Page 41 of Falling for a Killer

“Killian.”

It sounds like a plea, like a prayer.

One I need to hear more of, so I sit up a little more and reach down to pinch her clit. “Say it again.”

Her eyes flutter, but don’t quite open.“Killian.”

God, that might be my favorite sound. It’s one thing that’s solely for me and me alone, holding all the promises we’re too scared to freely give, and I don’t know how I went so long without it.

“Make me feel like a fucking fiend, woman. Fuck!”

I lose all sense of everything that isn’t her in this moment, dropping down again so I can leave claiming marks on her throat as I wreck her pussy like it’s the last time I’ll ever have her.

She breaks just enough that her fingernails dig into my back and her legs wrap around my ass. She’s definitely not asleep anymore, or even faking it, but it’s still only my name dripping from her lips.

The way her body molds into mine is indescribable. Better than anything I’ve ever felt before, and when she comes from this alone, I feel my resolve snap further.

I’m fucking her so hard now the bed slams into the wall, creaking under us like the frame itself is about to give out. Good. Let it. Let her scream while it happens.

Gripping the headboard with one hand, I lose myself to the chase, to the fact that this gorgeous woman is mine whenever and however I want her. The power she gives me spurs me on until I hear it — the first splinters of wood cracking.

I don’t stop. Just like our sanity, it can fall apart and stay that way, because if this is how it feels to lose yourself in someone else, I never want to be found. “Never want to fucking stop.”

I nearly slip out of her when it finally cracks and we tumble to the ground, but her grip on me is strong. The way she screams my name in exhilaration has my cock pulsing and desperate for release, and when she clamps down on me I’m a goner. The growl I release as I come is borderline animalistic, as is the desperation to ensure every single drop of my cum stays inside her beautiful body.

“Oh my god,” she whispers finally, after our breathing settles and reality sets in again. “You broke the bed.”

“I think that was a collective effort,” I respond with a sated smile.

It’s past two AM and now we have to figure out where we’re going to sleep for the rest of the night, but surprisingly she doesn’t seem annoyed with me.

I guess that means I did my job well.

But as we settle into my bed and she curls against my chest, she throws me a curveball. “Do you think you’ll get sick of this?”

“I mean eventually we’ll run out of beds to break,” I joke, regretting it instantly, because for the first time she’s allowing me to get a glimpse inside of her mind while she’s feeling raw, and it isn’t a time for me to cheapen it. “No,” I try again. “I don’t think I will. You?”

“I don’t know,” she says honestly. “It’s good. Great, really. But we keep one-upping ourselves with the sex. We went from fighting it and teasing each other to fucking like rabbits, then escalated to you using me like a doll. Even that... it started with you just taking me on the couch or while I was cooking, now when I’m asleep. It seems to keep getting better and... kinkier, but what happens when you can’t top yourself again? When the novelty wears off and it’s not exciting anymore?”

Shit.

I’ve been so focused on how good everything feels and how nothing has ever compared that I didn’t even think about the fact that she might get bored after a while. What happens when she’s over it... over me?

We’re already to the point where I trust her implicitly with my secrets, but that doesn’t mean she will want to stay here forever. We’re hiding from reality, frozen in time, and one day she will want to move forward again. I have no one, and she has her whole family to return to. It’s impossible to keep her distracted with good sex forever. “I... don’t know.” I know it isn’t enough, but what else is there to say? “Will you do me a favor? If that day comes, will you tell me?”

“Huh?” She sits up a little, long hair falling over her shoulder. “Of course I will, but I’m not the one I’m worried about.”

I bite back the argument that I responded with the fact that I don’t think I’ll get sick of this and she’s the one that said she doesn’t know, and take a deep breath. She isn’t trying to argue with me like her fears are the only ones that matter, so I can’t take it that way. She’s just expressing her thoughts, and she has every right to. “Then I promise to tell you too. But like I said, I don’t see that happening. Even when we do have what others would consider vanilla sex, I’m far from bored, Roo. I just lose control sometimes. I can’t get enough of you.”

She nods, glancing down at my lips. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Did it ever feel like this for you? With... other... people?”

The question alone has jealousy licking its way along my skin to the point that I’m clinging to her tighter, but I have to know. I just wish there was a way to ask without my damn brain picturing another man’s hands on her.

“Do you think I’ve ever asked another man if he thought he’d get bored of me?”

I don’t, but is that because she didn’t fear it or because she didn’t care? “No.”

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