Chapter 20

Killian Savage

From the passenger seat, I find myself looking over at Tori as she drives in the direction of her home back in Fairview. She's quiet, lost in her own thoughts, so I let her have them and remain quiet as she works through whatever she's feeling at the moment. If she felt like telling me, she would have by now.

Rain sprinkles on the windshield, and the only sound is the wipers swaying across the glass. I find myself watching it tickle the surface and not paying attention to where we're going until she pulls onto the side of the road. I scowl as I look outside the window and find the wet field of lilies to my right.

"What are we doing?" I ask, breaking the silence with a rumbling murmur.

She leans back in the seat, sighs, and looks up at the roof of the car. Then, she tips her head in my direction and gives me a small smile. "Want to sit on our bench with me?"

Our bench. I didn't miss that. It makes the hair on my arms stand on end, and it has nothing to do with ill feelings. Deep down, however, I know that we shouldn't share anything together. We shouldn't indulge in each other. But with her looking at me, waiting for my response, I can't deny her what she wants and, frankly, what I want too.

I give a curt nod, and her smile grows. She shuts off the car, and together, we climb out.

The sprinkles are cool on the back of my neck as we make our way to the field. As soon as we reach the bench, she giggles a little under her breath, takes my hand, and pulls me toward the flowers. Curious enough, I allow her to lead me into their depths. We squelch our way through until we near the middle, and then she whirls, gathers herself on her toes, and presses her lips to mine.

I'm so surprised by this mood that I freeze for a second. Between her quiet thoughtfulness and this sudden need for comfort… whatever she'd been thinking about she now needs to be distracted from. So, I give her what she wants because, again, I can't deny her anything it would seem, and kiss her back.

When she breaks the kiss, I ask, "What's going on?"

She shakes her head and lets go of my hand. "Nothing," she says as she crosses her legs, sits in the dirt, and messes up a patch of flowers. "Sit with me?"

I raise an eyebrow. "In the mud?"

She shrugs. "Live a little, Killian."

I grind my teeth just once, knowing I've lived more of a life than any normal person. But all my memories are things no one should have to endure, and this seems to be good-hearted and good-natured. I don't comment on any of this as I take a seat, however, because I don't need to bring her to the center of my own burdens.

The wet dirt immediately soaks my jeans while I place my legs on either side of her knees and yank her closer to me.

A mischievous grin surfaces on her face before she reaches and pushes my jacket off my shoulders. The sleeves gather at my elbows, and I raise my eyebrows at her.

She doesn't answer my silent question when she whispers, "Take it off."

I do as she asks, letting her steer whatever this is – even though I have a feeling I know exactly what this is. I ball it up, set it beside me, and look at her expectedly.

"Shirt," she adds just as quietly.

I gather the bottom of my shirt in my palms and lift it over my head. The sprinkles immediately cool my heating skin, and my cock starts to harden at the direction this is going.

Her gaze sweeps over my torso, taking in the tattoos and the muscles shifting as I place my shirt on top of my jacket.

Without a word, she reaches out and runs her fingers over the scabs. "Does it hurt?"

"Only in a good way," I respond because it's the truth. Every time I feel the pull of skin against the scabs, I'm turned on. I remember our time together and dream about a second round of pain. And the fact that I know that she liked delivering my pain only heightens my current arousal.

Her gaze flicks to mine, and I can see the lust in their depths. She leans back a little and her fingers dip into her pocket. Carefully, she pulls out a small boxcutter. "Do you want some more?"

"Did we come here just for this? "

She lifts one shoulder and lets it fall lazily. "Unbutton your jeans."

Normally, I don't take direction when it comes to sex, but something in her voice tells me she needs this as much as I want this. Whatever the reason, I don't deny her. I lean back and unbutton my jeans then wait for further instructions.

"Push them down a little."

For a second, I do consider denying her because my ass will be covered in mud. But it's already wet from the dampness through the fabric, so there's really no point. I lift my ass and slide the jeans down, dragging my briefs with them. My cock springs free, and I grit my teeth against how good it feels to have the raindrops pepper my shaft.

