by Amo Jones
@killiancornelii started following you on Instagram.
I freeze.
My heartbeat thunders through my ears. He started following me?
My finger hovers over his name. I click on his profile, not wanting to follow him straight back. When I get there, I wish I didn’t click on it.
21.2M Followers: Following 87
“Who the fuck has twenty million followers?”
“Me,” a voice says from my doorway and I yelp, tossing my phone onto the bed. Spinning around, I glare at him.
“What are you doing here?”
“Stand up.”
I gape at him. “What?”
He grins, and it’s then that I realize he’s not wearing a shirt and his jeans are sitting sinfully low.
Shit.
“Killian…” I warn, squeezing the towel around my body.
“I know,” he slurs slightly, walking farther into the room. “We shouldn’t do this, right? Because it’s fucking bad.”
“Yes…” I answer, slowly standing up from the bed while still clutching my towel.
“There’s only one thing wrong with that.” He comes toe-to-toe with me, his breath tainted with potent whiskey. His fingers flex around the top of my towel as my eyes come up to his. “I am bad. How the fuck are you so fucking beautiful?”
Everything inside of me turns cold.
He continues, his fingers sliding back and forth over my swollen breasts while still being tucked into the towel. “It’s a mindfuck.”
“Killian, you’re—”
He flicks the edge of my towel and I let it fall to pool at my feet. I’m standing in front of him. Naked. With nothing to hide my insecurity or his scrutiny. Some assume that an attractive woman is a confident woman, but that’s just not true. Self-esteem issues hide behind a range of faces, it doesn’t just appear on one particular type of person. I thought I was better at hiding my inner feelings, but obviously Killian has picked up on it. Watch the girls who smile too often and have no problem flashing skin. Insecurity doesn’t always come dressed in sweats, sometimes it walks in with its shoulders back and a smile on its face. Some are better at hiding it than others.
Sucking in a breath, I remember that I’m standing naked in front of him. It’s not so much the size of my body that I’m stressing about, it’s everything. Are my boobs too big? Too small? I know they’re not symmetrical. Bet his holy hands have only ever touched bodies that are Instagram worthy. At that thought, I squirm away.
“If you tell me that you’re insecure because of another man, Saskia, I’ll kill him.”
I lick my lips. I was expecting to see a smirk, or anything playful that he usually flashes, but his face is void of anything but solemnity.
“Killian, you’re drunk.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
He steps forward.
I step back. “You are.”
“I need to taste you, and then I’ll leave you alone.”
“What?” I almost yell, confused.
“Say yes.” The glint in his eyes alights with mischief. Killian is the kind of wild you want to run away with, not cage. He’s an untamed animal, turbulent and vicious.
Before I can register what I’m doing, I say, “yes.”
He drops to his knees and buries his face between my thighs. I grab onto his hair as he hitches one of my legs over his shoulder.
“Oh fuck…” My head rolls to the side, my bottom lip catching between my teeth. His tongue flicks over my clit in perfectly pressured licks before he presses his tongue against me and slowly shakes his head. This man knows entirely too much about this.
He groans, the sound vibrating over my clit as his finger dips inside of me.
“Killian.” The words fall from my lips fluently. He leans back, gripping onto my ass as he lays me back on the floor, my knees on either side of his face.
“Ride my face, baby.” He looks up at me from beneath his thick lashes, his bright blue eyes urging me silently to use him however I want. For as long as I want.
“I need you inside of me.”
“Not tonight.” He pushes me up, flips me around so I’m reverse cowgirl, and spreads my ass cheeks wide.
Before he puts his lips back on me, he calls out, “If any of you nosey fuckers wanna close the door, that’d be great, but you’ll be flashed with Saskia’s beautiful fucking ass.”
There’s chuckling down the hall. “Asshole.”
“Killian!” I scold, slapping his leg. “Stop be—” His mouth covers my pussy.
“Shut the fuck up and come on my face.”
