“That wasn’t a request, Glyndon. Either we do this while you’re sketching or without it. Either would work with me.”
“You damn dictator.” I glare at him through the mirror. “I’m going to pretend you’re not there.”
A low chuckle fills the room. “By all means. I’d love to see you try.”
I smooth a page, fully intent on ignoring the hell out of him as I let the mechanical pencil slide over the page in continuous, condensed strokes.
In my peripheral vision, I catch Killian smirking at me in the mirror as he pulls his shirt over his head and throws it to the side, then follows with his trousers and boxers.
My hand falters on the paper and his smirk widens as he stands in full view beside my body in front of the mirror.
“Like what you see, baby?”
The bastard knows how cruelly beautiful he is and doesn’t hesitate to use the fact as a weapon.
But I refuse to stare at or admire him right now. For once, he won’t have his way.
He reaches a hand to my hair and I think he’ll tug me back by it because he doesn’t like to be ignored, but he merely strokes it. “Did you know that the first time I saw you, I wanted to grab you by this hair as you choked on my cock?”
I purse my lips and continue sketching, not even knowing where I’m going with this.
He kneels behind me and slides a hand to my throat. “I also wanted to grab this delicate pulse and feel it beneath my fingers, knowing that I have the power to weaken and then eventually put it to halt…like right now.”
My heart comes to a thudding stop before it resurrects back to life as he squeezes. I meet his eyes in the mirror, mine bulging, his dark.
“Oh, look at that. I finally have your attention.” He relaxes his hold enough to allow me air as his other hand glides the other strap over my shoulder. “I also thought about ripping your clothes off and claiming you then and there.”
He bunches a fistful of my dress in his hand from behind and pulls with savage strength that rips it, letting it fall to shreds around us. “Like that.”
“K-Killian…”
“Shh, focus on sketching.”
My fingers twitch and I let the pencil bleed on the paper in a symphony of chaos that matches my insides.
He uses the chance to unclasp my bra, letting my aching breasts bounce free.
I brace myself for the pinch of my sensitive nipple, but he gently cups my breast, eliciting an erotic shudder from deep within my soul.
“I didn’t touch your tits that day, remember? But these nipples were hard, peeking from beneath that shirt, begging to be fucked as ruthlessly as your mouth.”
I shake my head, but he squeezes my nipple and I gasp as the jab of pleasure zaps straight to my core.
“Lies.” He pinches again and again, until I’m about to double over and tears gather in my eyes. “Look at you moaning and crying at the same time. Pick one, my little slut.”
“Fuck you.”
His erection stabs at my underwear-covered arse and he groans. “We’ll get to that in a bit. But we need to settle something first.”
He continues the rhythm of pinching my nipples, alternating between the two until my vision blurs and I’m ready to beg him to stop.
For some reason, I don’t.
For some reason, this part of him ticks all of my twisted boxes.
“Now, my little rabbit, you might act like you hate that night and me all you like, but it’s a fact that you got turned on by having your will confiscated. I saw it in your glittering eyes and shaky limbs. I saw it in your hard nipples and rosy cheeks. I bet you didn’t understand it yourself, but lucky for you, I can.”
“That’s not true,” I choke out, my voice so lustful, it’s shameful.