Chapter 6

CHAPTER

SIX

Noah

I had to be dreaming because Killian Donovan was not straddling my legs, trapping me under him, his dick right there, shrink-wrapped in his pants. I'd never wanted to go down on a cock more, and I couldn't get to it. The ropes burned, my hands pinned behind me, but even that felt good. As if a little pain made my rabid need to have him burn brighter, hotter.

He was everywhere, all at once—on me, in my head, his taste on the tip of my tongue—and we hadn't even done anything, just eye-fucked each other while he'd pinned me down and shut me up.

He snarled, like he hated me, hated this. Fuck, he was even hotter when in a rage.

How had we gotten here?

As soon as he'd tied me up and shoved me against the kitchen counter, I'd known I was in trouble, but not the about-to-die kinda trouble, more the I'm-hard-for-this kinda trouble. I'd fucked around with ropes a few times. But nothing like this, like having a brutal monster fix me in his sights as though I were his prey and he was about to savage me so hard neither of us would come out the other side the same.

He'd thrown me around in the past too—had seemed to like dragging me out of trouble by brute force—but something had changed between us, something that made all the bullying shit feel like foreplay.

I wasn't scared—all right, I was. Killian was more than capable of fucking me and then pulling the trigger when he was done. And why did that make all this more desperate, more fucked up, and a thousand times hotter? I was messed up, wasn't I? To want this, want him, my father's neanderthal pet.

He seemed to be struggling too, since he hadn't moved and still covered my mouth. If he was going to kill me, then we might as well let this play out before it was all over. He needed to get out of his own head and go down on me, or maybe he'd go straight to fucking me. My heartbeat skipped, balls tightening. To get railed by Killian, his body bent over mine, his dick pumping, stretching me wide, hands gripping me… God.

"Fuck me already," I snarled, or tried to, but it came out as a garbled moan under his hand. All this thinking would screw us both. What he needed to do was take my hips, flip me the fuck over, and sink his dick in like we both wanted. He didn't usually hesitate. Killian attacked everything as though he meant to kill it. His dick had the right idea. And I needed it in me. Anything else was pointless.

I narrowed my eyes and glared.

His lashes fluttered, some decision having been made, and Killian's hand eased, freeing my mouth.

"It's about fucking time?—"

"We're not doing this." He turned his face away and began to climb off.

No, wait, he was leaving? I needed this. "The fuck we aren't." I shuffled upright. "I see you're hard. Fuck me, Killer . C'mon. What's got you scared, huh?" He was on his feet now, turning away. "Is it my father? Coward. I was right, you're just his fucking pet, can't think for yourself, can't take what you want. And you want me. You look at me like I'm your slut, so fuckin' take me, fuck me like I know you want, like you've always wanted. Hold me down and fill me up, Daddy?—"

His eyes flashed. "Don't fucking call me that." He dropped his hand, adjusting his pants around a dick that had to be hurting.

I leaned forward. "You want to shut my mouth, make me."

Something inside him snapped. He spun on his heel and came back at me like a tidal wave of pure fury. Fuck, I was getting it now. Lust scorched my soul, made my dick and ass ache for whatever pounding I was about to get.

The hand he'd dropped to adjust his pants now went to his zipper, and with a quick flick of his wrist, he gripped his erection. And there it was. His cock in his hand. His eyes fierce. I wet my lips, hot with want. His left hand thrust into my hair, tilted my head back, and I now knew where that cock was headed. I opened my mouth, so eager, and swallowed the thick length as Killian glared, hating every inch he pushed in. Fuck, it was a lot, but I wanted it, wanted more, wanted him to touch my soul and bring me to life.

I tried to tell him with my eyes to give it to me, tried to make him see how I needed it, but his sneer told me Killian wasn't home, not the human part of him anyway. What little softness he'd had was long gone. A cold-hearted killer stared through me, his dick riding my tongue and plunging down my throat. I gagged, and maybe he heard because he eased off some, but not for long.

It wasn't pretty—it was animallike, and I was out of my mind for it. For him. My Killer .

I rocked as he fucked my mouth. My own dick was pinched in my towel, its constraints wringing out tiny shivers of friction.

He dropped his head back and his grip in my hair eased, his rhythm slowing. Surrendering himself. Looking up the length of him, stretching my lips around his dick, had to be one of the best views I'd ever seen. It was a damn shame he wasn't naked. Would he let me crawl over him, let me ride his cock as mine slapped his abs, like I'd fantasized a thousand times?

His fist in my hair had eased off enough that I controlled the pace, controlled how much of his cock I swallowed. I pulled off, making him glower, furious, but I had him now and licked from balls to head, flicking my tongue over the sweetest spot, until taking him deep all over again.

He moaned and his fingers knotted in my hair, but not like before. He'd given himself to me, and he was all mine to do with as I wanted, and I was going to give Killian the best blowjob of his life because it might save mine.