I watch as her tongue darts out and wets her lips. Like she's hungry. Like she wants it more than air. I hide my smirk well because I want nothing more than to give it to her.

Leaning back on one elbow in the mud, I grab my shaft with my other hand and glide it up and down. Her lips part as she takes in my motions, an invitation to do whatever it is she has planned next.

"What are you going to do, dollface?" I rumble heatedly when she makes no move but to greedily watch me pleasure myself.

From the heaviness of her stare, from the cool drizzle, and from the slide of my hand, precum gathers at my tip. She leans forward and licks it up, and I cannot help the moan that comes out of my mouth.

Her finger flicks the boxcutter's lever, and the blade pushes out of the top. A shiver rakes down my entire body, making my cock twitch and my nipples strain against their piercings.

With the box cutter's tip, she trails the blade across my balls. I suck in a sharp breath, knowing she didn't cut the skin but loving the sharp sting anyway. My balls tighten, and my cock hardens more in my fist. I continue pumping, watching eagerly as she drags the blade to my inner thigh. Moving her gaze to my face, she slowly slices.

My eyelids flutter closed, and I breathe a sigh of relief as pain sears me. My hand pumps a little harder, and she makes another cut just beside it before moving to my other thigh. "Fuck," I groan out as she cuts into my skin. She makes another cut, and another, and I can feel the blood dripping down my legs and onto the mud below me.

The pain is everything. The pain is breath; it's freedom.

Gently, she sets the boxcutter to the side and gathers herself onto her knees. Mud coats her pants, but she doesn't seem to mind as she swirls her tongue around my tip. She nudges my hand away, so I lean back on both elbows and get the full view of what she's about to do to me.

She grabs my base and applies pressure, and then she slides her mouth down my length. "Fuck," I groan again as the warmth of her mouth, the wetness of her tongue, raises goosebumps all over my abdomen.

Her eyes move to mine, and she takes in how my lips part, how my eyes blink slowly so that I don't miss a beat of her mouth around me. And then she starts to move, her head bobbing as her hand around my base moves to my balls. She grabs hold of them, kneads them, and gently pulls. She's rewarded with a moan that I just can't help.

With her free hand, she moves it up my wet jeans until her fingertips skim the bloody cuts along my inner thigh. When she digs her nails into them, I buck against her mouth and tip my head back toward the sky. The pain travels all the way up to my navel and tightens my balls so tight that I'm surprised they're still outside of my body.

Her head bobs faster, and I raise a muddy hand and grip the hair at the back of her head, aiding her – no, demanding her – to make me cum. To tip me over the damn edge I'm riding thanks to her.

Her nails dig in further, and her teeth scrape against my shaft. I grit my teeth to keep all the sounds I want to make from spilling out of my mouth. She's never done this to me before, but somehow she knows exactly what I want.

Unable to help myself, I lean back a little farther on my elbow and shove her down my length as far as she can go. I hold her there, groaning as her throat constricts while she fights for air. Curses spill out of my mouth, despite my desperate attempt to keep them in.

When I allow her up, she doesn't complain. She doesn't back off my cock. She resumes with heavy breaths, and she works my cock with more determination than she had before.

A tingle begins at the base of my spine, and I murmur what a good job she's doing between short little pants. My grip on her hair tightens, and it has to be painful, but she says nothing. She doesn't even wince.

And when she takes me in further than I had shoved her and gags, I groan so deeply that my nipple piercings vibrate as I explode down her throat. She drinks every drop as I watch her, our eyes locked in the usual way as something passes between us that I don't fully understand.

Once I've finished, my cock pops out of her mouth, and she sits back on her ankles with a satisfied look. It takes a minute for words to form in my thoughts, but once they do, I say, "Satisfied, dollface?"

