I’m physically flung back when he bangs the door open, appearing nonchalant, effortless, as if he found no trouble eliminating an obstacle that’s in his way.
Which I honestly think he didn’t.
He stalks inside the bathroom, letting the door close with haunting slowness.
I’m trapped with a monster.
One with beautifully cruel features, a sinful physique, and no mask.
He won’t even pretend he’ll take it easy on me now, will he? No promises of I won’t hurt you much, or I won’t fuck you if you suck me off.
This is him uncut.
I wish it was merely a scarface, that if I tried to peel it off, it’d collapse. But it’s his true face. No scars to uncover, and no alternate reality to find.
And I need out of his reach.
Now.
I turn to the toilet’s door; my last resort is to lock myself in there.
Two steps are all I take before I’m wrenched back by a merciless grip on my hair.
I shriek, but the sound is muffled by a harsh hand on my mouth as my back hits his chest.
“Shhh.” His lips brush against my ear, so sinful and dark that my stomach drops. “You don’t want your brother to come in and see his sister getting fucked raw, do you?”
I shake my head frantically, but it’s not to agree with him. It’s so he’ll stop this fucked-up charade.
“What was it he called you?” His voice sounds casual, but it’s anything but. It’s lava spilling from a volcano. A hurricane that’s flipping the ocean inside out. “Right, little princess. Think he’ll still feel that way when he witnesses his baby sis all fucked up with my cum?”
My core clenches and I try to push away from him, but the more I do, the tighter his grip turns on my hair. It’s downright painful and tears spring to my eyes.
“Bet you’re wet like a dirty little slut.” He effortlessly pushes down my shorts so they pool around my ankles and slips a ruthless hand inside my underwear, cupping me. “I knew you’d be soaking for me, baby. You like being manhandled till you can’t breathe. You like how I confiscate your will. It turns you the fuck on, doesn’t it? Admit it, you don’t like my nice side. You’re a fucking whore for my devil side.”
I shriek a “No,” but it comes out like a haunted sound against his hand. It comes out like a big fat lie that I don’t know if I’m believing anymore.
Killian pushes my underwear aside and thrust three fingers in at the same time. My eyes roll back from the ruthless force and the pleasure that pulsates through my core. The fact that he’s muffling my voice and my breaths is making this even more demented.
Erotically sinful.
Killian uses his hold on my mouth to push my head down. “Look at how your cunt is thrilled with my fingers. You wanted me to find you and pin you down and force you to come. You wanted me to make your little pussy sorer so you feel my cock with every step. You want me, baby.”
I shake my head over and over.
He merely shrugs. “It’s up to you whether you believe it or not, and it’s up to me to fuck my cunt whenever I want. See how you’re dripping all over my hand, you dirty slut?”
He makes me watch the in and out of his fingers and my embarrassing arousal. He makes me see every move, every depravity, adding more edge to the act.
“That’s it, swallow them up.” He adds a fourth finger, stuffing it against the others, and I honestly think he’ll tear me or something. “Relax, you took my cock, you can handle this much.”
He pounds them into me at the same time, scissoring, interlinking, deepening them.
My eyes droop and for a moment, I honestly believe I’m going insane from the onslaught of pleasure.
“Think I can fit my whole first in there?” he whispers with dark lust, and my eyes shoot open as I turn my head to shake it.
He merely chuckles. “Don’t faint on me, little rabbit. I still have a lot to punish you for.” He flicks his thumb against my clit, making me see stars instantly.
It’s embarrassing how fast I come from the clit stimulation.
“You didn’t deserve that orgasm after the stunts you pulled today.” He wrenches his fingers out of me and I refuse to recognize the emptiness that takes hold of me.
I refuse to recognize the need for more pulsing inside me.
“If you scream or call for help, I’ll make your brother watch you getting fucked. Do you hear me?”
Bitter tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to let them loose as he releases my mouth but fists my hair.
“Fuck you,” I spit out.
“That foul mouth only gets my cock hard, baby. So if you have any more insults to get off your chest, by all means.”
“You’re the one who pulled the stunts first by posting that picture.”
“The world needed to know you’re mine. I won’t apologize for that. In fact, I’d do it again and earlier so no one would entertain the idea of having you.”
“Let me guess, because only you can?”
“You guessed correctly.”
“I’ll never, ever choose to be with you.”
“News flash. You already are.”
“Not by choice.”
“Don’t fucking care.” He tugs on my hair. “And you’re pushing it. Your pussy will pay the price for that.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. You don’t like being told hard truths?”
“You’re the one who doesn’t. You were pissed off even before you found out about the picture because I told you facts your little moral compass doesn’t approve of.” He shoves me down against the counter and I buck, but he pins me in place by the nape, so I have no choice but to hold on to the edge of the marble. “But here’s the thing, I’m not going to lie to protect your fragile little emotions. What’s so fucking special about emotions anyway? You think you’re great because you have them? Here’s the thing, you see me and you’ll continue to fucking see me, Glyndon. Empty shell, devil side, and all.”
He’s mad. No, probably enraged.
I’ve started to notice that he only calls me by my name when he’s angry.
