The Maybe Series

by Ella Miles

  I deeply breathe out, trying to rid my body of the pain that has inched its way into every corner of my body. My arms are sore from being tied up on either side of my head, making my muscles ache. But the pain in my arms is nothing compared to the pain in my head. I can barely think straight due to the pounding, stabbing pain that continuously nags at me. Blood still drips from my lips and eye where Kinsley hit me. My back stings from being whipped multiple times, and my stomach is bruised from Kinsley’s kick.

  Overall though, the physical pain is nothing compared to the emotional pain I’m dealing with. I’m lucky really. The pain I endured after I was brought to this room was nothing. The simple whipping stopped as soon as I started talking. It wasn’t real torture. The men who were whipping me, their hearts weren’t in it. They were just doing their job.

  Real torture only happens when people truly care about what they are doing. When they aren’t trying to get information out of someone but instead doing it because they enjoy the torture themselves. That’s not what I experienced.

  If I’m lucky enough to live another night, I have a feeling I will get to experience real torture at the hands of Nacio or Santino. They hate me. They have a reason to torture me. They have a reason to make me pay for the pain I’ve put them through.

  But the pain they have dealt with is nothing compared to what they have put me through these last few days. The pain from thinking Kinsley was dead was unbearable. I shouldn’t have survived the pain they put me through. Somehow though, I’m still alive, barely hanging on. Somehow, I’ve managed to live long enough to see Kinsley alive again.

  It’s enough, seeing her alive. It’s enough to make all the pain I went through worth it. It’s enough to make my death worth it. My death that I know will be coming soon.

  Kinsley barely kept me alive today. She found a way to keep me alive, but I don’t know if she is keeping me alive for my benefit or hers. I don’t even know if she still loves me or just wasn’t heartless enough to kill me—yet.

  But, either way, the only way she will survive more than a couple of days is to kill me. And dying to keep the woman I love alive is more than worth it. I would give my life a hundred times if it meant she would get to live. It’s all I care about anymore. All I care about is that she lives.

  That is my only mission—to keep her alive at all costs.

  I don’t care why she is here. To join them. To bring them down. To protect her family. I don’t care. She just must survive this.

  My eyes grow heavy with each second, so heavy that I must sleep, but sleep won’t come easy. Not when my hands are tied up above my head and I’m stuck sitting on a cold floor. Not when the headache is worse than I want to admit. I try anyway though. I close my eyes and think of Kinsley and hope dreaming of her will be enough to lull me into a deep sleep.

  I let the image of her standing in front of me when I thought she was dead fill my mind. I see her standing there, strong and unbreakable, in her tight dark pants that show off the curve of her ass. I let my mind move up her body to her bare stomach that is smooth and perfect. Up to her bra that shows off her perky breasts that fit so perfectly in my hands. To her hair that somehow still shines, despite not being styled in days. To her plump lips that I want to claim with mine.

  I imagine a different meeting. A meeting where the second I see her, I run to her and never let her go. I run to her, and I don’t ask questions about what she is doing here or who she has become. I just take her in my arms and love her.

  I imagine ripping her clothes off and not caring who is watching because I need to be with her more than anything. I imagine her moans at the first touch of my hand on her bare breast. I imagine her screaming my name as I thrust inside her, expanding her, until she is more than full. I can practically feel her wetness covering my cock, more and more with each thrust. I feel the tight walls of her pussy contracting as I make her come hard and fast. I hear her screaming, but as soon as she gets the release out, it turns into barely a whisper that she repeats over and over, like a quiet plea for more.

  “Killian…Killian…Killian,” she says in her soft, perfect voice.

  I moan softly, loving how she says my name.

  “Killian,” she says louder.

  I grin wildly as she begs me for more, even when I know she isn’t ready for another round so quickly after we just finished.

  “Open your eyes, baby,” she says softly to me.

  I moan. I can’t open my eyes. If I do, she will be gone. I’m not ready to let the image go.

  “Open your eyes,” she says again. This time, she’s stroking my cheek so softly that I’m not sure if she is actually touching me.

  I begrudgingly open my eyes and expect her to disappear, but instead, I find her crouching in front of me. Her brow is wrinkled as she looks at me, biting down on her lip.

  I look around the room and realize I’m still in the prison they locked me in, except Kinsley isn’t just an image of my imagination. She is kneeling down in front of me.

  I reach my hand to touch her face, but the rope keeps my hand in place. I can’t help but smile at her even though I know she is risking her life to be here.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” I say.

  “I couldn’t stay away.” She reaches her hand up and gently touches me on the cheek.

  It stings wherever she touches, but I don’t tell her to stop. I can’t tell her to stop. I need her touch too much to let a little pain get in the way.

  “I’m sorry,” she says as she stops rubbing my cheek.

  “Don’t stop.”

  My eyes meet hers, and I see a tear fall down her cheek. A tear that I can’t wipe away, despite how much I need to.

  She slowly reaches her hand back to my cheek and touches me so softly that all I feel is the pleasure from her touch.

