Page 64 of Crown of Lies

“Not yet,” he says again, his voice firmer now. His hand finds my hair, tugging forcefully, guiding my head back. “You’ll come when I say you can.”

The sting of pain from my hair being pulled shoots a spark straight to my clit. It mingles with the rush of submissioncoursing through me. I need him to take control, to push me past my own mental blocks. If he doesn’t, I know I’ll keep getting caught in my thoughts, slipping into the trauma, the doubt, and the fear that always seem to be waiting just below the surface.

I need him right now, even though this is the only time or place I’ll admit it.

19

KILLIAN

I know she’s close—Ican feel her whole body trembling with anticipation and need. And I could let her come. I want to let her come.

But it’s hardly ever that simple with Quinn, and right now I know I’m the only one who can really, fully give her what she needs.

She’s always so strong, so in control, but right now, she’s mine to command. And it’s not that I want to break her—it’s that I need to put her back together. The Quinn I know is in there somewhere, hidden beneath the trauma and the doubt. I just have to reach her.

So I hold her hips as tight as I can, my grip leaving no room for question. She knows I won’t let her fall, that I’ve got her. But I need her to feel this, to feel me.

“Look at you,” I whisper, my voice rough with desire. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this. So willing to give yourself to me.”

I pull her to me, my hands eager and rough as I tug at her clothes. Her shirt comes off first, and I pause, taking in the sight of her. Her skin is marked—a tattoo, a brand, from Atlas.

I can’t help but reach out, my fingers tracing the ink, and she shivers at my touch. But there’s no time for gentleness now. I need her, and she needs this.

My hands move to her pants, yanking them down along with her panties, needing to feel her, all of her.

“Jesus, look at you,” I breathe, taking in the sight of her naked and wanting. “So fucking wet you’re dripping. Glistening.”

Seeing her like this sends a rush of possession through me. I should claim her, mark her just like Atlas did.

But not now, not in that way. Not tonight, anyway.

I push her down, my hands on her shoulders, guiding her to her knees. Her breath hitches, and I know she’s expecting me to take her, but I want to tease, to draw this out, to make her feel everything.

“Look at me, Quinn,” I demand, and her eyes, glassy with arousal, find mine as she looks back over her shoulder. I slap her ass, loving the sound of the sharp crack filling the room, and her eyes spark with something new—a hint of the fire I know she has burning within her.

“More,” she breathes, and I deliver, landing another slap, this time between her legs. She cries out, her eyes shutting tight, and then they fly open, her gaze meeting mine, full of heat and need.

“Please,” she whispers, and it’s both a plea and a demand. She wants this, needs it, and I’m the only one who can give it to her.

“You like that, don’t you?” I ask, my voice low and rough. “You like it when I slap that greedy little clit.”

The sharp sting of another slap snaps her back to me, and I love that sound—that little cry that’s part pain, part pleasure. It echoes in the room, and for now, it’s our song.

“So fucking needy. But you know I’m in control here, don’t you?”

She nods, her eyes shining with a mixture of desire and something more, something deeper. She knows what’s coming, and she’s ready for it.

I push her farther, forcing her down onto her elbows, and she takes the hint, staying put. I reach for the rope I keep tucked away for moments just like this. It’s soft and worn, but still rough enough to burn as it holds her in place.

Her eyes go wide as I bind her wrists, keeping the rope tight but not too constricting. I know just how much she can take. Then I move to her ankles, securing her in place, leaving her ass up in the air and that dripping pussy practically begging to be used.

“Look at you, all tied up and ready to be fucked. You’re mine now, siren. All mine.”

She can’t hide the want in her eyes, and her body is a giveaway—arching toward me, needing this as much as I do.

“Tell me. Tell me what you want.”

“You. I want you, Killian. I need you to?—”

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