I interrupt him, suddenly more bold and uninhibited than I think I've ever been in my life. "No. I want you to bend me over and fuck me." I pause, my heart racing. "Right here."
"Fuck, Lily." His eyes are dark with lust. "I don't know what the hell to do with you and that filthy mouth of yours."
I stroke his shaft, my heart thumping wildly at the idea of saying what I'm about to say. "I can think of a few things," I tease, my mouth watering at the thought of tasting him again.
"Not now," he growls. He picks me up by the waist and sets me in front of his leather armchair, then turns me around so that I'm facing away from him. "Get on your knees."
Arousal rushes through me at the way he orders me to do what he wants what I want. I climb to my knees on the leather seat, gripping the sides of the chair and arching my back as he stands behind me. When he touches the head of his cock to my *, I shiver, aching to have him completely inside me.
"Is this what you wanted, Lily?" His voice is grit and gravel. "You want me to fuck you from behind?"
"Yes," I moan. He grasps a handful of hair, pulling my head back, and it only intensifies the sensation as he pushes against me and slides inside my slick * in one swift thrust. I let out a long breath of air at the sensation of him filling me up, the momentary discomfort giving way immediately to almost unbearable pleasure.
"Touch your clit," he orders, his hands on my hips, pulling me against him as he thrusts inside me, deeper with each stroke until every cell in my body is so on edge that I feel like I'm charged with electricity.
My fingers roll over my clit, again and again as he fucks me into near-oblivion. The heat from the fireplace magnifies the heat of Killian's body against mine. One hand kneads my breast as he thrusts inside me, the other hand entangles in my hair. He yanks my head back so he can growl in my ear, telling me dirty things about how wet I am, how tight I am, and how much he loves being inside me.
Killian fucks me for what seems like an eternity, until I'm trembling, one hand gripping the side of the chair, the other rubbing my clit as I arch my back and beg him to fuck me harder. I'm breathless, too consumed by my lust for him to think about anything else.
"Killian." I repeat his name over and over. "More. Please, more."
"I'm bare inside you," he says, his voice thick.
Totally bare, with no barrier between us. The thought brings me higher and higher. "Yes. Yes."
"Do you want me to come inside you? Do you want me to fill you up? Tell me you want to feel my cum dripping from between your legs."
Fuck, yes. "Please, please, yes." Please and yes seem to be the only words I know right now.
"Come for me, Lily."
He groans the words, his voice aching with the need for release, and I'm so close already that I teeter on the edge only for a moment before my orgasm completely overtakes me. A scream bubbles up from deep in my chest and I cry out his name as I come, my orgasm eclipsing everything else in the world in that moment except for the sensation of Killian's hands on my hips, and his groan as he thrusts into me once, twice, three times. Then warmth floods my * as he releases everything he has inside me.
We stay there in the same position, his hands on my hips and me half bent over, my * throbbing around him and my heart pounding loudly in my chest as I try to catch my breath. Killian runs his hand over my back and my hips, then pulls me up, my back against his chest, his mouth close to my ear. His beard scratches the side of my face, every nerve ending on my body more sensitive now than it was before.
"Fuck, I can't get enough of you, Lily."
I breathe in deeply, resting against him and closing my eyes. "The feeling is mutual, Killian Saint."
Later, I sit on the rug in front of the fireplace, my back propped up by the nearby sofa while Killian cleans up in the kitchen – at his insistence. The man cooked for me, laid me, and is washing dishes as we speak.
I'm in grave danger of becoming very spoiled.
But now that I'm sitting here in my post-orgasmic state, all I can think about is how it's nine-thirty and I'm not reading Chloe's bedtime story because I'm having dirty sex in a cabin.
With a guy who has a way of making my toes curl with just a glance.
A guy who had his brother teach him to cook so that he could make me dinner.
A guy who caught the damn fish he fed me for dinner in the cabin he built with his bare hands.
I know Chloe is just fine at Opal's. But I have a serious case of mom guilt that I can't quite shake. There's also that nagging little voice in my head, insisting that I'm worrying about Chloe because I'm really afraid I might be falling for Killian. And falling for someone, after being betrayed by a man I thought I knew, is a terrifying prospect.
That nagging little voice in my head needs to be taken out and shot.
"Do you want to go over to Opal's place and pick up Chloe?" Killian stands at the entrance of the living room.
"What? No."
Killian gives me a long look as he walks toward me.