Chapter 12

Tori Townsend

It was not an awkward silence on the way back home. In a husky tone, he spoke dirty things to me. Things he wanted to do, how he wanted to do them, and places he wanted to do them. I get the feeling that he's going to be more than I've ever handled, and instead of being scared, I'm even more curious. To say I was wet by the time we pulled into the driveway is an understatement. I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning out loud just by the imagery.

He didn't touch me though. He kept his hands to himself, and somehow, that made it that much more enticing. More invigorating.

With him behind me, and with the sky opening up and drenching us, I shakily try to put the key into the door. I can feel his body heat because he's standing so damn close, and it's practically a promise to all the things he told me in the car.

The keys drop from my hand onto the ground, and I curse under my breath. He chuckles and squats to grab them. But he doesn't rise. Instead, he looks up at me, and those damn eyes. They hold wicked intent.

The front of his shirt, where his jacket doesn't cover him, is as soaked as I am from the rain, and it clings to his pec muscles. Through it, I can see the distinct shape of two objects, and it's then and there that I realize his nipples are pierced. Shit, help me.

I meant what I said. I'm a sucker for walking red flags. For the bad boys, and he checks all the boxes that any normal person should avoid.

Droplets drip from his wet hair and down the side of his face, but he doesn't swipe them away. My chest rises and falls dramatically as he moves his gaze down my body, hovering over my pebbled nipples, which are definitely visible through my soaked shirt, and all the way down until they land on the hem of my sweatpants.

The way he stares makes goosebumps rise over my skin, and it has nothing to do with the rain. It's like he's guessing at what treasure he'll find inside. With one hand, he reaches, tucks a finger under the hem, and skims just above my pussy.

My damn legs tremble, and he knows it because a smirk takes over that damn sexy mouth.

He dips his hand a little lower, over the hill of my pubic bone, and grazes my clit. I suck in a sharp breath and jerk because, honestly, it's been a long damn time since someone has touched it. And to have Killian touch it? Soaking wet? Smelling of cinnamon and man and rain?

Fuck, don't fall apart before we even step foot inside.

A crack of lightning brightens our space, and a rumble of thunder hides my brief whimper. He slides his finger over my clit again, and I brace myself by grasping his shoulder .

"Oh my god," I whisper on my next breath. The rain pelting us carries away my next unintelligible plea.

He makes a humming noise at the back of his throat, stuffs the keys into his jacket pocket, and lowers my sweatpants. I stand there naked from my hips down with my sweatpants pooled around my flip-flops, desperately wondering what the hell he has planned next.

Carefully, as though he doesn't want to tip me over, he grasps my ankle, lifts it, and pulls my sweatpants off from around it while removing one of my flip-flops at the same time. He does the same with the other and then drops the pants next to the door. It's on the tip of my tongue, the desire to ask him what he's doing and to remind him that there are people who could probably see out of their back windows, our backyards touching, but my words are cut off when he takes my knee and puts it over his shoulder.

"Such a pretty fucking pussy," he rumbles.

I shudder when he presses a kiss to my pussy, and as he gently bites my throbbing clit, I tip my head back and let the rain shower my face. I no longer care if people see what he's doing to me. I don't give a shit about the rain or the possibility of being struck by lightning. All the fuck I care about is that he makes me cum. Right here. Right now.

I tip my head back down and look at his head buried between my thighs. His free hand rides up the back of my leg that's holding me up until he cups my ass to keep me from swaying away from him. The sight of him between my legs, the feel of his five o'clock stubble, and the tickle of his bun is almost too much to handle. It sends sensations all over my body.

His tongue flicks out and lazily slides along my clit. His moan can be felt across my entire body, and my breathing picks up pace. I squeeze his shoulder and bury my nails into the leather of his jacket because… Oh. My. God.

I push my pussy further into his face, and he chuckles against me. "So damn greedy." His eyes flick up to mine, and they contain such heat that I bite my bottom lip to keep from falling apart before he's even finished. "Do you need to cum, dollface?"

I whimper and nod.

"Beg."

"W-what?"

The hand holding my thigh over his shoulder reaches underneath and drags along the length of my clit. "Beg for it."

My lips part because it's completely against my nature to beg for anything. I've done it before with my ex but for other things like love and affection, and I told myself I'd never do it again. But here we are, me and Killian, and he's asking me to plead my case to get what I want.

Can I do it? Can I utter the words for the man that has completely captured my interest?

I just can't help myself when I murmur heatedly, "Please, Killian." I sob out of desperation because I know that everything he promised me in the car will be wilder than my imagination dreamed up. "Please make me cum."

His groan is my first reward, and without tearing his gaze from me, he sucks my clit into his mouth as the prize. "Holy shit," I whisper as I buck against him.

As he sucks, he flicks his tongue against the tight bud, and my legs quake so hard that it's a miracle I'm still standing. Yet, his one hand is keeping me up, a firm grip against me. His fingers dig into the soft flesh, a bite of pain that I hadn't expected to like. All my other lovers have been gentle, so my eyes widen in surprise as my lower abdomen clenches, betraying the fact that I just might actually like it .

