Page 38 of The Final Contract
The words shouldn’t make me shiver, but they do. My pulse stutters in my throat. “Will you… stay in here with me?”
For a moment I think he won’t answer, but then he nods once. A sharp, clipped gesture. Maybe because he doesn’t trust his voice either.
I climb into the bed, sheets cool against my bare skin. He doesn’t follow. Instead, he takes the chair in the corner—dark leather, the one that creaks softly under his weight. He sits wide-legged, forearms resting on the arms of the chair, eyes locked on me like a predator who doesn’t chase because he knows his prey isn’t going anywhere.
My breath catches when I see what he’s wearing. Not the suit. Not the crisp white shirt and tie. Just gray sweats, slung low on his hips, and nothing else. Bare chest, shoulders broad and cut, every muscle flexing with the tension he carries like armor. A dark tattoo covers one pec.
He’s beautiful in a way that makes my mouth dry, dangerous in a way that makes me ache.
I lie on my side, hand under my cheek, top leg bent, trying to breathe evenly. My heart pounds anyway, traitorous and loud. My body hums with memory—how close he was earlier, how his heat pressed against me, how I wanted him even with the lies whispered from his lips.
My gaze drifts down, and I see his cock straining against the fabric. Thick. Hard. The outline obscene in the dim light. My lips part. My thighs press together instinctively.
I can’t help myself. I slide my hand down, between my legs. My finger brushes my clit through the damp cotton of my panties, and my eyes flutter shut. A spark. A tease. My hips twitch.
“What are you doing, Seraphina?”
My eyes snap open. His voice is rough, deeper than usual, threaded with something dangerous. He hasn’t moved. He’s just watching me—watching me like the devil watches his favorite sinner set herself on fire.
Heat licks up my neck, but I don’t stop. I slip my hand beneath the elastic, find the slick heat between my lips. My finger slides through it, slow, then circles my clit. A broken whimper escapes, high and needy.
“Christ,” Killian curses, his jaw tight. He knows. He knows exactly what I’m doing.
“I’m not crossing a line,” I whisper, breathless. “You’re not touching me. I am.”
His nostrils flare. His hand drops to his lap. He rubs up his shaft through the sweats, slow and deliberate. My pussy clenches so hard it aches.
“Show me.” His command cracks the air like a whip.
I roll onto my back, shove the covers down, spreading my legs to his gaze. “You want to see my wet pussy in your bed?” Agrumble escapes him at my teasing. “Knowing you can’t touch me.” I spread my legs wider, arching into my touch, wishing it were him.
“Careful, little killer.” The warning only makes me wetter.
My panties cling to me, wet and transparent in the dim light. My fingers tug the elastic aside, and I touch myself—open, glistening, swollen.
He growls low in his chest, the sound vibrating through me. “Good girl. Don’t hide from me.”
I rub tight circles over my clit, hips rocking into my hand. My eyes lock on him, hungry for his reaction.
“Not when you’re playing with your tight little cunt in my bed.” His patience snaps. He frees his cock, fist wrapping around the thick length. “Making my sheets smell like your sweet pussy.”
My breath catches at the sight of him—veins bulging, the head swollen and pierced with silver that glints in the light. The barbell runs clean through the crown, obscene and gorgeous. My mouth waters. My cunt clenches. I want it inside me so badly it almost hurts.
“You’re staring.” His grin is devilish, teeth sharp in the shadows. He strokes himself slow, the metal flashing with every pass of his fist.
“Well,” my voice is full of breath, “you’ve given me a lot to stare at.”
He chuckles, deep.
“You want it, don’t you? Want this cock splitting you open, that ring dragging over your clit until you come so hard you forget your own name?”
“Fuck. Yes.” The word rips out of me on a moan. I circle faster, wetter, the obscene squelch filling the quiet room. “Oh, Killian…”
“Keep going,” he orders, pumping his cock, fist twisting at the head. Precum leaks over his hand, catching the light. “I want to watch you fall apart for me.”
“I wouldn’t stop… even if you asked me to.” My thighs tremble, knees open. My clit throbs against my fingers, every nerve raw. My breath stutters as the orgasm claws up fast, relentless.
“That’s it, angel,” he rasps, stroking harder. “Rub that pretty little clit. Come for me. Show me how sweet your pussy gets when she’s desperate for cock.”
