19. Kieran

Chapter 19

Kieran

“ Y ou’re very calm, Kier. It’s weirding me out.”

I look up, meeting Sven’s eyes in the rearview before he refocuses on the road.

“Should I be raving?”

“Guess not.” He clears his throat. “Do you, uh, need me to listen or whatever?”

A smile cracks my frozen face. “Fuck off.”

His shoulders drop with relief. “Home, then?”

“No.” I brush imaginary lint off my jeans. “Stirling’s.”

Sven brakes too hard approaching a stop sign. “What? I thought—when you came out, it seemed like…”

I chuckle. “Take a breath, buddy.”

He swerves to a stop outside a dark storefront on Wilshire and twists in the seat. “What the fuck happened?”

“What happened is she thinks it’s transference.” My voice is eerily calm and sounds a bit freaky. “Remember me ranting to you boys about it last weekend?”

Sven grunts.

I shrug. “She doesn’t know I’ve already disproved the hypothesis.”

He drags a hand over his buzzed head. “Are you sure about this?”

I’m not. There’s a knock-down, drag-out fight going on inside me, my conviction clashing with doubts. But I hold tight to what she couldn’t hide from me tonight. Her passion. Her tears. The pain in her eyes before she shut down.

The fact she knelt for me.

She knelt.

Tonight is just one more battle, but I’m going to win the war. And when I do, when she surrenders to this, I’ll give her the crown. Everything I have. Everything I am.

I’ll lay it all at her feet.

“I’m sure.”

“Your funeral,” mumbles Sven as he puts the car in gear.

I spend the drive planning out exactly what I’m going to say and exactly what I’m going to do to her first—bury my face between her thighs until she comes. Twice.

By the time we reach her house, I’m so hard it’s painful. Not helping are the near-constant flashbacks of Talia on her knees, swallowing my cock and cum like they were candy. I’ve had some great blow jobs in my life, but every single one of them faded into obscurity the second she put her mouth and hands on me.

Because Sven is a sneaky bastard, he drives past her house to the next side street and parks. We have a line of sight to her house, but she won’t see us when she turns onto the street. He keeps his thoughts to himself as we wait, probably because he knows that when I set my mind to something, nothing short of a missile will stop me.

Twenty minutes pass, then thirty. Around the forty-minute mark, I almost change my mind as doubt creeps back in. I start thinking about that blond who hugged her after the lecture. Who she smiled at and whose cheek she kissed to the delight of the crowd. There was a physical familiarity between them that told me they were lovers at some point. I’d wager money on him being her last submissive.

“Why are you muttering about blond men? What did we ever do to you?”

I look up at the rearview, taking in Sven’s bored expression and dark, knowing eyes.

I’m spared an embarrassing answer when headlights flash across the tree we’re parked behind. Unlike the last dozen times, the car doesn’t drive past. I recognize her Lexus as it slows and pulls into her driveway. The garage door rises. She parks inside.

“Sven,” I say tightly.

“What?”

“If the blond is with her, you have my permission to tackle me and get me back in the car by any means necessary. ”

He cusses. Colorfully.

The garage door rolls downward. The second the sliver of light disappears, I’m out of the car and jogging down the sidewalk.

A door slams behind me. “Goddammit, Kier!”

“Stay back,” I throw over my shoulder. I cut across her front yard, take the steps to the porch in a leap, and pound my fist on her bright red door.

From the shadows of the driveway behind me, Sven grumbles, “She’s gonna call the cops.”

“No, she won’t.”

The side of my hand is starting to hurt, but I don’t let up until the door swings open on Talia. Dark hair spills riotously over her shoulders, freed from its high ponytail. Her feet are bare, her skirt wrinkled. And her silky white blouse is untucked on one side, the bottom two buttons undone.

Everything I planned to say to her flies out my ears.

Her eyes widen. “Kieran? What?—”

“Are you alone?”

“Yes, why?—”

“We have unfinished business.”