I suck in a sharp breath when he scrapes his teeth against my clit and groan when he soothes it with a swipe of his tongue. He returns to pulling on my clit, a sucking motion that times with the rapid beat of my heart. Whimpers leave the back of my throat, my pussy pulses, and my thigh tightens around his head. The fire in my lower abdomen begins, and electric shocks zip from what he's doing to my clit all the way up to my impossibly tight nipples.

A few more zaps and I groan so deep as I cum that it sounds like the thunder above us. I rock against his face, and he rides it out, sucking and flicking until I sag against the hand that's holding me up.

He chuckles, lowers my leg from his shoulder, and rises. His face glistens with more than rain, evidence of what he just did to me. Out in the open. Under a storm.

His lips gently take my own, forcing me to taste myself, and I don't hate it. His tongue is sweet as it dives into my mouth, and for a moment there, we kiss desperately.

When he pulls away, he asks, "Are you ready, Tori?" And I get the feeling that he's asking if I can handle him again.

I bite my bottom lip and nod because there's no way I'm backing out now.

Taking the keys from his pocket, he unlocks the door, grabs my hand, and leads me inside. I step over my soaked sweatpants and into the warmth of the house. The mud from my bare feet leaves tracks against the floor as we hurriedly walk through the kitchen and dining room.

"Bedroom?" he asks huskily.

"Down the hall."

He guides us down the dark hallway that's lit briefly by another crack of lightning. Once we're inside, I move to flick on the lights, but he stops me with a hand on the back of mine.

I lift an eyebrow at him, but he nods in the direction of the lamp that's squatting on the nightstand beside my bed. He lets go of my hand and crosses the bedroom to it. With a twist of his wrist, he dimly lights the room.

And then he turns to me, slides off his jacket, and drops it to the floor. For some odd reason, the wet plop it makes makes my pussy clench. Slowly, he grabs the hem of his shirt and lifts the dripping-wet garment over his head.

My lips part as I take him in.

Pure, godly, gorgeousness.

His muscles shift and ripple as he drops the shirt onto his jacket. Dark tattoos cover every inch of his thick arms, defined pecs, and the bumps of his abs. Every inch of him glistens from the rain, and I can't believe that, in moments, this man will be driving into me.

I was right about the nipple piercings too. The studs shine in the dim light.

I lower my gaze to the bulge that presses against his jeans, which stick to him like a second skin. I can't help the gulp.

"Tori," he calls in a deep tone.

I flick my eyes back to his. "Hmm?"

"Take off your clothes."

Even though I have body issues, I do as he asks because, by his expression, he wants to see me naked. He wants to take it all in like I took him in, and that tells me he finds me attractive even if I don't.

It takes some strength, but I manage to get my shirt over my head. I pull off my bra next, and he hums his approval at what he sees. His hands flex at his sides like he wants to cross the room and touch me, but his eyes raking over my naked body is touch enough .

"I'm going to fucking destroy you," he whispers.

I suppress the moan.

"What do you have for toys?" he asks.

"W-what?"

He looks back at my eyes again. "I like certain things. I want to see if you can meet those needs."

I twist my lips to the side and then whisper, "Nightstand."

He turns to the nightstand, and I get the full of his muscular back. Tattoos cover his skin here too, and I don't have time to study them because he's pulling things out of my nightstand and setting them on the bed.

A condom and fuzzy pink handcuffs first and then one of the things I've never used but bought as a joke: nipple clamps. And lastly, he pulls out the knife I keep there for protection. It's large and curved and has a big, thick wooden handle. I don't like guns, and Cole had bought it for me when I moved into this house. Tegan didn't like that I was alone, and Cole, knowing his wife was worried, picked it up at the thrift store. It was my housewarming gift. An odd one but one that's helped me peacefully sleep alone at night.

I approach the bed with a frown. "You want to use these on me?" I ask as I pick up the nipple clamps.

He shuts the nightstand drawer, turns back toward me, and takes my chin. Gently, he kisses me. "They're for me," he whispers against my lips.

My eyebrows fly into my forehead. "I've-"

He kisses me again, silencing me, and says, "I like pain, dollface. Still think you can handle me?"

And then it all makes sense. The nipple piercings, his body covered in tattoos. He enjoyed the pain. A nervousness curls in my gut. I've never delivered pain. Ever since I moved here, my other lovers have been too vanilla. They never ventured far into the realm of possibilities even when I asked based on my own fantasies and desires.

When he said that I seemed the type to have ‘tried them all', he was wrong. I've only dreamed about them.

So, I ask myself again, can I do this? Can I give him what he needs?

I have no idea, but I sure as shit am going to try.

My nod is small as I bite my bottom lip. He smirks and lets go of my face to lower the zipper of his jeans. I can't help it. I have to watch. Slowly, almost as if he wants me to take in everything and not miss a second of it, he pushes his jeans and briefs over his ass and down his knees.

