27
CARA
Am I really doing this? I can barely think as Killian’s lips drag across my skin, trailing across my breasts until I can feel the heat of his breath against my nipple. My mind goes blank as soon as his tongue swirls around the sensitive nub, shock trailing down my spine. I arch into his mouth, my fingers curling in his hair to drag him closer.
Oh God, I need this. Already, the trauma of the night is fading into the background as he focuses on my breasts. His left hand kneads one while his mouth is busy with the other, propping himself up by the elbows to avoid smothering me. Just the feeling of his mouth against my skin sends my thoughts spiraling. He sighs as my hands run from his hair down his neck and shoulders, my nails digging into his chest.
“We can slow down,” he starts to say, pulling away, but I ignore him. Pulling his mouth back to mine, I let my hands dip beneath his shirt, skimming along his stomach. The hard edges of his abs brush against my skin, and I feel him shudder at my touch.
I can’t lie and say I haven’t wondered what this would feel like when it finally happened. Because, with Killian, it’s always been a matter of when, not if. Now seems as good a time as any to finally find out just what he’s capable of. He’s already hard, the full length of him pressing against my stomach. His hips grind against me, his jeans rubbing the sensitive area between my thighs.
“Fuck, Cara—” I can tell he wants this as badly as I do right now. Whatever self-control he’s still holding on to is just barely there, hanging by a thread.
I let his hands explore my body as his mouth latches back onto my nipple. Closing my eyes, I think of nothing but the sensation of his touch against my skin, the curling heat at my center, and his mouth against my breast. His tongue circles the hardened nub before gently biting it. I hiss, my body twitching beneath his, unused to this sort of attention.
“You look so fucking beautiful like this,” he murmurs, gray eyes trailing from my breasts to my pussy. His look alone is enough to nearly burn me alive. The backs of his fingers trail along my side, goosebumps erupting at his touch. “I didn’t think—” He stops short.
I don’t reply. Instead, I take his hand, leading it down between my legs. We both freeze the moment his finger brushes against my clit. He’s touched me there before, but this time is different. He’s not feeling me up in some public restaurant, taunting me. It’s almost as if he…wants to take away my pain.
But that can’t be right. The Killian I know would never care enough to do that. Maybe I’d thrown him off, coming here bawling my eyes out. Or perhaps this is a side of him I’ve never been able to see before.
His lips are back on my neck before I can dissect that further. The rush of his fingers slipping along my folds startles me, scattering any and every thought in my head. Licking my breast, he starts to move down my body, kissing down my chest, my tummy, until he slowly spreads my thighs wider. My breath catches when I realize what he intends to do.
“Killian—” I choke a bit as he doesn’t even wait to hear what I have to say. The first swipe of his tongue has me crying out, licking all the way to my clit. I can feel his mouth working, his tongue swirling, sucking my clit between his teeth softly until I’m left panting.
His free hand grips my breast as he assaults my pussy, his other fingers too busy trailing after his tongue along my wet folds. The feeling of his tongue and his fingers are almost too much, my body tensing with pleasure.
“You taste so fucking good,” he growls, his finger slipping deeper into me. “I can’t get enough of it.”
His words spark a fire within me, leaving me gasping. My brain latches onto those words, repeating them over and over in my head to the rhythm of his tongue lapping at my pussy. He doesn’t stop licking and sucking until my body tenses with the need for relief. I’m so close that I can almost taste the pleasure of my orgasm, my brain short-circuiting with anticipation.
Fuck, I knew he had a mouth on him, but I never expected this. His finger moves in and out of me, never going too deep as if he’s afraid to break me. The need to feel him fill me up is shocking, but strong. I want to feel his finger thrusting inside me as his tongue continues to lap at my clit.
My hand shoots between us, gripping his wrist as I drive his finger into me deeper. He hesitates, his mouth pausing. But I don’t stop. I thrust his finger in and out, my hips arching to meet him. There’s no pain, he’s careful not to push all the way in, but fucking hell do I want him to. I want him…
For a second, I let myself imagine what it would be like to have him fuck me. To feel his cock instead of just his finger, filling me up until I’m begging for release. If he’s as talented with his dick as he is with his mouth, then I can only imagine how it would feel to have him fully inside me, stretching me. I close my eyes, imagining it, wanting him to go deeper, harder.
I need it. I’m so close to the edge. So close to that final release. My nails dig into his wrist, my brain only half realizing that he’s stopped licking me. Opening my eyes, I find him watching my hand moving his, lust heavy in his eyes. He seems transfixed almost, unable to do anything else but enjoy the show.
My head tilts back as I near the edge, my thoughts filled with him. The scent of his cologne surrounds me, intoxicating me, bringing up more and more images of what he’d do to me. Pleasure skitters down my spine as he finally starts to move his hand with mine, his thumb pressing against my clit each time he thrusts in.
But it’s not enough. I need more…
“Cara. I made you a promise.” His voice breaks through the haze of lust. “This isn’t how I want to take you.”
His words hit me all at once. He doesn’t know I’m a virgin. At least, I’d never told him I was. But he isn’t talking about that—he’s talking about taking me for himself. When we’re married.
Embarrassment floods through me. I’d made him promise not to touch me before marriage, to not have sex with me until our wedding night. I just never expected him to actually keep it. How ironic—the playboy having some sexual moral code.
My hand releases his, and I scramble backward. Killian kneels there, not moving, letting me get away. The desire is still burning in his, his jaw clenched as he holds himself back. He’s still dressed, the black shirt tight around his tense muscles bulging beneath the fabric, and he regains his self control. I snatch my clothes from the floor, ignoring the way he wipes the sheen of my desire from his lips.
I’d been right. This was a mistake. For one brief second, I’d let my guard down, allowing him to get far too close. Humiliation and guilt clash in my chest. I’d used him tonight to forget the pain and fear from earlier. Not that he seems to mind.
Yanking on my blouse, I ignore the red ribbons and pull on my leggings. “I should go,” I mutter, struggling to slip my heels back on. Killian still says nothing. He just stares at me with that inscrutable I can’t decipher.
Feeling awkward, I grab my clutch from beside him, hobbling towards the door. I can feel him following me, the weight of his presence heavy at my back. “Sorry to bother you. Really, I am.”
He catches the door just as I open it. Leaning around me, Killian catches my eye. “You didn’t bother me, Cara.” The tone of his voice suggests just the opposite.