  “I’m so sorry I hit you. I didn’t know what else to do. I just couldn’t kill you. I couldn’t live if you were dead. I’m sorry I kissed Nacio. I just did it. I would have done anything to gain his trust and keep you alive. I just couldn’t kill you. I couldn’t kill you,” she says as her voice turns to sobs.

  “Shh,” I say, cursing the ropes for not letting me touch her. “Stop it. You have nothing to be sorry for, princess. Nothing at all.”

  She wipes the tears, but as soon as she does, more tears falls. “Yes, I do. I hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you. Ever.”

  I sigh. “You didn’t hurt me tonight. Seeing you alive brought me back from the brink of death. That’s all I care about. That you are happy and alive even if…” I can’t bear to say the next words. Even if you don’t love me anymore. Even if you never did.

  She stops crying immediately and looks up at me. “You think I hate you, don’t you?”

  I can’t look at her, so instead, I look at the cold, dark ground. I can’t answer her. I don’t want her to pretend that she doesn’t hate me when she does.

  I feel her hand reach around to the nape of my neck. She slightly lifts my head, forcing me to look at her. She bites her lip again as she looks into my eyes, trying to read my expression, but in my swollen state, I don’t think she is able to read any of my emotions.

  She pauses for a second longer, studying me, trying to understand, and then her lips are on my lips. Her tongue is in my mouth. Her hand is tangled in my hair. Her kiss demands me to kiss her back, and I oblige as best as I can. I push my tongue further into her mouth until it is tangling with hers. She moans loudly as I do, and as she deepens the kiss, I know there is no way she hates me. There is no way she could feel anything other than love for me. And I hate myself for doubting that love. I hate myself that one word—never—made me think that she hated me when I read the note she left in the bed and breakfast in Ireland.

  She slowly, reluctantly moves her lips from mine. She places her cheek against my cheek. “I love you. I could never hate you. I love you. I’ve always loved you. I always will,” she says.

  “I know, princess. I know. I love you always, too.”


  She kisses me hard against my cheek, holding the kiss for a long time, like she is preparing to say good-bye, but she isn’t. She is just leaning away from my face so that we can look at each other again, eye-to-eye.

  “You should go.” I force the words out of my mouth even though it is the absolute last thing I want.

  “I can’t. I need you too much first.”

  I suck in a breath, not able to stand the torture she is putting me through when she promises me something that can’t happen. I close my eyes, trying to break the connection between us. “You have to go. I need you to stay alive.”

  “I will. I will stay alive, but I won’t without having you first.”

  I shake my head and keep my eyes closed, ignoring what she is telling me she wants.

  “It’s not safe, Kinsley. There are cameras everywhere. There are guards. They can’t find you in here. You need to go. I need to know that you are safe. That you are alive.”

  Her lips touch mine, and I can’t keep my eyes closed anymore. They open automatically as she runs her tongue across my bottom lip. I could let her suck me. I could let her fuck me. I wouldn’t last. It would be over in a matter of seconds. I’ve missed her too much to last longer than that.

  “No,” I say sternly. “No.”

  “I am safe. I told Karp.”

  I narrow my eyes in confusion at the name.

  “The man who is on guard duty. I told him that I wasn’t done with you. That I needed to make you pay for what you did. I needed to make sure you weren’t hiding anything else. He thinks I’m in here, torturing you, beating you up. There are no cameras in here. We are safe.”

  “Thank fucking God.”

  She smiles brightly at me, but the brightness soon fades as more blood drips down my face. She moves closer to me, and I freeze as I watch her tongue move out of her mouth. I anticipate her running it across my lip again, but this time, it moves to the corner of my lip where blood is spilling. She slowly, hesitantly licks up the blood, and I can’t do anything but stare at how sexy she is as she laps up the blood.

  I can’t grab ahold of her with my hands, but it doesn’t matter because I grab ahold of her lips with my mouth and pull her into my mouth. I suck hard, tasting the mix of my blood and her in my mouth. Nothing could taste sweeter than the taste of us together.

  She suddenly pulls away, far enough away that I can’t pull her back in with my lips, and I hate that I’m tied up. She keeps her eyes closed, most likely reliving the kiss, just like I am.

  She opens them, and I see the somberness that has formed there.

  “What?”

  “I need you, but the only way I can have you is if they think I am hurting you. I can only have you if they think I am torturing you.”

  I nod. “Then, hurt me, torture me. I would do anything if it meant I got one more chance to love you.”

  “I’m not sure if I can though. I don’t think I can hurt you again.”

  “You can only hurt me by walking away and not giving me what I need.”

  “What do you need?”

  “You. I need you.”

  She thinks for a moment, and then I can see her desire for me overtake any reluctance at the thought of causing me more pain.

  “Go get the whip that is in the corner.”

  She turns from me and looks reluctantly in the direction where I nod. She doesn’t move. She just tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “Go.”

  She slowly walks over and picks up the whip that brought me so much pain earlier at the hands of Seth. And, now, it will bring me pleasure because it means I get to have her.

  She picks it up, and it looks awkward in her hand. I know I’m going to have to convince her it’s okay for her to hurt me. It’s more than okay. It’s what I want.

