“God,” My head thumps back, no longer able to stay up as my climax ricochets through me, my pussy spasming around my fingers as I pulse, the orgasm tightening every single muscle in my body.
Slowly, I bring myself down, gently easing my fingers out of my pussy and then my underwear and look up to find Killian closer than he was before.
His eyes narrow before they flick to the hand stillglistening with my arousal.
His fingers wrap around my wrist and then he brings my hand toward his lips, his mouth wrapping around the fingers that were inside of me. My breath stalls and a whole new wave of desire has me panting, desperate for more. He sucks my fingers clean before he leans in, his lips brushing across my cheek, toward the shell of my ear.
“Don’t play games you’re not ready to win, Tiny Dancer,” He whispers before he shoves away from me and storms from the room, leaving me wet and breathless on the couch.
That’s how it remains for the rest of my time here, as the rain comes to a stop and the skies begin to clear, I sit in silence on the couch, not hearing or seeing Killian once in the five hours it takes for the storm to stop.
And when I go in search of him, to let him know I am leaving, I find my clothes folded and in a pile outside of his locked bedroom door. I can catch the hint.
My cheeks burn as I gather up my clothes and get changed in the bathroom, leaving his t-shirt folded on the bathroom counter and then I gather my things, and grab my keys.
The air is cool when I step outside, but it doesn’t do anything against the heat in my face or rushing through my body and even when I’m in the safety of my car and on the road, sorrow and humiliation sting my eyes.
Killian Archer is a wound that just won’t seem toheal. I shouldn’t want him the way I do, and everything between us right now is a toxic, festering mess but still, I go back, desperately seeking solace in the pit I have dug.
Chapter Thirteen
Ihuff out a breath as I haul the box from the van and into the house, a sweat on my brow as my sneakers rub at the backs of my ankles and my fingers literally bleed from all the scrapes and cuts that have been inflicted over the past several hours.
“Fuck me, Savannah,” Sloane groans behind me, “How much stuff do you have!?”
Surprisingly, a lot. I had a lot of shit in storage, things I’ve collected over the years that never had a home plus the many items I’ve purchased over the last six months. I like to collect things; I just hadn’t realized it had amounted to so much.
And it’s a lot for two women to doalone.
I lied to my brother so he wouldn’t intervene, told him I wasn’t moving yet because if I told him, he would have got the guys to help. And that would have meant seeing Killian.
And I don’t want to see Killian.
It took me an entire day to realize what I had done and for two days after that I sat in this pit of humiliation that made me physically cringe whenever the images flashed inside my head. And let me tell you, I pictured it often and viscerally. I was almost certain anyone who saw me would immediately know what had happened and sure, now I know I was in my head and overreacting, those two days were tough.
Am I shy? No. Do I like sex? Abso-fucking-lutely I do, but pleasuring myself for another person, while they watched and did nothing isn’t something I have done before. Until now, of course, and I don’t know why I did it or why I was so comfortable doing it for Killian.
Anyone else and it would have been a hard no.
He hasn’t contacted me, and I haven’t contacted him, but I don’t know how to face him now it’s all done and dusted.
He made it pretty clear it was a game, payback for what I had done at the club, even if that really wasn’t my fault and it took me too long to understand what he meant about games.
Don’t play games you’re not ready to win.
He’s fucking with me.
For what!?
Because he’s attracted to me? That seems like a him problem.
“Uh, Sav?” Sloane nudges my shoulder, “You’re gonna put a hole in that box.”
“Shit,” I hiss, taking the last few steps to the counter to place it down. He’s fucking with my head that even mundane tasks like carrying a damn box is being compromised.
Asshole.
“You good?” She asks, “Is it that guy again? What’s his name… Killian?”
