but he keeps moving, pushing deeper before easing back a little, like he can't stop himself. His muscles are all locked up tight, practically bulging with the effort he's expending.
Knowing that he's this worked up, that being inside me has him fighting for control is a powerful feeling. I clench around him. His lip curls back, a growl leaving his lips. He pulses his hips again, pushing deeper, until he's fully seated in me.
I feel him everywhere.
"So fucking tight," he groans. "Goddamn, baby girl. You're my new favorite toy."
Pleasure slowly creeps in, taking place of the pain. He feels massive inside of me, stretching me. I'm so full. And he looks like a God above me, so powerful and fierce.
He releases my hands to yank me up onto his thighs.
"Going to fuck you now," he warns me.
"Yes."
The plea barely leaves my lip before he's moving, raging like a storm against me. He grips my ass, using it to yank me down onto him and then push me off. I cry out, shocked at how good it feels, at how incredible he looks with his muscles all working together. His jaw is clenched tight again, his lips curled back from his teeth.
He takes me hard, fucking me so deep it knocks the breath out of me over and over. He falls forward, catching himself on his forearms. His teeth latch around my nipple, biting hard enough to have me clawing down his back.
He seems to like that.
"Mark me," he growls, releasing my nipple to drag his teeth down the tendon in my neck. "Let everyone see what a dirty little virgin you are, Liberty. Let them know that I popped your cherry and you fucking loved it."
Jesus, his mouth. The filthy things he's saying have me writhing beneath him. Every thrust grinds his pelvis against my clit, sending me spiraling toward another orgasm.
"Jesus Christ. I'm never leaving this cunt," he swears, biting my neck and then moving to my mouth to bite my lip. He thrusts his tongue inside my mouth like he's fucking me there too, like he needs to have as much of himself inside me as possible. "I'm going to have you on your back, begging for my cock at every opportunity."
"Please," I plead, more than willing to give him that if it means letting him make me feel like this.
He yanks my thigh up over his hip, changing the angle. He pounds into me, relentless, ruthless. My back inches across the hardwood, my hair getting caught in small imperfections in the wood. The way it pulls drives me higher, makes me plead louder.
"I'm your God now, baby girl," he says on a wicked thrust. "This pussy belongs to me."
"Yes!" I scream clawing down his back again and writhing as he strikes some magical spot inside that has me seeing stars. He seems to know what he's found because his eyes light up and he does it again and again, cursing and snarling like a beast every time he hits that spot and my walls clamp around him.
"Going to fuck a baby into you," he says in my ear before biting my lobe.
I cry out at his words, the coil in my belly winding up tight at the thought.
He slips one hand betwee
n us, sliding his fingers through my sticky folds before moving it lower. He touches my back entrance, pressing against the tight ring of muscle like he did with his tongue. Only he doesn't stop this time. He pushes until his thumb slips into me.
I moan at the foreign sensation, stunned all over again by how good it feels to be touched there. He seems to know how much I like it. He groans my name, pushing that finger in and out of me, toying with me until I'm on the edge, overwhelmed with pleasure.
"You want to come?" he asks, his gritty voice raking across my senses.
"Yes, please, Killian," I plead, not above begging. Need claws through me so fiercely it's almost painful. I need to come or I'm going to explode into tiny pieces. There won't be any putting me back together again if I do. I already know it. The pressure is too much, too powerful.
"Come on my cock and make me a daddy." He pumps his hips, fucking me hard. His hand is caught between us, his thumb moving in and out of me. The dual sensations and his dirty words are my undoing.
My legs lock around his waist, my back bowing off the floor as the orgasm hits me. I cry out over and over, sobbing as the pressure detonates deep inside and ripples outward, submerging me in choppy waves. My pussy grows wetter as I drown in the pleasure, my nails in his skin and his name on my lips.
He roars my name into the room, thrusting into me hard enough to steal my breath as my orgasm pulls his own from him. I feel his cock jerking as he comes inside me, feel the heat of his release spreading through me, coating me in him.
Knowing there's nothing to stop him from getting me pregnant sets off a tidal wave of aftershocks. They swarm through me one after the other. I thrash and cry out, trying to pull him closer, to keep him as deep inside me as possible.
He seems more than content to stay there.
"Liberty," he groans in my ear. "Jesus Christ, you're strangling my cock." He circles his hips, grinding against my clit, working every last bit of pleasure out of my pliant body as he can. He's greedy for it, determined to claim me all the way down to my soul.
And then he steals even that, possessing me thoroughly with three whispered words.
"I love you."
Chapter Six
Killian
Liberty and I don't make it to my house. We barely make it off the living room floor, but I know she can't possibly be comfortable after I fucked her like a beast. I feel a little guilty about that. She was a virgin and I took her hard. I know she got off on it though. I also know she heard what I said…but she didn't say it back.
She's quiet as I pick her up, carrying her down the short hall to her bathroom. I turn the shower on and let it heat while I cuddle her against my chest. Neither of us speaks, but it's a comfortable silence. Once the water is warm enough for her, I pull her into the shower, and clean her up, taking my time.
She melts in my arms, letting me take care of her. I can't resist placing kisses all over her as I wash her up and rinse her off. Keeping my hands and mouth off her is going to be a never-ending struggle. She doesn't seem to mind.
She's pliant in my arms, purring like a little kitten while I wash her hair. I try to be gentle with the tangles so I don't hurt her. Gentleness seems to come a little easier the longer I'm around her, like being with her is breathing life back into that part of me that I thought I'd lost to the stench of war long ago. It wasn't lost though, simply buried. But the need to care for her overrides everything else, bringing that softer part of me to the surface.
