Instead, I say, “If I die tomorrow, find Saela for me. Get her to safety.”
Killian’s grip on me tightens like his touch alone can keep me safe, but he says, “I swear it, Meryn.”
Gratitude and desperation and fear and love swirl together and drag me under. He pulls me to him right as I lean in.
It’s a rough, almost painful kiss, both of us grabbing at each in desperation. I nip his lip and he bites right back and I moan, pushing myself closer to him, grabbing at his clothes.
I need this, need him.
He lowers his head and starts kissing my neck, slowing us down. He weaves his fingers into my short hair and pulls my head back, making room for worship. My breath shudders. I grip his shoulders tightly as pleasure drips from his lips and down to my depths.
The sudden change in pace calms me. I sink into it, forgetting the desperation and turning toward something more. Something that’ll last.
Something that defies the dawn.
Killian leans back in his chair. His hair is mussed. His lips are swollen. His hands close around my ass as his glassy eyes move over me.
“Strip,” he orders.
I swallow, and my throat clicks. My tongue darts over my lips, which still throb from the rough attention.
He sees it and his gaze ignites. “Now, kitten.”
I scramble from his lap. Killian leans forward and slowly rolls his shirt up to his elbows as he watches me drag my jacket from my shoulders. While I unbutton my shirt, he rests his elbows on his knees, his forearms flexing as he clenches his hands into fists.
My gaze darts quickly lower. He’s already clearly hard beneath his clothes. I wonder if he’s barely holding himself back. When I’m bare from the waist up, I don’t have to wonder any longer.
Killian lets out another rumbling sound and grinds his hand over himself through his pants. The sight of it pools between my legs. When I guide my underthings from my hips, they’re already embarrassingly wet.
Killian reaches out and sweeps his hand across his desk, crumpling papers and scattering objects. A few clatter to the ground or thud against the rug.
“Sit,” he orders.
Stepping out of the pile of my clothes, I glide towards him. Slowly. Daintily. I love this feeling. When he looks at me like this, I’m delicate. I get to be delicate. To be breakable without risking a fracture.
The desk is cool against my skin when I ease myself up. It’s going to be a mess when I’m done with it.
I wait patiently, but Killian doesn’t move. He sits in his chair like it’s a throne, eyes moving over me. Torture, really, when there’s already a deep throb between my legs in anticipation.
I bite my lip and spread my legs further. His eyes snap down. When my fingers dust over my need, he lets out a muffled groan and wipes his hand over his mouth.
“Touch yourself,” he growls, nodding.
And I do. And it’s profoundly unsatisfying. I like the feeling of his eyes on me. I like that he looks like he’s about to snap into pieces. Ihatethat he isn’t taking me.
I want to forget what tomorrow brings. I want him to overwhelm me. Help me forget.
Still, I start to tremble soon enough. Sweat prickles at my forehead. Killian rakes his fingers through his hair, breathing heavily through his nose.
The beginnings of a gentle orgasm trickles through me. My thighs tingle and clench slightly, and I let out a low moan. That’s what finally does him in.
Killian snaps forward, suddenly on his feet, hands gripping my thighs and spreading them to aching. The moan I let out is even louder this time. His clothed hips grind against me, replacing the stroke of my fingers, and my back arches.
Killian tilts me forcefully until I thud back against his desk. I look up at him, lingering on the edge as he looms over me. Then his hand cups me, a couple fingers slipping into my wetness. I cry out and try to pull him closer with my legs.
“Close your eyes, kitten,” he says.
I whimper and shake my head. The sight of his eyes glazed over by lust is too precious to surrender. But he removes his hand to punish me.
