Page 65 of Bonds of Obsession

23

QUINN

Killian pinsme to the door, his massive hand wrapping around my throat. Just the slight pressure there makes my pussy clench, giving my racing thoughts somewhere to settle. His raw strength radiates through every point of contact between us, but there’s control in it too—the kind of absolute control that I’ve learned to trust one hundred percent.

“Remember your word,” he growls against my ear. “And fucking say it if you need it. Understand?”

“I remember. I understand,” I gasp out, and his grip tightens just enough to make my breath catch. His fingers flex against my throat, a reminder of who’s in control.

“Good girl,” he rumbles as his other hand slides down between my thighs. I’m still fully clothed, but he doesn’t seem bothered by the layers of denim and fabric that separate us. “I bet you’re already fucking wet for me. I bet you could get off just from imagining what I’m gonna do to you.”

I hate that he’s so fucking right, but I love it at the same time.

He uses the inseam of my jeans to his advantage, zeroing in on my clit and rubbing the rough, coarse denim against it.

“Oh my fucking god,” I moan as my legs begin to tremble. Everything starts to fade away—all the worries about Ambrose,about the Dark Lotus Syndicate, about Emmett’s betrayal. It all disappears under Killian’s touch until there’s nothing left but the raw need building between my legs and the safety I feel in his dangerous hands.

“That’s it.” His voice drops to that dark place that makes me shiver. “Let go for me, siren. Give me those sweet moans. Show me how fucking desperate you are.”

I am desperate, grinding shamelessly against his hand. That’s the thing about Killian—as deadly as he is, as much as he terrifies other people, I’ve never felt safer than when I’m being manhandled by him. He may be broken in some ways, may struggle to process emotions like other people do, but his possession is absolute. When he claims something as his, he owns every fucking inch of it.

And right now? He owns all of me.

My mind empties of everything except him—his scent of leather and whiskey filling my senses, his thumb pressing harder against my fluttering pulse point, the solid wall of his chest crushing me against the door. My clit throbs under his rough attention, and I’m close to begging him to fuck me already.

“Please,” I whimper, not even caring how needy I sound. With Killian—within the privacy and protection of these four walls—I don’t have to be a leader. I don’t have to be strong for anyone. I can just be his cock-hungry little siren, exactly the way he wants me.

“Please what?” He bites down on my neck, hard enough to leave a mark. “Use your words like a good girl. Tell me exactly what that greedy little pussy needs.”

Heat floods my cheeks, but I’m too far gone to care about pride. “Please fuck me. I need your cock inside me. Need you to—fuck!” I cry out as he yanks my jeans open roughly, shoving his hand inside to feel how wet I am.

“Fucking drenched,” he growls approvingly, two thick fingers pushing into me without warning. “This tight little pussy belongs to me. To us. No one else gets to see you like this, do they? No one else knows what a desperate slut you are for us.”

I shake my head frantically, clenching around his fingers as he finger-fucks me hard against the door. “No one else,” I gasp. “Just you. Just my men.”

Even with his fingers buried inside me, thoughts of Ambrose try to creep in—memories of Atlas’s screams over the phone, the way he looked when we finally got him back. But Killian’s hand tightens on my throat, as if he can sense my mind wandering. My heart pounds harder as the pressure increases, dragging my focus back where it belongs.

“Stay with me, siren. The only thing you need to think about is how I’m going to wreck this pretty hole.”

He yanks my jeans down roughly, ignoring the sharp breath I suck in as the denim scrapes my thighs. My shirt follows, then he practically tears my panties off, leaving me naked and exposed within seconds while he’s still fully clothed.

“Look at you,” he growls, shoving both fingers back into me. “Taking my fingers so fucking deep. You need it rough, don’t you? Need me to fuck the thoughts right out of your pretty head.”

“Yes,” I gasp as he pistons his fingers in and out, the wet sounds of my arousal filling the room. “I just don’t know if I can stop think—ah?—”

His hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back until I have no choice but to meet his piercing gaze. “Listen carefully, siren. The only words you get right now are ‘yes,’ ‘please,’ and my name. That’s all your pretty mouth is allowed to say. Understand?”

“Yes,” I gasp as his fingers curl inside me, finding that spot that makes my legs shake.

“Good girl.” His eyes devour me, dark and hungry. “Now let me hear you beg.”

“Please,” I whimper, my walls clenching around his fingers as he increases his pace. But those goddamn thoughts keep intruding—worries about the gang, about Atlas’s recovery, about things I can’t change or fix right now.

“Focus,” he growls, twisting his fingers in a way that makes me cry out. “Your mind belongs to me. Your body belongs to me. Everything else can fucking wait.”

I try to say something else, but he cuts me off with a sharp bite to my neck. “What did I say about words, siren? Try again.”

“Killian,” I moan as his thumb finds my clit, working it in ruthless circles while his fingers drive into me. “Please… please.”

---