Page 35 of Wicked Games

“Fuck you.”

“And here I was going to be nice.” He shakes his head disapprovingly. “Where do you want it?”

“Want what?”

“My load.” His face tightens with pleasure as he lets out a low grunt. “I’m gonna come on you no matter what, so either pick where, or I will.”

I drop my eyes to his dick, my head finally clear enough that I can take a good look at it. He’s long and thick, with a broad head and a patch of neatly trimmed hair at the base.

Something deep inside me pulses with awareness, and my mouth waters as the most insane desire hits me.

I want to taste him. But more than that, I want to choke on him. Feel him slide along my tongue and stretch my lips as he presses down my throat until I can’t breathe.

What the fuck?

“Like what you see?” he scrapes out, his voice heavy with pleasure and his face tight with it.

I lift my eyes and glare at him.

He takes a half step closer. “Open your mouth.”

I roll my lips inward and bite down on them, making a show out of disobeying.

He takes another half step, closing the gap between us so he’s right in front of me. He’s so close I can feel the brush of his hand against my cheek with every furious drag of his fist.

“Either open your mouth, or I’m coming on your face.” He tugs violently on his balls with his free hand, his face twisted up in pleasure.

I glare up at him.

He huffs out a strained laugh and licks his bottom lip. “Of course you’d be a pillow princess just like everyone else I’ve hooked up with.”

The term raises my hackles a bit, but I inherently know that he doesn’t mean it as a homophobic dig. Killian might be an asshole with very loose morals and a penchant for violence, but he’s not a bigot. He’s just using the term because it’s part of his vernacular, not because he’s calling me a woman.

“Come on, princess,” he taunts, stopping his strokes long enough to rub the tip of his dick against my cheek.

The slide of his wet skin over mine sends a little shiver of awareness through me, and my stomach clenches again when I feel the damp trail he left behind.

“Come on, Fefe.” He spreads his legs wide, his stance powerful and every bit as cocky as he is as he looms over me. “Open that pretty mouth for me.”

He slaps his dick against my lips hard enough to sting, and I bite back a groan as he does it again. “Or I can make you.” He scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip and starts stroking again, moving slower than before. “What do you say, little brother? You gonna be a good boy, or are you going to learn that bad boys get punished?”

My entire body clenches, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek so the pain stops me from softening my expression and giving away how much his words are affecting me.

Why the fuck is this turning me on? Why is the thought of him grabbing my head and shoving his dick down my throat to skull fuck me so damn hot?

A slow, predatory smile spreads over Killian’s lips, and the next thing I know, he grabs my hair and yanks my head back.

“Open,” he rasps and holds his cock by the base, angling it toward my mouth.

I glare up at him defiantly.

“Don’t make me ask you twice.” His tone is all threat.

Slowly, I part my lips.

“Stick your tongue out. Now,” he adds when I don’t immediately obey.

He twists his hand in my hair. Pain explodes on my scalp, and my mouth falls open as I let out a surprised cry.

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