Page 31 of Deadly Oath

Kian takes a deep, unsteady breath, his fingers flexing against my sides. “You saw me boxing that day in the gym, yeah?”

I nod, the pieces starting to fit together. “You got this from boxing?”

“Fighting, yeah. Unofficially. I had a fight tonight.” Kian’s chest heaves, and I feel a throb of excitement at the thought of him in a ring, facing off against another man, dripping sweat the way he was that day in the gym. I picture them circling each other, trading blows, gripping and wrestling, the violence of it, and I feel a thrill that I hadn’t expected. “That’s how I got banged up.”

“Did you win?” I whisper, and a slow, feral grin spreads across his face.

“Yeah, I fuckin’ won.”

Before I can stop myself, I wrap my fist in the front of his t-shirt, and drag his mouth back down to mine.

Once again, there’s the difference between what I know I’m supposed to feel, and how Ireallyfeel. I’m supposed to be horrified, frightened, maybe even disgusted at the violence. I should be angry at Kian for exposing me to it, for letting me see this side of him instead of keeping it hidden.

But the truth is that it’s turning me on, my desire running hot at the salty iron taste of the blood on his lip, pressed against my tongue as I kiss him back with the same fervor that he kissed me. That the smell of sweat and metallic violence on his skin is making me want him more, making me want everything about him that’s real and primal andalive.

The men I’ve known all my life have always been brutal. I’ve always lived in the center of a circle of violence. But the difference is that they hid it around me. They put on crisp, expensive suits, drank champagne, danced to string music, and held polite conversation. Everything about who they were was covered with a veneer of respectability.

Kian is raw and real. He’s violent, but I see it, all out here in the open for me to accept or reject. And that reality pulses through me, awakening needs that I never knew I had. Making me want things I can’t put words to, or even really know how to picture.

All I know is I wanthim. Like this, here—now.

I tangle my legs around his, arching up as I slant my mouth against his, and Kian groans with a sound that’s almost pain. His hips thrust against mine, that hard ridge of his cock grinding against me, and his fingers curl into my shirt, yanking it up.

He breaks the kiss only long enough to strip my shirt off, his left arm sliding around my waist to lift me as he roughly strips off my bra as well. His callused palms cover my breasts instantly, molding them, scratching over my nipples as I moan and arch under his touch.

“You’re mine tonight, Sabrina,” he growls, his head dropping forward as his mouth connects with my throat, and he sucks at the soft flesh there. “All of you. I’m going to fuck you tonight, little rabbit. And I can’t fucking wait to feel you come on my cock.”

There’s no question, no asking permission. But then again, no one was ever going to ask to be my first. The only one who ever had the power to give my virginity away before this was my father—I was expected to simply lay down and spread my legs for whoever was told he could put a ring on my finger.

Now, if I say no, if I push Kian away—he would stop. I don’t think he would force himself on me. He has no claim on me, and no right to this—but he’s decided that it’s going to be his, and I can’t think of any argument against it that doesn’t wash away on a tide of arousal before it can even be fully formed.

I want this. I want him. And as he yanks at the button of my pants, jerking my jeans roughly down my hips, I grab his shirt and pull it up, wanting to see him shirtless again for the first time since I caught him at the gym.

Kian helps, ripping the shirt over his head with one hand as he works my jeans down with the other, and I suck in a breath as I see his bare torso.

There’s a bruise purpling on his ribs, and another on his lower abdomen, some dried blood flaking on his skin. But underneath it is taut flesh and ridged muscle, leading up to his broad chest and shoulders and corded biceps. And all of it is inked with tattoos, swirls and etchings of patterns drawn across his skin.

I reach up, touching him, and Kian sucks in a breath like he’s been burned. I’m bare beneath him, and he yanks down his shorts, kicking them away as, for the first time, all of his naked flesh comes into contact with all of mine.

The hot, heavy weight of his erection presses against the taut flesh of my lower stomach. Kian thrusts against me, groaning as his mouth dips to claim mine again, and his knee pushes mine apart with an urgency that makes my thighs spread without struggle.

He reaches down, his fingers dipping between my folds, and hemoans again when he finds how wet I am. His fingers slide upwards, through the drenched mess that he’s made of me, up to my swollen clit as he swirls that wetness around it and rubs firmly.

“Fuck, I need to be in you,” he moans, his fingers rolling steadily over my clit. “Come for me, princess. Come so I can fuck you.”

Pleasure spreads through me, hot and bright and burning, tightening that coil of building arousal in my stomach, pushing me closer to the edge. Dimly, I’m aware of how thick he feels against me, of the insistent throb of his cock, the slick, liquid sensation of his pre-cum against my skin. I remember how he stretched my lips when I slid them over him, how fuckingbighe is—and how I have no idea how he’s possibly going to fit inside of me.

But all of that seems like a distant worry, compared to the way it feels as he strokes my clit, his tongue tangling with mine in a matching rhythm, his chest heaving against mine as he urges me on. He seems desperate for my orgasm, desperate for me to come, and that only spurs me on, making me moan and writhe against him as I feel my muscles tense and coil, that precipice of ecstasy growing closer with every moment.

His thumb replaces his fingers swiftly, so swiftly he hardly misses a beat, rubbing back and forth insistently as I gasp and arch. I’m close, so fucking close, and I think he can tell, because he breaks the kiss and looks directly down into my eyes as they fly open.

“Come for me, princess,” he demands, and I feel that release sweep over me like a tide.

In the instant I feel the orgasm hit, pleasure fanning out through my every nerve, his two fingers plunge inside of me. I cry out at the sudden sharp, hot pain of it, the stabbing sensation of his fingers driving into my clenching pussy, tangling up with the intense pleasure and confusing every sensory part of me. I don’t know if it’s bad or good, pain or pleasure, but I’m coming on his hand, coming hard, and my hips buck upwards as I clench around his thrusting fingers.

Kian rears back, his knee shoving my legs wider still, and one of his hands grabs my upper thigh as the other reaches between us, lining up his swollen cockhead with my drenched entrance.

“God, I’ve been fucking waiting for this,” he growls, and hethrusts.

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