Page 65 of Crown of Lies

I don’t let her finish, driving into her in one swift motion. She cries out, her body tightening around me, and I know I’m hitting that sweet spot. I pull out and thrust again, harder this time, loving the way she takes me, how her body opens for me.

“That’s it, take it. You’re doing so good. Taking this fucking cock like that’s what you were made to do.”

There’s no mercy in my pace. Each thrust a little harder than the last, a little deeper. She’s gasping for each breath and her body is starting to tremble all over again, but this time in a good way. The best possible way.

I know she’s close, but I want to draw this moment out as long as I can.

“You want to come, siren? You can come for me.”

“I—I can’t. It’s too much. I need a second. Please, Killian.”

I slam into her, silencing her words with the force of my thrusts. I know what she needs, and it’s not gentleness or time to think. It’s me, my body claiming hers, taking away her control, and giving it back to her all at once.

“That’s it, let go. Come for me, siren. Let it all go.”

My words push her over the edge, and she shudders, crying out my name as her body tightens, milking me, her legs shaking with the force of her release.

I don’t stop, pulling her up roughly to kiss her. She tastes like need and something wilder—a taste I crave. My hands are everywhere—tangling in her hair, pulling her closer, mapping the curves of her body.

I slow my movements to keep myself from coming as I tease and torment, taking her by the hips again and lifting her up and down on me.

“Good. So fucking good. But you can still stop it. You know that, right? If you didn’t want this, you could end it. Say your safe word, and I’d stop. I’d have to. You know that, don’t you?”

She nods. Her eyes are glassy but her gaze is still locked on to mine. “I don’t want to stop. I want you. I choose you. I’m not going to say that word.”

Hearing those words, that admission—it sends another possessive rush through me. She’s choosing this, giving herself to me, willingly, eagerly. I speed up, needing to feel her tighten around me again.

I pull out of her suddenly, and her eyes spark with confusion. But she doesn’t question me.

Her ass is up, cheeks still rosy red from the smacks I’ve already given them and the relentless pounding since then. Without warning, I bring my hand down again on that perfect ass, making her yelp.

She looks back at me with nothing but pure need in her eyes. Need for release. Need for this.

So I give it to her—my hand coming down again and again until the sound fills the room. Her broken sobs mix with the sharpness of my palm against her sensitive skin. I land another slap, and another, until both cheeks are a deep, angry red and I can feel the heat radiating off her in waves.

Her sobs turn into incoherent pleas, but I know she’s not asking me to stop. She’s begging me to keep going, to break her down, to take away the heaviness she carries and replace it with something lighter, something she can bear.

I shift, moving between her legs, loving the way she parts for me willingly, eagerly. I thrust into her, gripping her hips tightly again and knowing I’ll leave marks there too.

Good.

With each thrust, I feel her getting closer to the edge. She’s shaking, sobbing, but I don’t stop. Her pleasure is my pleasure, and I’m going to wring every last drop of it from her body.

Her walls clench around me, milking me, and I know she’s close. I reach for her clit and rub in tight circles as I drive into her again and again.

“Fucking come for me.” I nip at her ear, thrusting all the way into her. “Let go.”

And she does. With a moan that’s almost a scream, she shatters, her upper body flattening to the bed as she cries out her release.

The sensation of her pussy milking me is too much. I come hard, filling her up and keeping my cock buried deep inside her.

When I finally pull out, I watch as my cum spills out of her. Possessiveness grips me, and I push it right back inside. Where it belongs. She whimpers, her body clearly sensitive and overstimulated, but she takes it, accepts it, welcomes it.

I carefully untie the ropes, keeping my movements slow and deliberate. She collapses onto the bed as soon as she’s free, her body completely spent. I scoop her up and pull her onto my lap, cradling her against my chest and letting her curl into me, nestling her head under my chin.

Her body is still trembling slightly, aftershocks still rippling through her. I stroke her hair, my fingers running through the soft strands as I murmur soothing words.

“You did so well, little siren. So damn well. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

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