I try to shake my head, but I don’t know if it moves. The lack of oxygen turns me lightheaded. The good kind. The kind that throbs in my core and against his jeans.
Shit.
Please don’t tell me this is what I think it is.
My senses are heightened to an extent I’ve never felt before. My head thrums in an irregular rhythm causing my eyes to droop, but I can smell him deep in my bones. The woodsy, amber scent is no different than an intoxicating substance. Like alcohol.
Or drugs.
No, probably worse.
My stomach quivers as I inhale every painstaking drag, on and on, my belly drops and fills and empties in a rhythm I can’t keep up with.
But the worst part is that my hands that are clawing at any part I can reach, but I don’t think it’s to push him off me anymore. I just want the pads of my fingers on his skin, my blunt nails leaving marks on him as he does on me.
“Or maybe you’d like that.” He presses his thumb against my pulse point with the brutality of a savage animal. “Maybe being choked turns you the fuck on like it makes me fucking hard.”
I should be appalled by the suggestion, should try to scratch his eyes out, but something entirely different slips from my mouth.
A moan.
I want to find excuses, to say it’s a moan of pain, or discomfort, but I can’t think straight, let alone attempt to trick my brain.
Killian’s lips pull in a cruel smirk. He’s not happy about this, on the contrary, the anger from earlier is slowly gathering in the stormy blues of his eyes.
They’re a shade darker now.
Charcoal, black, and every cold hue that hasn’t seen the sun.
“I knew you were more than your looks suggested. You had this clean, innocent, and utterly pretty aura, but really, you’re nothing more than a dirty little whore, aren’t you? All this fighting and running and fucking shenanigans were just a way to provoke me so I’d throw you down and fuck you on all fours like a fucking animal. Or maybe so I’d shove you headfirst against the nearest surface, like this wall, and fill you up with my cum.”
His free hand slides over my aching breasts and he cups one violently. “Tell me, were you thinking of me when you wore this red dress or was it for Gareth?”
Pleasure starts where he’s touching my breasts and ends in my core, and all I can do is focus on it.
“Answer the fucking question, Glyndon. Is he the one you wanted to feel up these pretty little tits and make these perky nipples all hard?” He pinches one and I gasp. “You always wanted the nice guy; too bad you got the fucking villain.”
“It wasn’t him…” I choke out.
“Come again?” He loosens his grip so I can breathe properly.
“The dress is for…you,” I admit on a breath.
I think that will delight him, but his face remains on the edge.
“It was for me, huh?” His hand slides from my breast to my hip, then he shoves the skirt of my dress to my waist, exposing my thighs and underwear. “You even put on lace panties and came prepared to be fucked.” He rubs his fingers against them and I can’t pretend to close my eyes out of pure mortification. “Are you sure it’s for me? Or are you saying that to please me?”
I shake my head.
“The thought of you dolling up to seduce my brother drives me fucking insane. The thought of you imagining his fucking fingers onmypussy while you were cleaning and dressing it makes me see red.”
His fingers tighten on my throat and it’s like I’m gasping for air through a straw again.
And the most embarrassing part is, my undies are utterly soaked, and I think he feels it. I think he knows exactly the type of effect he has on me.
“Did you think I’d let him touch what’s mine and live to talk about it?” He tugs me close by the neck and tilts his head down until his lips nearly touch mine and I can see my reflection in his savage eyes.
Do I really look that aroused?