She rocks back half a step. The movement brings her face beneath the soft glow of a ceiling light, and the jealousy searing my veins extinguishes instantly. Her eyes are puffy, her face flushed. She doesn’t look unkempt because she fucked someone else; she was getting ready to crawl into bed because she’s been crying since I left her.

“What— ”

“Let me in.”

My voice isn’t gentle. Nothing about this moment is gentle. I want to destroy the world—destroy myself—for making her cry. And I want to fuck her so hard she cries again.

Her delicate nostrils flare, eyes spitting fire. “If you interrupt me one more time, I’m going to break your nose.”

Elation lights up my body. I can’t help the grin that spreads over my face. I probably look deranged, but I’m past sanity and firmly in the realm of Fuck It All at the moment.

“I’ll take it. Anything you dish out.” I soften my voice as much as possible. “Just let me come inside. Your house. You. One night. That’s all I’m asking for, mo ghrá.”

Her eyelashes flicker at the endearment. I wonder if she knows what it means, then decide I don’t care. Nor do I care whether she seriously thinks I’ll be satisfied with one night. Let her believe the lie.

This is war.

I take a step forward, the toes of my shoes smacking against the metal sill of the door. Two feet away, she stands her ground like the queen she is. But her chest moves faster. Against the silk of her blouse, her nipples are hard points begging for my attention.

“Kieran.”

My name is a whisper cracking with the same desperation that shines from her eyes. Desperation for me to stay, to leave, to give her what she needs and deny her. All of it.

“One night, Talia. ”

Emotions fly across her face like swift moving storms. Longing. Guilt. Pain. Desire. She’s still fully clothed, but she’s never been this naked. Never shown me this much.

I told myself a lot of things on the way over here—that I’d give it my best shot and let her decide, that I wouldn’t force it even if her words and eyes didn’t match. But that was before, and this is now. I understand her inner conflict, the pressure and weight of feeling like you always have to maintain control. The fear of what might happen if you lose it.

This isn’t the Talia who told me to take off my pants and deep throated me like she was born to do it. This Talia needs me to help her let go.

I’ve never been more qualified for anything.

One more step brings me across the threshold and chest to chest with her. My fingers dive beneath her hair, curling unerringly around the back of her slender neck. I force her head up and she gasps, arching for me, her breasts soft and warm against my chest. I know she feels my cock; she squirms against it. She’s panting, neck flushing, eyes dark and glassy with arousal. All strung out with need for me. Beautiful .

I lean forward just enough to whisper in her ear, “I’m going to fuck you raw. Your pussy, your ass—they’re mine. You’re going to let me do whatever I want to you, and you’re going to fucking love it.”

She whimpers.

“You’re going to close the door now and set the alarm. Then you’re going to take me to your bed. Okay?”

“Okay,” she whispers .

My eyes close in relief. “That’s a good girl.”

I uncurl my fingers and step to the side. She slips past me to close and lock the door, then taps the console mounted beside it. A light flips from green to red. She looks at me, eyes dark and huge, and a hard swallow convulses her throat. My cock twitches in memory.

Energy coils in my muscles, runs like electricity in my veins. “Your bed,” I remind her.

Her breath hitches. She nods, the movement jerky, then guides me across a living room, through a shadowed kitchen, and down a hallway. The closer we come to her bedroom, the more she relaxes. She’s accepting the inevitability of this. Softening in anticipation.

I’m having the opposite reaction, my tension mounting further every second. It’s all I can do not to throw her on the runner beneath our feet and claim her like a beast.

“Is your cunt wet, Talia?”

Her quick glance over her shoulder makes my balls tighten. There’s no conflict anymore. Only hunger as acute as mine.

“You know it is,” she whispers.

We cross into her bedroom. I’m only dimly aware of a lovely, airy space. Plants, dimmed lights, soothing colors. All I really see is the king-sized bed. When we reach it, I turn her around roughly and finally, finally , unleash myself.

Delicate buttons tear from their threads as I pull the halves of her blouse apart. Her heaving breasts sit in pale lace. I yank the cups down and fill my hands, my thumbs teasing firm, rosy nipples.