The sound of his zipper echoes in the bathroom, followed by a slap on my arse cheek. I yelp, but it’s drowned by a moan when he enters me from behind.
I’m supposed to be sore, but the moment he’s fully sheathed inside me, I let out a small whimper.
“Fuck, I’ll never get tired of this,” he murmurs with obvious lust, then thrusts inside me with the rhythm of a madman.
I want the earth to open up and swallow me rather than feel the onslaught of both pleasure and pain.
All of a sudden, he tugs my head up by the hair and makes me stare at the stranger in the mirror.
Killian is behind me, tall like a god and sinister like the devil. His face is hard, his features dark with both lust and domination.
And me?
I’m bent over, being used and abused and utterly dominated by him, but instead of pain, my eyes shine with erotic pleasure. My lips are parted, and my nostrils are flaring.
His hold on my hair makes the scene even more disturbing. Wrong.
Carnal.
“Look at how much you want this, baby. You’re about to cry for it.” He slows his rhythm but deepens it until my hip bone hits the edge of the counter. “Next time, you don’t question that you’re mine, you don’t go around ghosting me for it, and you sure as fucking fuck do not push me away. Is that clear?”
I dig my nails into the marble, feeling every stroke, every burst of pleasure inside.
His teeth meet the flesh of my throat and he bites down, so hard that I shriek.
“Is that fucking clear, Glyndon?”
“No…” I glare at him in the mirror and he bites the spot next to it.
A sob leaves me this time, but the onslaught of pain adds to the friction his cock causes.
“We’ll try again. Is that fucking clear?”
“I don’t want to be yours.”
“Not your call to make.”
“I don’t want to lose myself,” I admit, tears gathering in my cheeks.
“You won’t.”
“How would I know? You’re getting your way with me.”
“It’s up to you whether I punish you and you don’t enjoy it or I actually bring you pleasure.” He rolls his hips and hits a spot inside me that whitens my vision for a brief second. “Say you’re mine, baby.”
I purse my lips, but the fight in me is long gone. I still murmur. “I’ll never be yours.”
“Terrible fucking mistake.” His rhythm turns berserker and it’s intense, so intense that I cry.
So intense that I wish I could die and orgasm at the same time.
But he makes me come again and again, demanding that I say the words.
I don’t.
He could kill me and I fucking wouldn’t.
This is the last part I have of myself, and I vehemently refuse to hand it over.
He said he wouldn’t lie to me.
I will.
Until he finally lets me go.
GLYNDON
Inever knew life could be this hectic, absolutely foreign, and downright…surreal.
It’s been a week since Killian fucked me against the bathroom counter—or more like punished me.
He’s been punishing me ever since.
Yes, he lets me come, even goes as far as making me beg for an orgasm, and while he takes pleasure in satisfying me, he also likes proving his domination and the fact that he holds all the cards.
He picks me up and throws me down, with his fingers on my throat and his cock wreaking havoc inside me. He bites and slaps and leaves all sorts of hickeys and bruises, especially where everyone can see.
He makes it his mission to be touching me somehow in public, whether with his arm around my waist or shoulder, or my hand tucked in his. Anything that will let the world knows that I belong to him.
That no one dares to ‘look at what’s his,’ as he so eloquently told me.
Unlike what I predicted, however, he hasn’t tried to force my friends to accept him. Instead, he’s used a manipulative approach like the way he got Bran to his side.
He’s barged into our circle, without so much as asking for permission, and sits with us for lunch—that he makes for me every day now. He indulges in everyone’s interests and has made them slowly come out of their shells and accept him.
Never once has he used violence or threatened them—that’s obviously just reserved for me.
As for their reactions, they differ. Ava is all for me getting laid, Cecily still doesn’t trust him, Annika seems like she feels sorry for me more than anything, Remi kind of found out about it last and became adorably dramatic, and Creighton just doesn’t care.
When I told Killian that Remi is like the funniest ever, he didn’t appear amused.
If I thought Killian was overbearing before, I’ve come to learn that he’s nothing short of a dictator. Not only does he want all his orders met, but he also has zero tolerance for opposition.
The more I say no, the more ruthless he becomes. The harder I fight, the more severe my ‘punishment’ is. And that can happen anytime, anywhere. Whether it’s in his car—that he got fixed in record time—his room, my room—after he sneaks in from the balcony—or at the firefly lake, that’s sort of become our meeting spot.
Bottom line is, I’m getting trapped deeper into the web he’s been customizing for me and I’m not sure of the way out.
Do I even want a way out?
Killian is not totally a devil and can actually be nice. He prepares all my meals, and makes sure I eat my food and drink my water—he totally sounded like a doctor when he ordered that.
The other day, I caught him watching Inception and he said he wanted to see it again and imagine me watching it for the first time. Totally didn’t like it when I said Leonardo DiCaprio is my celebrity crush, though.
Anyway, he shows interest in my interests, has subscribed to a shit ton of art magazines and bought me a premium palette just because he felt like it.
Then he told me to paint him fucking me with it, the bastard.
As if that’s not enough, he always makes me talk about my art, my friends, and my family. He even chooses to do it when my guard is down, after sex, because he knows I become more open then.