Page 95 of Scarlet Mark
“Amir destroyed my life. Set me up to run a criminal organization I never wanted. Had me raped. Abused.Pissedon. And so many other wretched things. I want him dead,Killian. Fuck whatever all this is; I want him to pay for it. In blood.”
His grip on my neck tightened, his opposite hand going to my hip to pull me closer. “There’s my Amara.” His mouth brushed mine. “My warrior.” Another kiss, this one deeper, hotter. I was bleeding, fresh off killing two men, and just found out Amir Assad was my father, and Killian still wanted me. Still adored me. Still cared.
That undid something inside me, some sort of final barrier I’d kept locked up around my heart. And a flood of sensation came over me. All of it for the man who held me in his arms, protecting me, adoring me, respecting me.
He literally saved my life.
Yes, I had escaped my hell, but he taught me that I didn’t need to run. He encouraged me to be free, to fight, to face my nightmares head-on and destroy them. Killian was my everything, the one who completed me, the one who pushed me to fly.
With him, I could do anything.
“I love you,” I whispered, the words falling from me on a cascade of emotion. I grabbed his bare shoulders, needing to hold on, afraid and thrilled and overwhelmed. “I love you, Killian.”
He pressed his forehead to mine, his breath hot against my lips. “I love you, too, Amara.” Softly spoken, but heartfelt and true and so incredibly warm.
He walked me backward until my ass hit the desk, then lifted me on top of it.
“I shouldn’t do this, not after what they did, but I want you, Amara.” He unbuttoned the jacket, letting it fall open to reveal my breasts, his gaze roaming over me as if to assure himself I was okay. “It’s so damn wrong, but…”
“It’s what I need,” I whispered, finishing the sentence for him. “They barely touched me, Killian, but it was enough that I need you to erase the memory.” I finished removing the soiled coat and threw it across the room, the assaulting scents from the dungeon below seeming to disappear with it.
All of Malcom’s attentions had been to my back, leaving my front unmarred. He’d really only just begun when Killian showed up, the men having been waiting for an audience to hear them before truly hurting me. The flogging had been the worst, enough to leave me chilled. And now I craved Killian’s heat.
“Fuck me,” I told him. “Bring me back to you. To us. To who we are meant to be together.” I wanted him to ruin me for anyone else, including those of my past. He may have called it wrong, but I considered it to be right. “Make me yours, Killian.”
“You are mine, kitten,” he whispered, stepping in between my spread thighs. “Just as I’m yours.”
“Show me.” I leaned back on the desk, balancing on my palms, the papers scattered beneath me. But they no longer mattered. There were two dead bodies in the room, a sea of pain, and nightmares painting the walls. And still, I didn’t care.
Killian’s boxers slid down his thighs, revealing his gorgeous cock, perfectly erect and ready for me. I yearned for the darkness that lived within him, the part of him that thrived on violence and enjoyed spilling blood. I needed that man, my dark knight, the one who could erase everything around me and take me to a plane of nonexistence.
“Hard,” I told him. “Rough. I need you to hurt me, Killian.” To help me erase the memory of Malcom and replace this night with memories of Killian alone.
“Only in the best ways,” he promised, thrusting into me and filling me in the most delicious manner. “I’ll erase them all, Amara. Everyone who ever touched you. You’ll never think of them again.”
“Yes,” I moaned, arching into him, accepting him into every part of me. Not just physically, but spiritually. I allowed him to love me, to worship me, to understand me, to complete me.
I balanced against the desk with one hand, my other going to his nape, my nails digging in as he took my mouth with a ferocity I felt to my very soul.Mine.
He set a punishing pace, exactly as I requested, his hips driving into mine with a force that hurt. The wood beneath me creaked, his grip on my waist harsh as he moved me the way he desired, taking and giving what we both needed.
“Killian,” I breathed against his lips, so close to release, my body on fire for him.
“Are you going to come for me, Amara?” He licked the inside of my mouth, one of his hands sliding to my mound to thumb my throbbing clit. “Are you going to milk me with that sweet, tight pussy, kitten?” He pinched my nub, sending a spike of pain and pleasure through me, leaving me quivering against him. “Say my name again.”
“Killian,” I moaned, convulsing. “My Killian.”
“And who am I?” he pressed, his mouth hot against mine.
“My knight.” I bowed off the desk, only to be slammed back down by his hips, the move agonizingly perfect. “My Sir Bedivere.”
“And you’re my warrior,” he whispered. “My beautiful, fierce Amara.”
I came apart at his words, all the torment from before releasing on a wave of relief that only Killian could evoke. It hurt. It soothed. It tore me apart. It put me back together. And feeling him erupt inside me only intensified the moment, making it all the more perfect and right, with a heavy dose of scandalousness that sent me crashing into euphoric bliss.
Everything left me on a contented sigh. All the torture. Malcom’s harsh treatment. Today’s murders. Amir’s games. The documents. None of it mattered. Only Killian and his heavy groans against my neck, the feel of his hands roaming over me, of his seed spilling inside me.
Utopia.