“Perfect,” I whisper, bending to circle a pert bud with my tongue. The sound she makes is exquisite, between a sigh and a groan.

As I knead, tongue, and bite one breast, then the other, her pussy gets the message I’m sending. Her hips push frantically against me. Soon, love. Soon. I reach around her back and undo the clasp of her bra, then pull it off and toss it. My shirt comes off with a swift yank and then my hands are on her again, stroking up her belly, over her breasts. Her nipples are darker after my ministrations. I pinch them.

She gasps my name and I crush my mouth to hers, tasting the last syllable. This time, I control the kiss. I take everything I want with one hand anchored in her hair and the other on her jaw to hold it open. Breathing becomes a secondary need to exploring the origin of so much of my obsession. Her voice. Her sharp tongue. That goddamn tooth—when I trace its contours, I groan like a man on the verge of collapse. My cock throbs, ready to blow just from kissing her.

Backing off a bit, I nip at her swollen lips, then kiss along her jaw to her neck. She smells so fucking good. Feels perfect against me, her height and curves custom-made to complement my frame. My hands roam her torso, memorizing the silk of her skin and the bow of her spine. I find the zipper at the back of her skirt and pull it down. With a tug, the fabric clears her hips and pools around her feet. I palm her ass, spreading her cheeks. My fingers find the string of her thong and follow it to her center.

Petal-soft, swollen, and so fucking wet.

“You’re dripping, sweetheart.”

She nods against my shoulder. “Please, Kieran.”

Her soft, beseeching voice wrecks me. Lifting her by the waist, I throw her onto the bed. She lands on her back, hair a dark pool around her shoulders. Her lips are parted, eyes hot with surprise and lust.

“Never been tossed before, have you?”

The shake of her head fills me with savage satisfaction. Her hands come to her breasts, kneading and tweaking her nipples. I grunt at the visceral impact. For one second, two, I stare at the vision laid out before me. My jaw clenches. My hand finds my cock, squeezing it through denim in hopes of relieving some pressure. It doesn’t help.

“Spread your legs.”

She does so instantly, without shame. Rooted in her feminine power and sexuality. I’m humbled by it. And more turned on than I’ve been in my entire life.

I pop the button on my jeans and toe off my shoes and socks. “Touch that pretty pussy for me.”

One hand dips between her legs, pulling aside her thong, while the other trails across her chest and belly. Staring into my eyes, she strokes herself with drugging confidence, her hips swiveling, making little noises that urge more pre-cum from my cock.

She has no idea how possessive she looks right now. Her eyes tell me she owns me. That I own her. But it’s all right—the rest of her will figure it out eventually.

“Fuck,” I hiss, pulling down the zipper on my jeans. “I was going to eat you out, but I’ve changed my mind. I have to be inside you right fucking now. You have the most perfect pink pussy I’ve ever seen. Is it for me, Talia? Does it belong to me tonight?”

She nods eagerly. “Yes.”

“Show me what’s mine.”

She gets rid of her lacy thong. Her knees lift and drop open again, even wider than before. She trails a hand down her stomach, making a V of her fingers to spread her glistening folds. Her middle finger dips inside her body. Her back arches off the bed.

I can’t fucking breathe. “After I make you come all over my cock, I’m filling your ass,” I warn.

She moans. “Please.”

My jeans and briefs hit the floor. Higher brain function turns off. I crawl atop her, throwing her hand out of the way. I don’t even have to line myself up—it’s like my body knows hers already. Her hips lift, legs framing my thighs. White lights sparkle across my vision as my cock finds the source of her heat. I might be having a stroke. I don’t care.

One vicious thrust brings me all the way in.

“Oh God,” she cries, her face contorting and eyes closing.

She’s tighter than her fists, her throat. Hot as molten metal, as familiar and miraculous as rain on my upturned face .

“Look at me,” I snarl.

My brave girl does as I ask, opening her eyes. Everything she can’t say and won’t admit swims inside them. I’m utterly lost.

Drawing back, I push inside her again. Hard. Again. Harder. I find her mouth with mine and spear it with my tongue as I fuck her mercilessly. She’s still too tight, struggling to adjust to my size despite how wet she is. I’m probably hurting her, but I’m too far gone to care. So is she.