The hot water doesn't last long. By the time I wash her up, it's lukewarm. But I've bathed in frigid lakes and worse. Spots of her blood stain my cock. The sight of it sends a wave of possessiveness through me. She's mine now, tied to me in ways that can never be undone.
I reluctantly wash off her blood before turning the water off and leading her out of the shower.
Once she's dry, I scoop her up in my arms and carry her to bed.
Her bedroom, like the rest of her house, is warm and inviting. Her four-poster bed dominates the small space. Her walls are a soft lavender and gray, with a brighter purple pentaptych hanging on the wall above the bed. Each of the five panels show part of the same watercolor scene. Her bedding matches the painting. The hardwood floor is covered in a plush rug that matches the gray in the walls. There's a small chair in one corner, and a dresser in the other, with matching tables on each side of the bed. The room is comforting more than girly, an oasis of tranquility.
I pull the covers back and lay her on the sheets, pressing a kiss to her temple. She curls up with a soft sigh, already on the verge of sleep. She looks so goddamn beautiful with her hair still damp, no makeup on her face, and my marks all over her. My dick stirs at the arresting sight, gearing up for another round. He's not going to be satisfied tonight. I already know she's going to be sore.
The reminder keeps me from crawling into the bed beside her. I backtrack out of the room into her bathroom. I prowl through her cabinets until I find a bottle of Tylenol and shake two out into my hand for her. I fill the little cup by the sink with water.
My shoulders are a mess of angry claw marks. I'm sure my back probably matches. She's a little lioness in bed, more than capable of taking me. I fucking love it.
She watches me with wide eyes as I stalk toward her, breathless all over again at how beautiful she is. Her body is incredible, lush in all the right ways. Her tits are more than a handful, her waist trim before flaring out to her wide hips. She was made to carry babies.
I hope I bred her the first time, hope my seed is already taking root.
"Sore?"
She shakes her head, her eyes drifting from mine.
"Liar," I mutter, holding the Tylenol out to her. "I was rough with you."
She licks her lips, meeting my gaze again. "You didn't hurt me. I liked it."
Thank God for that.
"Take these anyway," I order her, worried she'll wake up sore tomorrow if she doesn't. The thought of her in pain makes me feel like someone has a hook in my guts, twisting it.
She shakes her head at me but takes the Tylenol anyway. She hands the glass back to me when she's done.
"What's your code?"
"Hmm?"
"Alarm code. What is it?"
"Oh. 8675."
I stride out of the bedroom to lock up and arm the system. I'm more than capable of killing to protect her but having an alarm to alert me if anyone tries to get close will help me rest easy. Because I already know I'm not going to be able to do that with her here to protect. She's necessary for my survival now, far more precious than anything else in this world. I'll guard her with my dying breath.
I set the alarm, lock the door, and then gather up our clothes.
She's still awake, watching me with the same wide-eyed expression on her face when I make it back to the bedroom. I can see her mind working, see her trying to process my confession and the fact that she gave me her virginity. I don't rush her. That's not why I told her how I feel. I needed her to know that she matters to me, that my heart belongs to her.
I've been at war so long, I forgot what peace felt like. I gave up thinking the American Dream was something I could have too. I know better now. This brilliant, beautiful woman gives me what I haven't even let myself dream about before now: Peace. Hope. More. My future is in her hands, and I've got all the time in the world for her to realize she loves me.
I already know she does. She never would have spread those legs for me if she didn't. But she has to work it out for herself. She's been neglected by the world for far too long. She's skittish, afraid to trust. I'll wait however long I have to wait for her to let those walls come tumbling down completely.
I toss our clothes in the chair in the corner. She watches every move I make with those wide, sleepy eyes. She opens her mouth and then closes it. Does it again. She wants to say something. I wait her out, not rushing her.
I crawl into bed beside her before pulling her into my arms. She comes willingly, snuggling up against my chest. One arm slide
s across my abdomen, her feet tangling with mine beneath the covers. A sweet little sigh washes across my chest.
I reach over and turn off the lamp, casting the room into darkness.
Finally, she speaks.
"Did you mean what you said?"
"Yeah," I murmur, smiling in the dark. "I meant it."
She processes that for a minute, turning it over in her mind, absorbing it.
"Okay," she whispers then. "I…"
"Don't have to say anything," I say, cutting her off. "Didn't say it so you'd say it back. Just thought you should know where I stand. We've got time, as much as you need."
"Okay," she whispers again.
I kiss her on the forehead, and she settles back down in my arms, letting me hold her again. My hand drifts through her damp hair, my eyes drifting close.
This is heaven.
"Is Liberty here yet?" I ask Kathy, stopping at her desk on my way in. I had to run home and change, so Liberty drove herself. I didn't like it. Holding her all night and waking up with her still in my arms was utter goddamn perfection. She looked so sweet this morning. I desperately wanted to fuck her, but I resisted the urge. She didn't like that much, but I know she needs a break.
Leaving her to go home was hell. Her place is small, but it's a home. Mine is just the place I go to at the end of the day. My shit is still in boxes, my walls bare. Maybe that's not a bad thing though. It means she'll be able to change whatever she wants, however she wants because her place isn't big enough for a family…and we're definitely going to have one of those.
The more I think about a future with her, the more I want it all.
"Haven't seen her," Kathy says, handing me a stack of checks. "Those need to be signed so I can get them in the mail. And the plumber called. He's trying to track down a part he needs to finish up in the kitchen. Also, the washer delivery will be here in twenty minutes."
I tuck the bag of food I picked up for Liberty under my arm to take the checks from Kathy. "Good. Call Stavros and tell him to meet me in A Wing in fifteen."
