I lay my head on his shoulder and yelp when he turns completely in my direction and wraps both arms around me, then places me on top of him. Even while his eyes are closed.
Pleasure pools in my knickers and I clench my thighs.
I think the bastard has orgasm-trained me or something. Being on top of him only happens after he fucks my brains out. When sex isn’t the main focus, he sits me between his legs or on his lap. So now that the fucking hasn’t happened and I’m on top, my body is acting up because of it.
I rub myself against his semi-hard erection, then stop.
What the hell am I doing? He’s sleeping and feverish and I should go to hell for this.
Forcing myself to calm down, I close my eyes and let sleep whisk me away.
* * *
A moan slipsfrom my throat.
Another one follows.
And another.
Oh, God.
His hands slide up my stomach to my nipple and then down again, but that’s not all.
My core clenches due to being rubbed on and on by his very hard cock.
I’m such a pervert for dreaming about this when he’s sick, but I guess I underestimated my sexually frustrated state when I went to sleep.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, baby. Sometimes I want to cage you so no one but me can look at you.” Even his voice is slightly slurred but so deliciously deep and dark, like when he’s touching me for real.
The dream gets ten out of ten for details.
“I want to shoot everyone who dares to look in your direction or cause you pain. I want to bathe in their fucking blood and throw their insides at your feet. I want to fuck you there, too, in their blood, to stake a claim. You’d probably bolt if I said this to you directly, so I won’t. I’ll just keep owning you over and over, until you can no longer think about leaving me. I’ll be your shadow so no one dares to hurt you.”
He accentuates his words with a rub against my pussy, a pinch to my nipple, a bite to my stomach. He’s everywhere, and I wish that was the only reason I was turned on.
His words have the strangest effect on me, they make me delirious and greedy for more.
Maybe I’m sick, too, for being this aroused by his threats of murder for me.
His fingers leave my nipples and slide to my throat. The moment they squeeze, my air vanishes.
Killian throws my leg up against his chest and he pounds inside in one delicious go.
This isn’t a dream.
My eyes fly open, and sure enough, I’m completely naked. My legs are flung over his shoulders as he holds them hostage with one hand while the other is currently on the verge of suffocating me.
Wasn’t this crazy bastard feverish not too long ago? Actually, he still is, judging by his hot touch.
Or maybe that’s me.
Just how can he have this intense power, even worse than usual, when he’s sick?
Apparently, my body doesn’t understand that logic, considering the sluicing sound of his cock going in and out of me.
The fact that he didn’t give a fuck that I was asleep and took what he wanted anyway makes me a mess.
A wanton mess.
I dig my fingers in his wrist, fruitlessly trying to ease his hold on my neck even as I soak his dick and the sheets with my arousal.
“That’s it. Fight, baby.” His expression is manic, absolutely terrifying. “The more you do, the harder I fuck you.”
I go berserk, scratching and clawing and trying to hurt him anywhere I can reach.
And as he promised, he fucks me harder and faster, with a power that knocks the living breath out of me.
“That’s my fucking girl,” he grunts, his eyes half closed, probably with both dark lust and the fever’s pain. “You’re the most beautiful I’ve ever seen when you’re taking my cock like a dirty little whore.” He releases my legs. “Keep them there. If they fall, we’ll start all over again.” Then he reaches between us and glides my arousal to my back hole, making me shudder, then thrusts a finger inside. “Your ass is feeling lonely. Look at it clenching around my finger wanting to take part in the fun. You’ll let me fuck you raw until you’re screaming my name, won’t you?”
I’m choking on my breaths and unable to think, just feel.
So I fall into that sensation of being completely ravaged by him. His hand, his cock, and his finger in my arse are all moving at the same time, creating the maddest chaos.
“Maybe I should fuck it right now so you know what a huge cock actually feels like.”
My eyes widen, and I come, just like that. I think there’s something wrong with me, because this is definitely one of the strongest orgasms I’ve had yet.
My moans mix with chopped-off screams and it goes on and on, until I think I’ll pass out.
“Such an innocent face for a dirty little slut. Your mouth likes to sing the ‘no’ tune, but you’re choking my cock at the promise of me taking your ass like an animal.” His lips pull in a snarl. “And yet, that motherfucking brother of yours dares to say he’ll give you to someone else. He has the audacity to think I’d let anyone but me see you like this.”
It’s that rage again, it’s bleeding off him in waves, and he stretches my back hole with his finger as his rhythm goes out of control.
“The only reason he’s not buried six feet under is because of you, Glyndon.”
I believe him. Wholeheartedly.
Shit.
If it wasn’t for whatever fixation he has on me and the knowledge that I would rather die than have him hurt my brother, he’d totally take it personally.
He is taking it personally.
But I still feel a tiny bit of relief at the knowledge that the thought of me, not my actions, have the power to stop him.
He eases his hold on my throat. “Say you’re mine.”
“Stop it, Killian.” I pant, downright shivering with the remnants of my orgasm. “You’re feverish.”
“I can still stuff you with my cum while you orgasm again. Now, say the fucking words, Glyndon.”
I shake my head, even as tears of pleasure gather in my eyes.
“If this is playing hard to get, then you’ve taken it too fucking far. Say it.”
“I can’t,” I force out.