My hips buck and I reach beneath his pants, grabbing onto his cock. Pulling it out, I gasp slightly when I’m finally met face-to-face with his heavy girth. Veins ripple beneath the skin, his head thick and glossy. I lick my lips and bend forward, sucking him into my mouth and curving my tongue around his base.
“Fuck,” he rumbles against my pussy. I lean forward, pulling him deeper into my mouth until he’s sliding down my throat. I gag, spit, and twist as I continue to devour him. The moans, groans, and occasional “Fuck!” only hyping me up even more. My nails dig into his inner thighs, I feel my body tense.
“Not yet,” he growls, squeezing my ass cheek tightly. His left hand slips beneath as he dips his index finger inside of me, circling.
“Killian…” I warn, attempting to ride his finger. “I need you inside me.”
“Not tonight.” His finger extracts and my mouth finds him again. He’s thicker than he was before, his cock pulsing slightly beneath my palm. His mouth comes back to my clit and he licks me down until his tongue is flicking inside of my pussy. His hand slides over the crack of my ass as his tongue presses against my clit.
I squeeze his cock in my hand, pumping him harder. I’m so close. So close. I could come undone just by thinking of the image that we’re displaying.
His finger slips into my ass as his tongue thrashes my clit and I’m done. I scream out my release loudly while making sure I’m still pumping his cock in my hand. Hot cum shoots up and hits me in the face, dripping into my mouth. I fall forward, ass in the air, as we both come down from the most intense oral I have ever received. Not that I’ve had it many times before.
Rolling onto my back, my hair sticking to my face from his cum, I turn to face him. “By the way, that was a one-off.”
Killian laughs loudly, and the sound itself sets off something deep inside of me that I’m not willing to explore yet. “Yeah, says the girl with my jizz all over her face and hair.”
“Hey!” I jolt up, covering my tits and glaring at him while scrubbing the cum off my face.
He rolls his eyes, grabbing my arms and stretching them wide, while pulling me back on top of him. I feel his chest rise and fall beneath me, my breathing matching his. “I swear to fuck I’ll kill whoever made you this insecure.” His voice is like a blanket being thrown over me when I didn’t know I was cold.
“Hmm, wish I knew the answer.” I push off from his chest and crawl off him, needing to put some distance between us because being in his arms feels way too good. Way, way, way too good. “I’m serious. A one-off. Unless you like claw marks on your thighs.”
Killian chuckles, pulling up his pants and standing to his feet. “Actually, I fucking do. Might keep them.” He looks down at me, tilting his head as he slowly takes in my body. As if he’s inhaling every curve, every bump, every flaw, and exhaling it back out through bared teeth. “One-off? I’d say challenge accepted, Little Hellhound.” He snatches up his shirt and swings it over his shoulder. I lean up, grabbing my towel and wrapping it back around my body, while knowing that I’m going to need to take another shower.
Taking a smoke from his jean pocket, he places it into his mouth and blazes it up. “After this show tonight, we’re heading back to Kiznitch.”
“Wait—what?” I’m shocked, momentarily distracted by the fact that he’s getting comfortable on my bed.
“Yeah.” He bl
ows out a cloud of smoke.
“I haven’t been there in so long,” I whisper. It was meant to be to myself, but the words catch his attention.
“Really?” He tilts his head. Distracting myself from the intensity of his energy, I scan over his hair. Ruffled nests standing all over his head. He has sex hair. From me. Us.
Nope, not helping. “Yep. I was a child, I think, the last time I was there.”
Killian stares at me. “And what else?”
I shrug him off. “And not much.”
“Hmmm…” he murmurs, leaning back against the headboard on my bed.
“Can you leave?” I say, pointing to the door. “I need a shower.”
“Nope,” he answers, flicking the ash of his smoke onto my floor. “Maya has had an accident and can’t be in my wheel anymore, and well, it was either you or Callan.”
I pause, my heart thundering in my chest. “Well then choose Callan.”
He stands, makes his way toward me and hooks his finger under my chin, tilting my head up to face his. “I’ll never choose Callan.”
I lick my lips. “What are you doing?”
