Page 19 of Falling for a Killer

Panting, I pull back. “Satisfied? Can we go in now?”

“Not even close,” he breathes. “Goddamnit, I’m so hard. Gonna need a minute before we can go in there... and you’re gonna need to get off my lap for that minute to even begin. You drive me crazy.”

His mouth crashes into mine again, and I know what I need to do. For me, for him, for the sake of this goddamn shopping trip. “Take your cock out,” I whisper, maneuvering back to my own side and leaning over the console.

Pausing, surprise flashes in his eyes a brief second before he’s scrambling to pull himself out of his jeans. “You sure?”

“You ask too many stupid questions,” I mutter, sucking him in the moment he’s free. My hair falls around me in waves, blocking his face from view and sheltering me enough that I don’t try to act like I’m not enjoying it.

“Oh fuck,” he gasps, his hand resting on my head as his fingers flex like he’s holding back from fucking the hell out of my throat. “Suck me so damn good.”

Knowing you’re making a mistake and continuing to make it anyway is so funny. But the way his cock feels slipping into my throat, the veins against my tongue, the heady weight of it... I don’t care. I’m dying to know what it feels like to swallow that much cum. To prove to him I can, that his hyperspermia isn’t the reason I tried to call this off. It’s one of the main arguments to keep going.

Killian thrusts up into my mouth with a groan, his fist tightening in my hair as he loses the battle to hold back, and before I know it he’s fully fucking my throat in the Walmart parking lot. “Don’t stop.”

I couldn’t if I wanted to. He’s got me pinned here, making me take it, and it’s got me so wet I squirm.

Fuck, I don’t know how I’m gonna go back to telling him no.

“Take that dick, girl. Take it until your throat remembers the shape of my fucking cock.”

God, he’s going to ruin me. His thrusts get harder as I choke, sending the tears pooling in my eyes streaming down my cheeks. My pussy is so wet I could put out a fucking fire with it, but it’s taking everything I’ve got to hold on and stay steady for him.

“I’m gonna come, Joey,” he rushes out. “I’m gonna co— fuuuck!”

The second his rock-hard cock begins pulsing on my tongue, I forget to breathe. I can’t. There’s so much cum it fills up mymouth, spills down my throat, slips out back down his shaft. I won’t disappoint him. Not here, not now. I swallow as much as I can and clean the rest off his cock with my tongue, swallowing that too. When I’m done, there isn’t a drop left.

And I’m a mess.

I don’t want to know what I look like as I sit up — hair disheveled, makeup running, cheeks stained with tears. Blowing him is not a job for the faint hearted, and I still have to go shopping.

Holy shit.

“That was — fucking everything.” Killian reaches out and wipes the tears off my cheeks, and then fixes my hair, caring for me in a way I didn’t expect. “No one’s ever swallowed for me before.”

I can’t imagine why. Chuckling, I wipe my mouth and try to stop my hands from shaking. “What else was I supposed to do with it? Let’s go.”

After another breath, he tucks himself away and stares down at the bulge that’s still there. “Will you let me return the favor when we get home? I know you’re wet for me.”

If I say no, then he might shut down and all of that was for nothing. If I say yes, I’d better be prepared to follow through — and I’m not. Nothing changed. He has to know nothing has changed. “Nothing kills a wet pussy like Walmart. Sorry, Killer. I’ll be dryer than the Sahara when we get back.”

Without waiting, I slide out of the Jeep and start walking toward the entrance, realizing just how right he was with every step. I can feel it.

I hear the door shut a few seconds before his huge hand is slotting with mine, fingers tangling like they belong there, and the feeling goes straight to my chest.

I need to focus. Who knows how long it will be before we get out again? I can’t forget anything. Yet with every step, hepulls me a little closer until I’m right up against him. Is he just nervous, or is he really this possessive? “One of us will have to push the cart,” I remind him. Gently, but firmly.

“I’ll do it,” he replies quickly, tugging one out with his free hand, and it only takes him a few steps to realize just how hard it is to push a cart with one hand. “Come here.”

He tugs me in and steps up behind me, caging me in as we begin walking into the store, and when I feel his nose brush against my neck like he’s inhaling my scent I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

This is suspicious. No one walks around a store like this, doesn’t he know that? Didn’t he ever have to go buy new underwear before he started offing people?

Again, I can’t pinpoint if it’s nerves or possession, and I’m no longer sure the distinction matters. It’s as weird as it is endearing.

“People are staring,” I whisper. “This isn’t normal.”

He seems to realize the attention he’s getting and finally backs off, giving me a moment to breathe. “Okay. Fuck, okay.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets like it’s difficult to act normal, and I almost feel bad for him.

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