My dick leaked precum, painting her in it as I climbed her body, I took one nipple into my mouth, then the other. She arched off the bed. While she was distracted, I sank into her —inch by agonizing inch. The moment felt like a baptism in reverse, like I was seeking grace in the depths of her.
I watched her face transform. Her eyelids fluttered, a soft "O" forming on her lips. I could smell the faint scent of blood as her body gave way. She shoved at my chest, overwhelmed.
I gripped her hips, anchoring her to the bed as her hands went to my back. “Shh. I’ve got you,” I whispered against her ear, my voice thick with emotion and desire. “Look at you, little ghost. You look fucking beautiful on the brink.”
I began to move in slow, deep rolls of my hips, rocking into her. My lips brushed along her neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to her flushed skin.
“You’re doing so beautifully, baby. Taking all of me like this… God, I love being inside you.” My hands slid up her waist, caressing rather than gripping, thumbs tracing the delicate curve of her ribs. “I don’t think I can ever let you go now. Not after feeling how perfectly you wrap around me… so wet, so soft.”
She moaned my name, her body trembling as pleasure slowly overtook the initial discomfort. Her inner walls fluttered and clenched around my dick as her first orgasm began to build. I kept the pace steady, grinding against her with every thrust, kissing away the tears at the corners of her eyes.
When she finally came, it was breathtaking—her back arched, her thighs tightening around my waist as she cried out softly, her pussy squeezing me in waves. The feeling of her falling apart so sweetly beneath me sent me over the edge right after her. With a low groan, I pressed deep and held myself there, spilling inside her.
I eased back finally, watching her face. Being with her felt… good. Too good.
How the hell was I supposed to let her go now?
Chapter 31: Killian
I woke with Chloe curled against my side. Her bare skin was warm and soft, one heavy breast pressed to my ribs, her leg thrown over mine. The faint scent of lavender and sex lingered on the sheets—a fragrance that was quickly becoming the only air I wanted to breathe. For a second, I allowed myself the delusion that she was mine.
She felt like mine.
My body remembered every second of last night—how perfectly she’d taken me, how she’d come apart so sweetly beneath me. But the memory was tainted by reality. She wasn’t mine. I was a stop on her way to a life that didn't include me.
She stirred, breaking the moment and blinking up at me with dark, sleepy eyes. For a moment she just looked at me, hair tangled, lips still slightly swollen. I wanted to beg her to stay. I didn’t have the right to. I stayed silent, my jaw locked tight against the words that would only make me look selfish.
She suddenly shifted, sliding down my body until her face hovered over my morning-hard dick.
“What are you doing?” I stuttered.
“Killian?” Her voice was soft, hesitant. “Can I… do it? With my mouth? I want to learn how to make you feel good like that.”
My heart raced with lust and thudded with the fear that this was another "thank you" I didn't want to accept. My jaw tightened. I looked down at her kneeling between my spread thighs, naked and unashamed. She looked so innocent, yet she was the one holding the knife to my heart.
“You don’t have to” was on the tip of my tongue, but that wasn’t what came out.
“I—yeah,” I said. “If you want to.”
She looked up at me, eyes wide and eager. “Teach me,” she whispered. “I want to do it right for you.”
Something low and possessive tightened in my chest. If I couldn’t have her forever, then I’d have this. The moment. The imprint of it. I thought about what she’d said that day—about rememory. How places held things. How moments didn’t disappear; they just waited. I wanted to be the memory that waited for her. I wanted her body to hold this lesson so deeply that no matter where she went—what cities she touched, what air she breathed, what other man she met—she would feel me. Taste me.
I sat up against the headboard, reaching down to cup her jaw. My thumb traced the bruise on her cheek—a reminder of the war we were in. “Alright, little ghost,” I said, my voice dropping into a rough, low growl. “Open your mouth for me.”
She parted her lips obediently. I guided the head of my dick to her tongue, sliding in slowly. I wanted her to feel the weight of me, the reality of what she was trying to walk away from.
“Good girl,” I whispered, watching her eyes flutter. “Just like that. Lips around me—tight, but no teeth. Use your tongue on the underside.”
I rocked my hips forward, feeding her another inch. When she gagged softly, I didn’t pull back. I fisted my hand inher messy hair, holding her steady. I wasn't being cruel; I was anchoring her to me.
“Relax your throat. Breathe through your nose. You’re doing so fucking good already.”
She took more, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked. I started moving faster, rougher, the melancholy in my chest turning into a desperate, silent rage. Each time I hit the back of her throat and heard those wet, choking little sounds, I felt a sick sense of triumph.You’ll remember this,I thought.
Spit began to drip from the corners of her mouth, running down her chin and onto her heavy breasts. She was a mess for me. My mess.
“Fuck, yes—look at you taking me so deep,” I praised, my voice sounding like it was being dragged over gravel. “Such a good girl for me. Suck harder, baby.”