He grins, flashing his pearly white teeth and smug smirk. “What I always do.”
My heart crashes and my face falls. I’m such a fucking idiot. I recollect myself before he notices my change of attitude.
His hand falls beside his body as he nudges toward the door. “Don’t bother showering. I like smelling me all over you. Get changed.” Then he disappears out of my room, allowing me to release a long, pent up breath.
Killian is intense and dramatic all at once, and I vowed to myself that I wouldn’t—couldn’t allow myself to be another one of the girls he sleeps with and moves on from, but I already failed that, so may as well fill in for Maya until she’s feeling better.
Changing in record time, I slip into yoga pants and a sports bra, throwing on a loose white shirt and tying a knot in the front to show my belly button. I make my way downstairs where Callan is hanging off his arm in the kitchen.
Killian tosses his head back and laughs at something she says. My face falls, just as they both turn to face me.
“You ready?” Killian eyes me up and down.
I sneer at Callan with obvious superiority. “Yup.”
She huffs, her smile faltering. I push past both of them and head for the door. I don’t want it to look like I feel a certain way about them, because I don’t. I know that they’ve been sleeping together on the regular, and besides that, I don’t, and won’t be sleeping with Killian again for more than one reason.
Killian catches up to me as I’m almost reaching the tent.
“Hey!” He grabs onto my arm, pausing my footing.
Breathe in and out. I don’t care. I shouldn’t care.
So why does it feel as though someone has punched me in my stomach? Why do I feel sick? Maybe I am sick.
I turn to face him, smiling. “Can we just get this over with? I haven’t been on a bike, let alone been on a wheel with one.”
His eyes narrow. “What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, slowly pulling my arm out of his grip and turning back to the tent. You can’t give a man like Killian ammunition; he’ll only use it to shoot you straight through the heart.
“You went weird…” he mutters, just as we’re passing the seating and heading straight for the center ring.
“Hey!” I ignore Killian and call out to Keaton, who is standing with Lucifer, one of the Six Demons.
Lucifer is hot for an old guy. With dark hair and a thick, dark beard, he’s everything that I pictured from a Game of Thrones set.
Lucifer regards me up and down until it gets weird, and he disappears into the crowd after saying he’ll catch Keaton later.
Keaton stares at me blankly. “What’s up? I thought you trained already?”
“She did,” Killian declares, wrapping his arm around my belly and tugging me into his chest. I try to wriggle my way out of his grip when Keaton notices the foreign movement.
“Is this a thing?” he asks, gesturing down to my belly. “And I’m not talking about the dried cum.”
I slip out of Killian’s hold. “Nope. It’s not.” Turning toward the wheel. “Okay, so what do I do?”
This show went as smooth as the one yesterday, only when it was time for me to hop into the wheel with Killian, I almost froze. Wearing the outfit I wore during my fire scene, I waltzed into the wheel, and pulled myself onto the swing. The Wheel of Death was dangerous without the swings, but with them it was even worse. Though the swings never moved, every time I went upside down, while Killian burned around me, was terrifying. You couldn’t see it from the audience, but I was locked to a harness that was connected to the metal swing. Aside from my success in ignoring him during the scene, I’ve made it my mission to skip out on Killian all night.
I’m ashamed for what I’ve done, but I can’t help it. I’m impulsive as a person, I only wish that I could have better prepared myself for how easily I would trip and fall on top of Killian Cornelii’s dick. Suddenly, I see why he has no problem getting girls.
I’m mad that I’ve slapped a number on my head.
The show ends and I head back to the RV, quickly washing up and slipping into a dress style suit jacket with white cuffs and Nike mid-tops. It’s a blend between classy and tomboy, which I’ve always found the style I heed toward when I’m not performing.
I’m pulling open my bedroom door when Killian is standing there, freshly showered and looking extra fuckable with black jeans that have tears in the knees and the word VALENTINO printed in white large letters that cross from one leg to the other. He matched it with a white Calvin Klein shirt and white Nike sneakers.
