Page 23 of Falling for a Killer

Eleven:

Fantasy

My fingers rest on the doorknob for a second too long. I don’t want to close the door, not this time — and what does it say about me that I want my captor to watch me shower? That I want to see the hunger in his eyes, the bulge in his sweats?

I don’t care what it says about me, frankly.

Humans are desperate for attention, all of us. I’m no different. Not even now.

So with the door wide, I start the shower to let the water warm and strip slowly, knowing he can already see me from the living room.

When the tv clicks off, I know I’ve got him. He stays silent where he is, but his gaze is loud, screaming for me to turn around so he can lure me in.

I don’t. Not yet, anyway.

I strip slowly instead, letting him see my curves, my edges. Every piece of clothing that finds its way to the floor makes my heart beat faster, my pussy a little wetter. Is he still watching? Coming closer?

I swiftly glance over my shoulder to find him standing now, his hands clenched at his sides, but I avoid his face for the time being.

Turning back, I feel every step he takes toward me, feel the restraint he has getting closer to snapping.

My heart’s beating so fast I feel like it’s flying.

Without waiting, I step into the shower and let the water raise goosebumps on my skin. With the door halfway open, there’s nothing to trap the heat in here with me, making meshiver as the water coats my hair and runs down my spine, splashing off my ass onto the shower floor.

I don’t know where he is, but I know he’s close. Every nerve in my body knows it as I slide my fingertips down my stomach and tease my clit.

This wasn’t the plan, not originally. But now?

I want to see how far I can push him.

We never splurged for a detachable shower head and all my vibrators are in my room, meaning all I’ve got to work with are my fingers and the fantasy of the fugitive holding me captive.

He could take me whenever he wants. He’s so much bigger, so much stronger than me that I’d never be able to stop him. He could fuck my pretty little ass the same way he’s fucked my cunt, my throat. Claim the last part of me without me having a say in it at all.

I can almost feel his hand around my throat as he does it, see the fire in those icy blue eyes. He’d tell me I’m his, I’m sure. That he owns me. He stole me, so I’m his, whispering it over and over again as he tears my ass apart.

My fingers are moving so fast it’s making my leg twitch, nearly sending me off balance on the slippery floor. But I don’t stop. My breath catches and halts entirely until I force it out in a broken moan.

The door slides the rest of the way a split second before I’m being pinned to the wall, Killian fully clothed and looking like a mad man. “Keep going. Don’t stop until you come.”

Shock makes that difficult for a moment, but as I watch the water run down his gorgeous face and soak his clothes, I can’t deny him.

My bottom lip slips between my teeth as I pinch my clit and keep going, not looking away from him. I’m acutely aware of how close he is, how every heavy breath causes my nipples to brush against his chest. So, so close.

“Who are you thinking about, Roo?”

His pupils are so blown I can hardly see the blue at all, and I know he won’t accept a lie. He never would.

“You,” I whisper, almost gasp. “I was thinking about what it would feel like if you stopped taking no for an answer. If you claimed my ass the same way you’ve claimed every other part of me.”

“Fuck,” he growls, one hand moving over to grip my throat as he leans his face in closer. So close we’re sharing air. “You’d like that, hmm? The thought alone has you dripping, huh? Say it.”

“I—” I’m too close, please don’t ruin this — “I’m gonna come. T-Tighter.”

How quickly he gives me what I need has my eyes rolling as pleasure ripples throughout my body.

“Come for me.” His hand tightens perfectly on the sides of my throat. “And say my name while you do it.”

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