Page 104 of Lock Up the Darkness

“You lock me in here with you and we won’t be healing up. I’ll tear into you, sweetheart. And I won’t stop until you’re a writhing, screaming, and begging mess for me.”

Kill and I had been shocked when he’d spoken those words to her, explicitly showing how much he wanted her.

He didn’t want anybody.

Not even me.

Not really. I was just a scratching post to him. It was more than fine with me, I just wanted him to bring it and get me off like nobody else ever could.

But with Aurora he was actually craving her.

And what was more, he actually cared about her.

More than her being his soldier, his weapon against Carson.

Kill had filled me in on him holding back for her majorly when he’d had a taste of her on his lap the other day. He’d made her come like some kind of sweet and tender lover, not the ravaging, ruining monster that he really was. He hadn’t even taken his own pleasure. Then again, making her come had seemed to please him enough, according to Kill, even transcending physical need and the desires of his own cock getting some.

It was… fuck, it was another level.

Then he’d pushed for that agreement to leave her be, to give her some peace. There was no other reason other than her own wellbeing that he’d done it for.

Jesus Christ.

And now, here Killian was, going full-on obsessed over her.

While all this weird ass shit had been going on, I’d been suffering from a serious case of blue balls. Normally, a session with Asher could tide me over for a while and calm the savage beast raging inside of me. Failing that, a spot of violence with a whole lot of bloodletting could get the job done. But the last one hadn’t happened for at least a couple of weeks. And the Asher thing hadn’t lasted that long at all. Because of that fucking fight in the ring. Seeing Aurora let loose like that, all that brutality she’d unleashed. The smell of blood in the air. The unrestrained violence. It’d had me as hard as a rock and fired up that feral part of me something fierce. Seeing her like that had been sparking memories of that night I’d tasted her, inundating me over and over and demanding to be heard.

Hell, demanding to be furthered.

Aside from Asher, she was the only person who’d been able to deal that ferocity out and handle my animal side in kind.

I wanted another go.

Nah, I wanted to take it all the fucking way.

But with Asher stabbing her, it’d wasted a shitload of time with her healing up.

Fuck, I couldn’t stand it another second.

I pulled my phone from my robe—a red satin one I used for some dramatics when I stepped into the ring with Kill or when the three of us went out for a night of fun to the underground fighting circuits in the city.

Watching Kill come to a halt a few feet from her door and start pacing back and forth with indecision, I took a moment to fire off a text.

Jonah: I need a throat fuck.

There was a brief delay until he texted back.

Asher: Up to my balls in paint right now.

Paint? He never painted this late. Unless he was majorly stressed.

Huh. More like, in this case, hella frustrated. Sexually.

That boded well for me.

Jonah: I’m down with licking them clean.

Asher: Sucking and biting too.

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