  My eyes turn dark with desire for her to claim me. My throat turns dry as I think of her taking me. My cock stirs as I think of her riding me, destroying me for any other woman in the world.

  She slowly walks back with the whip in her hand. She looks up at my tied-up hands with tears forming in her eyes.

  “At least let me untie you.”

  She walks to my hands and tries to untie me, but I know it is no use. She won’t be able to untie the knots—not without spending hours doing so, and that’s time we don’t have.

  “No.”

  Her hands freeze midair. “Why not?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t want you to untie me. I want you to hurt me. I want you to dominate me. I want you to make me pay for ever letting you go.”

  She steps back for a second, and I see her lust for me grow as she looks into my eyes to see that I am telling her the truth.

  “You’re wet for me, aren’t you?”

  She sucks in a breath.

  “You’re wet for me at just the thought of hitting me.”

  She bites her lip.

  “You’ve had this fantasy before. You’ve always wanted to be in power. In control.”

  I watch a tinge of anger mix with her lust.

  “But I never let you have control. Take it. Take control now.”

  I watch as the whip twitches in her hand, begging her to use it.

  “Hit me. Claim me. Make me pay for lying to you. For not telling you the truth.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  I smirk. I’ve gotten through. “Then, make up your mind already.”

  She hits me with the whip, and I feel the sting of it as it hits my exposed stomach.

  My smirk widens. “Is that all you’ve got? I thought you wanted to claim me. I thought you wanted to punish me for what I put you through.”

  She hits me again, and this time, I feel the passion behind the whip as it hits my thigh.

  “Stop talking. I’m the one in control.”

  She uses the whip again, and I feel it hard against my shoulder.

  “You don’t get to be in control anymore. Not after you lied to me again and again.”

  She walks forward and slaps my cheek hard with her other hand, causing me to moan loudly as my wound from her original hit re-opens.

  But she makes up for the hit by grabbing my chin and forcing me to kiss her hard and fast until we are both panting.

  When she releases me, she hits me square on the other cheek, and a grunt escapes my lips.

  She smiles. “How does it feel, not having any control?”

  She slides the end of the whip down my face, over my lips, and to my bare chest.

  My eyes darken, begging for more, at her seductive speech.

  “Princess, I’m not going to last if you don’t take me soon.”

  She shakes her head. “You’re not in control. I am.”

  I feel the sting of the whip hit my back, making me bleed, I’m sure of it. She doesn’t know that my back is already covered in sores from being whipped before. And I don’t let her know. She needs to do this. She needs to hurt me to stay safe, and I love letting her hurt me. I love letting her love me.

  Her eyes drop to my pants. My jail jumpsuit barely hangs off my hips, and my cock presses against the thin material, begging her to touch me.

  I watch with wide eyes as she lets the whip trail down my body until it is just over my cock.

  “Don’t,” I say, my voice a little shaky.

  She smiles and then lifts the whip above her head.

  I squeeze my eyes closed, afraid of where she is going to hit me. I cry out when she hits me the hardest she has yet, but she doesn’t hit my cock. She hits the inside of my thigh. It somehow electrifies me and makes me want her even more.

  I open my eyes and am rewarded by a naked Kinsley. My eyes grow wide at the sight of her naked before me. I strain my arms in the ropes, hoping that I can get out of them because I need to touch her so fucking bad.

  She smiles, watching me squirm. She takes a second longer to run her hand down her body, across her swollen breast and down to her pussy.

  I watch in anticipation as she moves her fi
ngers in circles around her clit as her eyes fill with lust. I can no longer breathe when her fingers dip inside her dripping pussy. I can’t think. It’s the sexiest thing she has ever done.

  Her grin grows larger as she sees me lose control when I suddenly call out her name.

  She immediately takes the whip and hits me again. My moan turns from pleasure to pain so that, if anybody were listening in, they would hear her torturing me instead of loving me.

  Her hand reaches down and touches my cock through the thin material of the jumpsuit, and I know I’m going to need her to hurt me a lot more if I’m going to cry out in pain instead of love.

  I bite my lip, trying to hold back a moan.

  “Hurt me,” I whisper. “Make it so that, every time I move tomorrow, I’ll think of you. I need more pain if I’m going to make it through this.”

  Her eyes intensify at my words. She releases me and walks back to the corner of the room. When she returns she has something behind her body, but I can’t see what it is.

  “Close your eyes,” she whispers softly into my ear when she reaches me.

  I hesitate for a second, realizing how much trust it takes for me to close my eyes. I do it though. I close my eyes and wait for the pain. It doesn’t come though—at least initially.

  Instead, I feel cold metal moving across my body. I feel her hand on my cock again, firmly gripping it. I bite my lip, causing more blood to spill out from the corner of my lip, to keep from calling out her name again.

  And then I feel the greatest mix of pain and pleasure I have ever felt. I feel cold metal spikes drive hard into my back at the same time as when I feel her claim me with her pussy, straddling over me.

  I scream loudly. Loud enough that I’m sure the whole building can hear me. It’s a painful scream, but at the same time, it’s a beautiful scream. It’s a scream that makes me love her even more because she knows so perfectly what we both need.