Page 31 of Romancing the Reaper

“That’s my girl. It’s all yours.” Kieran says, standing and pulling his pants down. I swear my mouth fucking waters to see him hard and aching for me. I don’t even move from how I’m positioned half over the kitchen island and he slides my wetness over me once more and slips inside of my pussy. But this time, his thumb pushes into my other hole and I dissolve. I think I might be a puddle as he fucks me. It’s such a strange feeling, almost like it should be forbidden, but I think I like it. He pushes his thumb slowly in and out, a whole contrast to the steady pace he sets with his cock.

Yes, I’m absolutely getting addicted to the feeling of him inside me, the husky sounds that he makes when he gets close and the reverent way that he touches me. How he can manage to be a total mixture of soft, delicate touches and such satisfying, firm movements I don’t know - but it feels like some sort of magic. This time, my orgasm unfurls slowly, spreading through my limbs like wildfire, catching and intensifying. No quick explosion but a steady wave that I don’t ever want to stop riding. The intensity of it blots out my surroundings. Higher and higher without seeming to end. Kieran pulls me back into his chest, and kisses me sweetly through the last of it

It worked.

I don’t know if it’s the physical activity or how warm and satisfied I am, or if it’s something else entirely. I don’t know and I don’t think that I care right now. It might not work again but for now, he has overridden the anxiety response to run the moment something heavy sits in my stomach because he had me too focused on my own pleasure.

I think I came so hard that I saw stars. Actual stars, thanks to the powerful orgasm and the resulting rush of serotonin. That has to be it. Obviously, it’s not going to work to have Kieran fuck me each and every time that I need to eat, but for now?

I don’t think that I’ve felt this at peace in years.

My stomach doesn’t hurt. My heart isn’t pounding and I’m too tired to feel the screaming anxiety that’s normally constant in the back of my mind.

Kieran smiles down at me and kisses my forehead sweetly before reaching down to the floor where he had discarded my shirt.

We’ve made a mess of the kitchen. Bits of food and a couple of broken plates litter the floor that will have to be taken care of. All I want to do is sleep. I’m sorely tempted to ask him to carry me to bed. But my pride won’t let me.

Gingerly, I slide off of the kitchen counter.

Kieran slaps my ass, hard. I jump and spin to face him.

He hands me the shirt.

“Get dressed, we’ve still got a lot of work to do.”

“What?!” I gasp.

“We have to clean up the kitchen. I know it’s going to be difficult to keep you hands off me, princess, but you’re going to have to try.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

KIERAN

Given what just happened, washing the dishes at her side feels incredibly domestic.

The tension from earlier is gone. Maybe the key to keeping her docile is making sure that she has plenty of orgasms. Things could certainly be a lot worse.

Given the circumstances, Ada’s warming up to me far more quickly than I intended. It feels like a truce. I never thought that my spontaneous seduction would work quite as well as it did.

I havenoobjection to repeating that performance with every meal. It just means that I’ll have to develop a whole other kink that I never knew I had. For her? I’m more than willing to put in the work.

My gaze drifts to the way the hem of my shirt just barely covers the curve of her thigh, where her leg meets her ass. It’s so tempting to grab her.

I could lift her right back up onto this kitchen counter and have my way with her. It’s a dangerous trap. She’s occupying all of my thoughts, and something as simple as cleaning the dishes with her should not feel so peaceful. It’s a chore, that’s all it should be. Yet, here we are. I’m almost afraid of breaking the silence lest the mood between us change again.

The doorbell does it for me.

The dish that Ada’s in the process of drying nearly falls from her hands as she whips around in shock. I catch it before it can fall and shatter, setting it on the counter gently.

I can tell from the way she’s breathing that she’s frightened.

She doesn’t need to be. There isn’t anybody that knows the location of this house that would ever do anything to her. Liam’s the only one that I’ve trusted with this knowledge. I’ve gone to great lengths to make sure that it’s unplottable.

I dry my hands quickly and head to the door, placing my hand on the keypad to open the locks with an electric beep. Liam is standing there in the doorway with an infuriatingly dopey grin and his arms laden with designer bags. If I hadn’t been the one to order everything, I would have thought that he had spent the day at the mall.

“Found these on the doorstep. Figured that they might be for your… guest,” Liam says sarcastically.

“Ah, so you’ve seen the charges?”

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