She nods eagerly and observes as I slide my jeans back up my muddy ass and fasten the button once more. "Are you?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Did it look like I didn't enjoy it?"

A small smile takes over her face, but she doesn't respond. Instead, she takes her bloody fingers and wipes them on lily petals. Immediately, their pristine white surface is coated in red, and she peers at the contrasting colors with interest.

"Tori," I murmur, drawing her attention back to me.

"Hmm?" she asks when our gazes meet.

"What's this about?" I ask because she's clearly going through something, and though I usually don't involve myself with other people's problems, she's different.

She looks away and bites her bottom lip. Instead of answering me, she looks back at me, her eyes on my wrist. They widen a fraction. "You're still wearing the bracelet?"

I lift my wrist. "Yeah."

She touches her face with her muddy hand. "I thought you would have taken it off by now."

"Why?" Honestly, I don't know why I'm still wearing it. Jewelry has never been my thing.

"You just don't seem the type to wear something that means protection."

"What type do I seem?"

She shrugs and glances at my chest. "With the cross tattoo on your sternum, I figured you were the godly type."

I consider my next words carefully because she could either take it the right way or the wrong way. "My wife was. I got it for her when she died."

"Why?"

It's my turn to shrug. "Because I have to believe that she went to heaven the way she thought she would."

She nods a little, and relief fills me that she didn't, in fact, take it the wrong way. I grab my now-wet shirt and slide it over my head. Next, I put on my muddy jacket. When I gather myself to my feet, I hold out my hand for her to take. She does, and I lift her, and together, we silently stride back for the car.

Once we're in the car, she breaks our momentary silence by starting the engine. "Thanks for replacing the car part while I worked," she says.

I murmur, "You're welcome." It hadn't taken me long, and the hardware store let me borrow the tools I needed. I'm surprised that a hardware store would even order a part for a car, but since there isn't an auto parts store in Mount Pleasant or Fairview, they probably get good business by doing so.

She pulls out onto the road and steers the car back toward Fairview. "My employee is scared of you," she comments, switching subjects so fast that I flick my gaze toward the side of her face.

"I'm a terrifying guy."

She shakes her head. "Not to me."

I look back out the windshield. "If you knew what I'd done to get answers for my job, you would be."

She's quiet for a moment, and I can feel that she wants to ask me, but she refrains from doing so. I'm not sure I'd tell her anyway. No one needs to know about it, especially not a woman I care for.

"Can I ask you something?" she eventually asks.

"Sure," I respond tentatively.

"Who killed your family?"

Discretely, I blow out a shaky breath, and a familiar pain pings in my chest. But instead of ignoring the question, I decide to be honest and answer. "The Lillian."

She looks over at me for a second before she returns her attention to the road. "Who's that?"

I shift in my seat uncomfortably. "He believes himself to be a pure man, but a man is not truly pure if they have to hide their true identity in my opinion. Out of everything I did to him, I never learned what his true name was because he had many false names, even going as far as using one for his practice. Without his true name, he's been hard to track down since he left the coast. Makes you wonder why he had the false names to begin with."

"That's what you're doing? Tracking him and not wandering aimlessly?"

I nod. "I will find him. He'll mess up."

"I believe you," she whispers. "Do you know anything about him?"

"I know he wasn't working alone. I could tell by his pale skin that he rarely left his house. At least, not during the day. But someone was doing the kidnapping, and I don't know if it was him or someone else. I'm sure he wasn't working alone though, but even the information I did get from him wasn't much. He could endure a lot of pain."

"What was the most important information?"

I twitch my lips, remembering the burn on the side of his face that I'd given him for it. "A lily. He'd leave them one and then later kidnap them. The sick fuck would even brand the women with the flower."

She's so quiet when my voice trails off, and I shift a little to study her face. It's pale, and her eyes are wide. The next second later, her foot hits the gas.

"Tori? What are you doing?"

"The brand."

"What about it?"

She peers at me for a second, her expression fearful. "The woman I hit had the same one. We have to tell Pierce."