“Killian,” I sigh, pulling the door closed behind me. Why does he make this so hard?
“You’re coming with me.” He reaches for my hand, but I flinch away from him.
“Why? Can’t you take Callan?” I say, shaking my head. “And it’s only a few steps away.”
His brows rise. “You want me to take Callan?”
I look to the ground, catching sight of his bandana tied around his wrist. I have heard about the significance of these bandanas and what they mean, though I’ve yet to know if it’s myth or true, because if it’s true, that would mean that I live with serial killers.
I lick my lips. No. “Yes.”
His jaw flexes a few times, and I watch as his cold, distant eyes lose focus. He pushes off the wall and heads back downstairs.
Shit.
Why’d I have to say that? Maybe I was still sulking about this morning. Or maybe it’s because I can’t trust him and will never be able to trust him, so it’s better this way. I settle for the latter and head downstairs, then outside when I see no one is there. Few minutes later, I’m at Midnight’s RV where they have a fire pit burning and chairs laid out everywhere. People from the show and the workers and crew, all here drinking, laughing, chatting. Everyone but Delila, from what I can see.
I know Killian’s here. I felt him before I even tried to seek him out. We’re like magnetic forces whenever we’re in the same vicinity, which would explain why I’m struggling so hard to stay away from him.
“Sass!” Val waves me over to where her and Maya are seated near the fire. I head over, snatching a glass of wine on the way. I take a sip, sitting down on the chair.
“So, me and Maya were just saying how tired you must be from doing so many skits…” She’s right, I do have more scenes than the rest of them, but I’ve always liked to stay busy. I worked since I was at high school—not because I needed the money, but because I didn’t like to sit still for long. Hope was more than willing to pay for my tuition and did.
“I guess I like to keep busy.”
Maya chuckles. She stares off to the side of her, a drink dangling from between her fingers. I’d always found Maya beautiful. The kind that is effortless. She rolls out of bed this way.
“How’s your injury?” I ask Maya,
taking a small sip of my wine. I can already feel the effects of it seeping into my brain and taking hold.
“Oh, is that what he told you?” Maya glares at me, tilting her head back to drink the rest of her cup and then stands, walking away from us.
“Ignore her.” Val rolls her eyes, waving her off. “She’s just mad that you’ve gained the attention of Trickster.”
“What?” I scoff. “I haven’t. Not any more than anyone else, anyway.”
Val doesn’t answer, so I look back at her, only to find her studying me closely. Val has long blonde hair, a small heart-shaped face and a small dimple indented into her chin.
“What?” I ask when the silence becomes too much.
“Oh, nothing.” She leans forward, pouring more wine into her cup. “Just that you have no idea—”
“Val,” Lucifer interrupts us, taking a seat on the chair where Maya was. “Don’t you have someone else to torment?”
I lean back in my chair, momentarily distracted by her words. I drink more.
When the music switches to “Love is a Bitch” by Two Feet, my eyes flutter closed and I lean back in my chair, gazing up at the bright stars twinkling in the sky. I think I preferred being alone in my room.
“Not much of a talker, huh?” Lucifer breaks through my inner thoughts.
“Hmmm.” I smile without looking at him. I know men. I know boys. They see me, and they want to fuck me. It’s why I was so immune to Killian. I’ve never had a boyfriend, though I had plenty of options. I’ve never seen the point of it. Killian, though, he snuck up on me silently, like a black mamba. “Not really.”
Lucifer must stand, because more alcohol is being poured into the glass that’s hanging between my fingers. I sit up slightly to gaze up at him. He’s wearing a ripped t-shirt, fitted jeans, and military style boots. His beard is overgrown, but groomed, but his features are not old. I’d say he’d be mid-thirties.
He takes a seat beside me, and just as he moves, I see Callan sitting on Killian’s lap near the fire.
I freeze slightly. This is why I don’t lower my guard. Why I shouldn’t have given him the power or satisfaction of sleeping with me, because now, he gets to talk about it. He gets to know that he has seen me naked while having every other girl that he pleases too.