“Yes, God, yes,” she sobs. “Harder.”

Her nails dig into my back, my ass. I come down to my forearms, giving her my weight and the grind of my pelvis against her clit. Sweat drips from my forehead to her face, running into a line of fresh tears. My tears. I lick them off her cheek as she coils tighter and tighter, her moans almost continuous.

Half a dozen more thrusts and she incinerates with a choked scream. Her body convulses beneath me, pussy clamping down so hard I see white again. Warmth gushes around my cock.

Willpower holds back my own release as I ride out her orgasm, never letting up. The moment she goes supine, I pull out and throw her onto her stomach. I smack her ass so hard the pale skin instantly blooms red, then drag her to her knees and shove two fingers into her still-fluttering pussy. She whimpers, writhing against my hand as I fuck her hard and fast with it .

I’m a madman. She’s a succubus. Heaven can’t compare to this and if this is Hell, I’m never leaving.

My thumb gathers her cream and lifts to massage her asshole. Her pussy spasms, soaking my fingers anew.

“Such a good girl,” I whisper. “You want it so bad, don’t you?”

I increase the pressure and she whimpers, rocking back harder. My thumb slips inside. Our synchronized moans sound like a goddamn harmony.

“Lube?” I rasp.

She looks at me over her shoulder, dark hair curtaining half of her face. “I don’t want it. Spit on me.”

I almost come right then. It’s a miracle, in fact.

Grabbing her hips, I lube her with my tongue and spit. Her groans are so guttural they vibrate against my jaw.

I retreat to push a finger into her and pump it leisurely. As soon as she adjusts, I add another. Then a third. I spit twice more to keep her nice and wet. Her head tosses back and forth against the mattress, her cries verging toward sobs again.

“With me, Talia?”

“Do it already,” she snaps.

My laugh is villainous. I bend forward and clamp my teeth on the muscle between her neck and shoulder. She yelps and thrusts harder against my fingers.

“Please,” she whispers. “Please fuck my ass, Kieran.”

I lick the inflamed skin. “That’s my girl.”

I dip my cock back into her pussy, not staying long enough to distract myself, then fit myself against her asshole. I forget how to breathe as I start gently pushing. She’s wet and prepped but still shakes beneath me, muscles tensing and releasing. A thought surfaces, one that seems impossible but rings as undeniable.

She’s never done this before.

It’s domination, plain and simple, and she’s giving this first to me . The realization brings a wave of possessive tenderness, softening my urgency just enough for me to force out the words, “Relax and bear down a little, mo ghrá.”

She takes a shuddering breath, then another slower, deeper one. She softens. Opens. Taking the gift of what’s already mine, I sink into her a few inches. She can’t help but stiffen at the intrusion; her breathing speeds up.

Stilling, I stroke and massage her back and hips. “You feel so perfect. So tight and warm. I’m so fucking pleased. Thank you. Thank you, sweetheart.”

The final threshold of her resistance falls. The choking grip on my shaft loosens a fraction. I bottom out inside her with a growl. Her answering moan is music to my ears and snaps my control.

I begin fucking her in earnest, hard and steady. Her moans get louder, her pussy drenching my balls. When she begins rocking with me, I see stars. Familiar pressure builds inside me, only it’s more intense than I’ve ever experienced.

This orgasm might kill me, but I’m at peace with it.

“Work your clit for me,” I grind out.

Her hand dives beneath her, the other clenched on the bedding. She strokes herself with two fingers, fast and sure, gasping and keening. Her nails graze my balls on every thrust, spiking the pressure in them to catastrophic levels. My thrusts start to lose rhythm. I’m seconds away.

Miraculously, so is she.

“Oh, fuuuuck,” she cries through a sob.

She screams my name, jerking and contracting around me. It’s too much; too intense. Lightning streaks through my limbs, coalescing and detonating in a flash that swallows my sight.

I roar my gratitude to God and the Devil both as I fill her with cum.