If her request surprised her guard, he didn’t show it. He simply gestured for her to follow him and led her down to another closed door.
She didn’t bother to knock, which was probably a bad idea, all things considered. For all she knew, Killian slept with a gun beneath his pillow and surprising him in the middle of the night would end badly for both of them. And yet, the danger of it sent her heart racing, her blood pumping wildly through her veins as she let the moonlight guide her to the giant bed in the middle of the room.
“What are you doing, princess?”
Lifting up the comforter, she slid into bed with him. “How do you know it’s me? You haven’t even opened your eyes.”
“Footsteps,” he murmured sleepily, reaching for her, his arm wrapping around her waist as he pulled her close to nuzzle at her neck in a move so shockingly sweet, she could hardly breathe. “Sean is heavy-footed, which I need to remember to train out of him. Brody you can hardly hear unless you’re listening closely because he’s a fucking ghost. Reagan and you have a similar cadence to your steps, but her stride is longer.”
“You recognize everyone’s footsteps?”
“Yes.”
Simple, and heartbreaking for it. Because he thought nothing of memorizing the sound of footsteps outside his door in case someone came for him, came for his family again.
His lips pressed against her throat, stirring the need that had gone dormant since their moment in his office, and she let her head fall back against the pillows as he slowly, leisurely kissed his way down her body.
“You haven’t answered my question, princess.”
“I don’t remember the question.”
“What are you doing here?”
She couldn’t tell him the truth. That she’d been looking up what happened to his family and she’d needed to see him, to touch him, to know he was still with her.
So she settled for half the truth.
“I never did get that orgasm after dinner.”
His laughter vibrated against her skin as he pressed a kiss to her stomach. “You never did tell me what I wanted to hear.”
Everything inside her quaked. “I forgot,” she lied, breathless.
“Allow me to remind you.”
With that same aching slowness, he tugged her shorts from her, baring her to his gaze. Dipping his head, he inhaled deeply, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Fucking hell, you smell delicious, princess. I wonder if you taste as good as I remember.”
Pleasure shot through her at the touch of his tongue to her swollen clit. Arching beneath him, her fingers tangled in his hair as she cried out for him in the dark.
“God, yes. Just like that. A little harder.”
To her utter delight, he did as she demanded, pressing his tongue more firmly against her clit as he slid two fingers deep into her dripping pussy. And when those fingers curled, hitting the exact right spot inside her, she nearly wept at the tidal wave of sensation that crashed over her.
And then the asshole stopped.
“Tell me you understand that you are mine, Aria. That your body, your pleasure belongs to me and only me. Tell me that, and I’ll give you all the pleasure you can handle and then some.”
Was it really asking so much? After all, it wasn’t like there was anyone else in this prison with her she wanted to be with.
That’s not the real reason.
No, it wasn’t. Somewhere, deep in those dark parts of her she’d been taught were wrong and weak, she wanted this. Wanted to be taken over, to be owned by him in every possible way.
But giving him this small victory wasn’t giving him total control. Not really. She could give him this and still keep her soul.
Liar.
Again his tongue pressed against her clit, too light, too teasing to give her the release she craved. “Just while I’m here. Once it’s safe for me to go back home, we’re done.”