“Then you might as well not speak again.” His hand that was around my throat slams on my mouth.
Killian opens my legs far apart so he can fit between them as he leans close. The new position gives him more depth and he fucks me like a madman and thrusts another finger in my arse, stretching me to the brim.
I can’t scream or moan, and any sound I release comes out haunted, muffled, and absolutely terrifying.
He’s probably thinking about killing me, but I’m coming again.
Just being handled roughly by him, not being allowed to even scream, is enough to have me shatter to pieces.
No matter how much I try to deny it, I love this part of him.
This part of us.
“I knew you were custom-made for me, baby.” He still sounds angry, but he’s aroused. “I’m going to fill you up with my cum so you know exactly who you fucking belong to.”
I shudder as warmth spreads over my insides. I expect him to pull out, but he stays there, semi-hard and slowly rocks his hips as if making sure that not one drop leaves.
Killian watches me, half focused, his eyes almost closed, but he continues the erotic movements.
“Maybe I should fill you up with my baby,” he murmurs, so low I can barely hear him. “That way you can’t escape me.”
Then he releases my mouth, collapses on top of me, absolutely burning, and completely crushes me with his weight.
I push at his shoulders, but he’s as unmoving as a buffalo.
“Killian,” I strain.
He grunts and effortlessly flips us over so he’s carrying my weight, but he’s still deep inside me.
“I can sleep on the bed,” I whisper.
“My body is a better bed,” he slurs back without opening his eyes.
“Take medication, you’re burning up.”
“Mmm.”
“Killian…”
His arms wrap around my middle, keeping me in place as he inhales me. “You chose me.”
“What?”
“Back there, you chose me in front of your brother. Brothers, plural. And that fucker Eli.”
Shit. He was conscious during that?
Killian kisses the top of my head and before I can backpedal, he says the words that go straight to my heart. “I’ll make sure you always choose me as much as I choose you.”
GLYNDON
I’m losing a piece of myself.
And it’s happening so fast that I can’t catch my breath during the process.
In fact, I only realized it when I couldn’t sleep in the flat I share with the girls anymore. It became absolutely strange and appalling to sleep on any bed other than Killian’s.
It’s been three weeks since that night I woke up with his dick inside me and slowly fused my life with his.
I’m losing control—or whatever control I have.
Which is why I’m drinking right now with everyone in a downtown quiet-ish pub. Well, as quiet as pubs that uni kids go to can get. At least it’s not rowdy like the bigger club on the other side of town.
An unknown band plays in the background, the music drowned out by the sound of chatter and the pinging of billiard balls. The smell of alcohol permeates the air or maybe just my nose.
I don’t usually drink, because it makes me act like a fool, but it’s not like I’m doing it with strangers.
After making sure I have enough shots to send me into a coma, I down the fifth. No, I think it’s the seventh.
“Easy on the alcohol, Glyn,” Cecily chastises from beside me. She’s been nursing one glass of tequila since we got here.
“Let her be.” Remi slides a shot glass in my direction. “I love drunk Glyndon.”
I smile with one eye open and hold the glass up, then drink it. “One in your honor, Remi.”
“Hell to the fucking yeah.” He pours another shot down his throat. “My lordship has decided to forgive you for choosing this boring pub.”
I roll my hand exaggeratingly and bow. “Much appreciated, Your Majesty.”
“It’s your lordship, peasant.”
“Her mum has a lady title.” Ava pokes him with a chip. “Ignorant much?”
“Wait, really? How come I’m only finding out about this now?” Remi looks up, placing an L on his chin in a comical thoughtful gesture. “Must be because you all act like peasants, except for you, Bran. You’re definitely aristocracy. Beautiful, suave, and with that untouchable charisma. You take that after me.”
Bran shakes his head. “I was born before you, Remi.”
“So? You can still take after me. Isn’t that right, Cray Cray?”
My cousin seems more preoccupied with his phone than anyone at the table.
Annika lounges opposite him, looking like a real-life Barbie. She stopped chattering on and on in Creigh’s company lately and even started to distance herself. Not sure if it’s because she gets absolutely no answer in return or she couldn’t be bothered anymore. Sometimes, I feel sorry for her. She had to be interested in someone who doesn’t feel the need to talk.
It’s why he gets along with Bran. They can sit around for hours on end and not say a word. No kidding. Ava and Remi tested it once.
Since Bran gets along with Mia, Creigh could, too, if he meets her. Though in the few times we’ve gotten together over the past couple of weeks, I gathered that she’s expressive, just doesn’t talk. Killian said it’s due to an incident that took place in her childhood. And he’s become her personal translator whenever Bran and I are around.
Sometimes, he’ll be a dick and refuse to, so she’s teaching us sign language now.
Despite his wanker behavior, I like Killian when Mia’s around. He treats her like his little sister, just like Nikolai does. Her twin, Maya, told me that he once broke a high school boy’s jaw because he kept bullying her for being ‘mute.’
Nikolai was offended that he was the last to hear, so when the boy healed, he sent him back to the ER for other injuries.
And while the recounting of events had me shocked for a while, I’m more touched about his involvement in Mia’s life.
It’s a side of him that shows he can care. That, under the right circumstances, he can consider something precious.
Or maybe I’m just deluding myself.
One more shot.