His cock glistens from dampness in what little light we have, and it's larger than the earlier bulge teased at. He gives me a second to stare before he slides all the way out of his jeans, revealing more tattoos along his legs. Next, he bites the condom wrapper, opens it, and puts it on his length. Once he's wrapped, he picks up the handcuffs and dangles them between us.

"Last chance."

My only answer is confidently taking the handcuffs from him. His smile is wide, and then he's crawling onto the bed, giving me a perfect view of that full, muscular ass. He flips over, lays on his back, and connects his wrists.

I gulp again as he looks at me expectantly. Careful to avoid the sharp blade of the knife, I climb onto the bed with him. As soon as I reach him, I fasten his wrists to the headboard and then sit back on my knees and take him all in again.

I like the sight I see, him lying there, tied up and at my mercy, waiting for pain and pleasure.

Glancing over, I pick up the nipple clamps. In seconds, and surprisingly confidently, I fasten them to his nipples. His eyes close against the pain, pure and utter bliss. I squeeze my thighs together as my pussy clenches.

With no plan in mind, I grab the knife and straddle him, one leg on either side and hovering the tip of his cock at my entrance. His eyes open, half-hooded and full of lust. It urges me on. I take his cock with my free hand and sink down onto him. We groan together, the stretch so delicious to accommodate his size.

"So. Fucking. Tight," he growls through clenched teeth.

My eyelids flutter in bliss. I rock against him at the same time I tug on the chain connecting his nipple clamps. His head digs into the pillow as he throws it back and moans. It makes me feel powerful, and as I rock again, I bring the knife up and study the blade. It could do some serious damage if I'm not careful.

"Do it," he demands, and I look at him to find him staring at me.

The trust he has in me is more than I have in myself. But instead of thinking too hard about it, I continue to rock along his cock, moaning at the feel of him, and press the edge of the blade to the space above his navel.

And then I press and drag it.

As blood wells, he sucks in a breath and moans so deep that it vibrates his cock. It twitches inside me, and my own moan matches his. And damn it if it doesn't urge me on.

An inch above the first cut, I press and drag again. His wrists strain against the cuffs, and his fingers flex and unflex.

"Did I hurt you?" I ask, unsure as I continue to ride him.

"Fuck no," he mutters so deeply. "Again."

Droplets of blood spread across his abs and drip onto my comforter, but I do as he asks and slice into him again. None of my cuts are deep enough for stitches, but they're enough that he's a moaning, godly mess. Slick with blood. Slick with sweat. It makes my pussy clench and milk his length. I can feel his thighs ripple with strain, and with a quick glance, I watch as his toes curl.

Fucking hot.

I shouldn't like this. I should be terrified of this, of him. But god damn it, I'm not. This is the hottest thing I've ever seen, this man at my mercy, this man begging in heated whispers beneath me for more while I ride him.

On my next slice, he bucks into me, juts his chin toward the ceiling, and buries himself so deep that I practically see stars. It's enough to make me scream a surprise orgasm. I ride him faster, harder, chasing myself straight into a heaven I don't believe in. I drop the knife and grasp his bloody and slick waist, riding him greedily.

"Fuck," he hisses. "Shit." The chain of the cuff rattles, and the headboard groans as he tugs on the cuffs. He rears a little off the pillow, parts his lips as he watches my pussy swallow him, and his eyes widen as he cums. His cock pulses inside me as he fills the condom, and the swell of his dick sends me over the edge again. I tip my head back and scream with the all-consuming release. The orgasm reaches every part of my body, a fiery inferno, and it takes everything I have to keep breathing.

It subsides, and he finishes at the same time I do. He flops back onto the pillow, out of breath and his eyes closed in post-sex bliss.

"Holy shit," I breathe on a heavy exhale.

He hums at the back of his throat and opens his eyes, scanning his body and then mine. I do so too, examining the cuts and then the blood all over my hands.

"Untie me," he whispers.

I climb off of him, grab the keys from the nightstand, and stick them into the cuff's holes. Once his wrists are free and the nipple clamps removed, he grabs my face and kisses me with such passion that I practically melt against him.

"We made a mess," I murmur against him.

He smiles as he pulls away. "Do you have a towel you don't care about?"

"All my towels are black," I say. I climb off the bed, head out into the hallway, and grab a towel from the linen closet. I come back to him, and he moves to take the towel from me, but I hold it close to my chest and shake my head. "Let me."

He considers me carefully before propping himself up on his elbows. Gently, I swipe away the blood while he watches. While I do so, I ask, "Why do you like pain?" Because there has to be a reason, right?

His shrug is small, and I know that's the only answer I'm going to get. I have a feeling it's part of the mystery that is Killian Savage. As I toss the towel into the hamper, I decide that I like the mystery. That I like him, and that I hope to god this isn't the last time I experience this with him.